I have only one request of your life

Dear friends,

It happened every single time the commercial aired and That Song would play. My head would tilt a little to the side. My mouth would open slightly. Then I'd look at J and he'd look at me.

Sample conversation:

D: Oh my God. That song. Is killing me.

J: It's excruciating.

D: It's like every single tooth in my head is being pulled. In slow motion.

J: It sounds like she's dying.

D: I'm dying.

J: Who is that?

D: Dusty? Karen Carpenter?

(Listens)

It's like Dusty on Quaaludes. Or Karen...right before the end, low on potassium and just barely holding on.

J: (Side glance)

D: I know. This song isn't helping.

* * *

The above conversational snippet is a TOTAL FABRICATION*. Well...not total. That song does kill me. Every time that diamond necklace commercial commences and those strings start a'trembling, I fear for my sanity. It used to play all the time and it got so bad that it became outright comedy. I'd suddenly turn to J in the middle of conversations and start singing "What are you doooo-ing the reeeeeeest of your liiiiiiiiife?" and then dissolve into nervous laughter. The kind of laughter inspired by cemeteries.

But seriously, there's something so terrifying about the lugubrious, record at the wrong speed quality of the vocal that that very line, "What are you doing for the rest of your life?" becomes a torture threat. I don't think this is what the singer wanted. She merely wants to suggest, somewhat lethargically, that you stay with her forever. So what went wrong? Why does it sound like the prelude to something very bad indeed?

You be the judge.

Dusty Springfield and her eyeliner give you the look of love.

Song to seek (at your own peril):

What Are You Doing The Rest of Your Life?/Dusty Springfield (YST link)

Buy Dusty Springfield's Dusty in London.

* * *

What Are You Doing The Rest of Your Life?/Dusty Springfield

Buy Dusty in London on Amazon MP3

* * *

It was Dusty after all. I'm not familiar with Dusty in London. But I will be. I purchased the album. I had to. I'm a musical masochist.

Actual sample conversation:

(J sits on the couch, D comes out of kitchen, dish in hand.)

D: Yeah, so I told him...

(Commercial starts. Song plays. D stops talking. D and J stare at the screen.)

D: Oh my God. That song.

J: Yup.

Love, D

*In fact, J would like me to stress to you, O reader, that he would never, ever use the word "excruciating" in conversation.