Fried Chicken

Help. I'm sagged out on the sofa and being made to watch Queen live at Wembley.

"The old Wembley," Mike adds helpfully. "The one that's since been demolished."

It's not that I don't like Queen or that I just made the limpest, saddest, most Hot-Pockety "fresh" pizza from the grocery store (Fresh & Easy!) and now need to curse the darkness in my mouth.

"What are you looking up? Or are you blogging about me?"

(Nod. And sucking the disappointing pizza sauce off my gums.)

Maybe I can get Mike to start talking about Roger Taylor's jowls again. Maybe I will pretend to misunderstand and be, like, "What? All of the Duran Duran members have aged well!"

(You have to walk the bridge of peace between A Night at the Opera and Seven and the Ragged Tiger to get that joke.)

Mike: "Is that it? A Night at the Opera?" (I'd just asked him what the quintessential Queen album is, and he suggested Opera. I'm not pretending to have any Freddie creddie of my own here.)

(Save coming up with the post title. That must be worth 15 points or so, but it's canceled out whenever I sing my own version of the Flash Gordon theme. Which I only sing when doing something rude. That you don't want me to explain.)

Me: "Probably. I believe you. I know it's not The Name of the Game."

Mike: "I like The Game." (Note subtle correction.)

Me: "Oh. Heh. I was thinking of ABBA. Heh."

Then I stared into space for spaces of minutes to contemplate an ABBA / Duran Duran / Queen superband. Whoa. Picture a "Hungry Like the Wolf" chorus with "Killer Queen" verses and edges of "Knowing Me, Knowing You" all around. I have costumes in my head and they are PINK and COLLARLESS and they are WONDERFUL. You wish you could be here, you really do.

For the record, I like The Game, too. Especially this song:

"What's that?"

"It's Queen."

"What is it?"

"It's from The Game!"

"It's not... Freddie?"

"Er, I think it's Brian May."

"Oh... It's good. He sounds like John Waite."

"Hee hee!"

Sorry, Brian - he meant it as a compliment. Congrats on finally getting that astrophysics doctorate. Madly jealous here. Even your thesis title sounds like a concept album from the 70s: "Radial Velocities in the Zodiacal Dust Cloud."

(Or like one of those lame 90s bands with a prepositional phrase in the name. Those are the mullets of band naming.)

11 April 2008 |






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