Some necessary backstory:

Yesterday on Twitter Trish of Hey Lady wasn’t too proud to beg…for an ARC from a Scholastic rep by the name of Tyler. Thing is, Trish was so excited that she hit the d instead of g, resulting in her public announcement that she wasn’t too proud to bed.

Hilarity ensued. Or so it appears…unfortunately I missed all the fun (at Trish’s expense). However, I somehow got nominated to write the commemorative song. Luckily, Dawn (my partner in parodying crime) supplied me with the start of the chorus.

Before we get to the song, though, a bit more backstory. Last night on Twitter, in a show of support for her fellow redhead, Rebecca (from The Book Lady’s Blog) reiterated her willingness to throw her panties at John Irving. Which is all it took for her to get added to the song.

And then she double dog dared me to work Millie and Billy into the song. You may have read about Millie and Billy…they’re pretty famous. Billy might have a little crush on Millie. We’re not sure about Millie, as she always seems to be asleep. Someday, when they’re both awake, we’ll get them together for a little chat.

Anyways, back to the song. Picture The Temptations singing Ain’t Too Proud to Beg.  And while my version might be a little awkward, I guarantee it’ll sound better if you belt it out…

I have recently discovered a love for spam that has some basis in reality.  Here is the latest delivery found in my inbox.

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Dearest,

I am writing this mail to you with tears and sorrow from my heart. My name is Miss. Zhara Kipkalya Kones, 17yrs old female and I held from Kenya. My father was the former Kenyan road Minister. He and Assistant Minister of Home Affairs Lorna Laboso had been on board the Cessna 210, which was headed to Kericho and crashed in a remote area called Kajong’a, in western Kenya. The plane crashed on the Tuesday 10th, June, 2008. 

After the burial of my father, my step mother and uncle conspired and sold my father’s properties to an Italian expatriate which they shared the money among themselves and live nothing for me. One faithful morning, I opened my father’s briefcase and found out the documents which he have deposited huge amount of money in one bank in Abidjan, Cote d’Ivoire with my name as the next of kin. 

(blah, blah, blah, please help, please send money, etc…)

Awaiting your urgent and positive response. Please do keep this only to your self. I beg you not to disclose it till i come over because I am afraid of my wicked stepmother who has threatened to kill me and have the money.

Sincerely yours,
Zhara Kipkalya Kones

********************

Kipkalya Kones really did exist (he even has a wikipedia page), he really was the Kenyan Minister of Roads (cool job title, btw) and he really did die in a plane crash. I’m not too sure about the wicked stepmother, though.  Seems to me someone has been watching a little too much Cinderella.

Make that someones.  Unfortunately for Zhara,, her elder sister seems to be using the same sob story. Oh, and so is her other sister.  How many times do I have to remind you spammers…originality!!

The other day Chartroose referred to me as the notorious softdrink. I told her I felt like a rapper. I was thinking Notorious S had a certain ring to it, although after I thought about it some more (yes, I need a life) Notorious F.I.Z. sounds even better. Then I decided I needed a song. Unfortunately, I have no musical ability, and my poetic skills are missing in action, too. Luckily, the internet was there for me. I went searching for some rap lyrics that sounded familiar and that I could ummmm, personalize…yeah, that’s the word. So, I present to you…

Notorious F.I.Z, as inspired by Eminem*:

Hi!
My name is (what?)
My name is (who?)
My name is (chika-chika) Softdrink
Hi!
My name is (ha?)
My name is (what?)
My name is (chika-chika) Softdrink

Excuse me?
Can I have the attention of the class, for one second?

Hi kids, do you like reading books?
Wanna see me try to rap? Take a look.
Wanna copy me and do exactly like I did?
End up wearin’ glasses over your eyelids?
My brain’s dead weight.
I’m tryin’ to set my words straight, but I can’t figure out
which author I wanna imitate.
Chartroose said “Softdrink, you an asshat**.”
“Don’t be like Doprah. Don’t read that.”
Since I was a kid I’ve been a bookworm
Don’t wanna play, I’d rather read about wheatgerm
Stayed up late, but not on a date
I had to read one more page
Tellin’ me to turn off the light just sent me into a rage
I take a look and read a book
Faster than Snoop Dogg
I write a review on my blog.

My English teacher wanted me to read plays in junior high.
The only problem was,
It didn’t fly ‘cause Will was too dry.
All I remember is a merchant
Man that play is really ancient.
Today I took a little detour
Into the bookstore
Flashed the cashier my discount card
Found some new authors, hopefully no blowhards.
I’m currently reading Klosterman
He talks about tribute bands, when basketballs change hands
Wonder if he dances the can-can.

I just found out my mom reads more books than I do.
Wait, that’s not true.
I told her I’d grow up to be a famous author.
Write a book about lunch ladies, and name it after her
She said thank you.
You know you read too much when the doctor thinks he’s clever
Tells you your eyesight’s no better
How come I can’t see any of the letters?
It’s quite the bummer
But this verse is over.

Stop the tape!
This kid needs a book.
Don’t just stand there, take a look
In the bookstore
Or the library by the shore.
What to read next? I can barely decide.
I just read Eggers,
Dare me to deride?
All my life I’ve been sleep deprived.
I stay up late, I won’t be denied.
My palms are always holding a book
I’d rather stay in my PJ’s in my reading nook.
I squint when I look
into the distance
Too many years reading, for instance.
I lay awake dreaming up new endings
‘Cause I don’t like some of the author’s renderings
And by the way, I know I’m bad
I can’t rhyme
It makes me sad.

*This is no way an endorsement of Eminem and rap lyrics, which I generally find to be misogynistic, homophobic, demeaning crap.

**Chartroose didn’t really call me an asshat. Other people, yes. Me, no.