Rudolph, We Hardly Knew Ye

I've mentioned before in previous posts that I enjoy singing and dancing. These are things I prefer not to do in front of other people, except in cases of serious drunkenness or for entertainment purposes when I can be absolutely certain people are laughing with me rather than at me. Therefore when I am at home alone I tend to take full advantage by cranking my speakers up to 11 and bellowing heartily along to whatever song is playing. I have a fairly varied taste, I think, and my ipod ranges from Music You'd Be Embarrassed To Admit Your Gran Listened To, Never Mind Yourself ("I don't know how 'Ooh Aah Just A Little Bit' got on there, I really don't. Must be an iTunes malfunction. The whole album? Really? My goodness, how odd") to So Down With The Kids, I Even Know What Krumping Is.

However, since my musical taste is so far-reaching and my little ottery mind is so full of other things, occasionally I forget that what I'm singing is not well matched to the current situation - apparently delivering a rousing rendition of Tenacious D's classic 'Fuck Her Gently' at the cats is neither impressive nor parentally appropriate, something I really should remember in case I ever spawn some little Otternators (a day we should all worry about). So it was with relief on her face that Other Half found me in the kitchen, wailing along to 'Baby It's Cold Outside'.

Other Half: You do know it's Spring, right?

Me: (looking at the sunshine pouring through the window and feigning amazement) You don't say!

Other Half: Isn't that a bit too festive?

Me: Christmas songs should be enjoyed all year round. Hey, you know what's weird?

Other Half eyes me with apprehension, because when I ask that question it invariably means we're going to have a conversation which can only end in puzzled expressions, frustrated nose-pinching and a giant, swelling cricket orchestra playing the delicate harmonies of awkward silence against the backdrop of our lives.

Other Half: (sighing) Go on then.

Me: Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer. Have you ever thought about the lyrics?

Other Half: I can't say that I have.

Me: (brandishing a spoon) Consider this. The other reindeer initially wouldn't let Rudoph join in their reindeer games, correct?

Other Half: Yes...

Me: This was specifically because he was different in the nasal region. The song states that they laughed and called him names. Harassment. Intimidation. Slander. Those are serious charges.

Other Half: (pinches nose) Right...

Me: They only let him into their snooty regular-nosed club AFTER Santa took an interest in Rudolph, right? Only after Rudolph had become a minor celebrity! In an Arctic way, obviously. He wasn't, like, the David Beckham of reindeers or anything.

Other Half: Um...

Me: Therefore, I have proved that reindeer are spiteful, bullying, shallow creatures who immerse themselves in lives of superficial fame and glamour. It is a sad, lonely existence.

Other Half: Have you been drinking?

Me: Maybe a little. Fickle reindeer! You know it makes sense.

Other Half: You and your theories.

Me: Me and my theories are breaking ground. Hey, I forgot to ask you earlier - do you have your tickets?

Other Half: Tickets? What tick- NO! Do not start that again.

Me: The Gun Show just isn't the same without you.

Other Half: (exiting hurriedly) I'm leaving the room! Possibly the building.

Me: (following and smirking) Well then you're in luck, because the Gun Show is on tour! COMING TO A HOUSE NEAR YOU!

Other Half:....Dammit.