Beyonce rejected my version of the song. The music video was too dry.
Breaking from the scavenger hunt for the day, I’ve taken to celebrating independence with a load of hopelessly romantic classics. Those being Vivien Leigh and Clark Gable’s Gone with the Wind, Lucille Ball and Bob Hope’s Facts of Life, and Adam Levine and Maroon 5’s “Never Gonna Leave This Bed” music video on repeat.
Any guesses as to which one moves me the most? Let’s just say the fifteen-year-old in me appreciates Mr. Levine’s
And the sixty-year-old that also resides in me quite enjoyed the old movies.
First, Gone with the Wind is long. And, if it wasn’t obvious, every time the wind blows, someone dies (speaking of which, who’s seen that awful Mark Walberg movie The Haunting? I did- in theaters!).
Scarlett O’Hara is an idiot. You can tell from the start that Rhett Butler is far hotter, smarter and makes better conversation and eye contact than Ashley Wilkes. The Scarlett-Janae venn diagram only has “Not afraid to eat in front of men” in the middle so far. I did love every minute of the movie. From the comfort of my couch in pajamas, with the dog, eating chocolate fudge brownie frozen yogurt watching Scarlett get knotted into too-small dresses made me feel all kinds of 21st century-feministy.
Lucille Ball and Bob Hope. Even while having an affair, they make it look classy. It made me wonder how many people in 2011, outside of the 9th grade and away from the trap that is seven minutes of “Stairway to Heaven”, fall in love dancing and chatting. Is it still an issue I have no sense of rhythm? I also wonder if everything would look prettier in black and white. I’d like to film a date, then replay it colorless. Does my hair look better? Does he look like he’s being more romantic? How are my pores?
But fine, this is real life.
And real life is great to watch on the 4th of July.
Like the cute little kids playing in the pond. And the dirty looks I got by people walking by who thought I was the mother of multiple 5-year-olds.
Like the not so cute little boy who chucked a boulder at a group of ducks. That kid was strong.
Like the old women strolling in giant dresses and umbrellas, all 1700s-decked-out, a cell phone ringing and one of them going “Is that you Shirley?”
Like the old man who paused in front of my bench and, well, it was gross sounding.
Like the grandmothers who got so flustered as a duck went racing by them screeching, another one chasing it and pinning it down to the ground. “IT’S ATTACKING IT! SCHOOO! GET AWAY FROM IT YOU BULLY.” I’m no expert on the subject, but… Ma’am, you are literally cock blocking.
Finally, 4 days ago a man carrying a rug stopped me on the street as I made my way down to the library. “Keep looking happy. I saw you yesterday, you looked happy.” Sweet! I think. Kinda weird. Makes me feel kind of like a big dork.
Today, another man actually grabs my elbow this time. “You’re so happy! I like that smile.”
Which makes me wonder… Smiles can’t be that rare, can they?