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My great success of the day: I finally – finally – tracked down a song that was featured in a Target holiday commercial about nine years ago:

Come on-a my house my house,
I'm gonna give you candy
Come on-a my house, my house,
I'm gonna give a you
Apple a plum and apricot-a too eh

Nine years. That's how long I've wanted to find that song. And the name of it is . . . *drumroll please* . . . Come On-a My House, made famous by the late, great Rosemary Clooney.

Okay, sure, the title looks obvious right after you see the lyrics written down, but I couldn’t actually figure out what the hell the singer on the commercial was saying, other than apple a plum and apricot-a for the longest time.

I don’t even want to tell you how much time I just wasted on that little project tonight. Oh, well. It should make Jennifer Belle happy that I didn’t spend my evening as I’d planned, which – according to her, at least – was to continue my work undermining the women’s movement by writing books that feature legs on the cover art.

So tell me this: if chick lit writers are truly so evil, why don’t we have funky costumes and silly-but-slightly-insidious nicknames? The bad guys in the comic strips always have costumes and nicknames. Instead of being the Goblin or the Riddler, we could pick names like the Chicklitter, and then leave behind trails of sparkling pink heart confetti at our crime scenes. Frankly, I think we’re getting gypped.

Posted 26 May 2007 at 11:08 PM