When she was much younger Barb had a dream job. One that she'd aspired to all her life. She was a singer in a prominent girl group. She got to dress up, get all dolled up and accessorized and best of all she got to sing and dance. She couldn't be happier. But Barb had a hard time separating her life on stage from real life. In fact, when she met new people she'd often shake their hands, look them straight in the eye, shoot her arms up in the air to the right and then the left, take a quick step forward, a step back, turn and whisper:
Hi, they used to call me Barb the Blue Angel
dum, dum, dum
And she continued to act this way long after they'd turned out the spotlight. She didn't know who had turned it out but someone evidently had. Probably the last one to leave the theatre. Needless to say people would be taken aback not having expected such a greeting. But Barb would just laugh and say:
Yakety yak, yakety yak
Don't talk back
She'd often tell people "I'm big. It's the 45s that got small." Her favourite rejoined was "Tell Mr. Lanois I'm ready for my solo." Bizarre, yes, but she was, in an odd way, meticulous about her musical meanderings.
For example, may years ago her then steady boyfriend Thor, lead guitarist in a punk band took her out for a quiet dinner one night and popped the question. Barb replied:
Ooh wah, ooh wah, ooh wah, ooh wah, ooh wah, ooh wah
Why do fools fall in love?
Just then the waitress passed by and Barb asked her:
Ah, ya ya ya ya ya ya ya ya ya ya ya ya
Could we get the bill?
But Barb wasn't long for this world unfortunately. One day, after imbibing a few too many fruity alcoholic drinks with little umbrellas at the Washed Out and Destitute whiskey bar, she added her name to the pantheon of once promising rock and roll artists who died before their time and stumbled into the path of a magic bus and was killed instantly. Now Barb had earned herself quite the reputation as a back-up singer and in the years to come after her "popular " years. But not a very positive one. Along with being meticulous and a natty dresser she also was a bit of a bitch. Thus it came as no surprise to those gathered when the music accompanying the funeral procession began:
A wimoweh, a wimoweh
A wimoweh, a wimoweh
the lion sleeps tonight
And those who thought Thor might have chosen The Bitch Is Back breathed a sigh of relief.
The prompt from Tara at Two Word Tuesdays was meticulous/punctilious this week.