Monthly Archives: August 2011

Call for Submissions: Re-write the Lyrics to “Roxanne” by The Police

We’re having a girl!  Yay!  And we’re naming her Roxanne!  Double yay!

Except we’re both kind of sort of worried that the immediate association for anyone over 25 who hears the name “Roxanne” will be that song by The Police.  And naturally so.  It’s pretty catchy.  Our first indication that it might be a problem was that within about 2 seconds of pitching the name out there as a possibility, one of us started singing it.  The most recent indication came when the ultrasound technician asked us if we had a name picked out – when we told her, her immediate response was “I love that song!”

Yeah, I love that song, too.  But it’s about a whore.  So I’ll feel like an awful mother if I sing it to my baby.

Daniel came up with a pretty good solution. He’s suggested a few times that we simply use the name “Roxanna” instead of “Roxanne.”  Which makes a lot of sense.  Except that for reasons unknown, I love the name “Roxanne” but kind of don’t like the name “Roxanna” even a little bit.  I am not going to bother trying to explain this, because I don’t understand it either.

The fact that he came up with a really reasonable suggestion and I vetoed it, though, makes me extremely nervous.  If my daughter grows up with some sort of complex about the name or if, god forbid, the song enjoys some sort of renaissance or remake during her junior high school years, no one will be able to convince me that I am not personally responsible for ruining her life forever.

The only other solution is to re-write the words into something totally appropriate to sing to a baby.  Something that isn’t prostitute related.  SO I NEED YOUR HELP.

Please re-write the lyrics to “Roxanne” for me.

I’ll do this contest-style.  I’ll keep submissions open until Octoberish/Novemberish.  I’ll send you nifty prizes, including:

  • A copy of my book when it comes out later this year, with a new work written on the back cover that lifts and remixes lines from the new lyrics you’ve written.
  • A portrait of you hanging out with Nyan Cat, Honey Badger, Maru, or other internet celebrity of your choice, drawn by yours truly.
  • Other really, really exciting things that I haven’t figured out yet.

And, of course, I’ll post the lyrics up here, because the worlds need them; I can’t be the only expectant mom out there who wants to name her daughter Roxanne and is being kept up at nights about this.  You’d be doing the world a service.  Really.  THIS IS A PUBLIC BENEFIT, AND YOU’RE A GOOD PERSON, RIGHT?

Be a superhero.  Help a sister out.

Being Pregnant is Weird

I have been tremendously inconsistent about updating my blog.  Because I am pregnant, I will blame this inconsistency on the fact that I suffered from fairly intense morning sickness for three months straight.  Anyone who cares to do the math on this excuse will quickly realize that my longest period of blog-slacking actually occurred after the morning sickness had ended.  But you know what?  No one argues with a pregnant lady.  That’s one of the nice things about being pregnant.

The other nice thing about being pregnant is maternity pants.  Maternity pants feel like a cross between PajamaJeans® and down from a Zeus-swan.

   





Those are the two nice things about being pregnant. That’s it.

The rest of being pregnant is pretty much what you’d expect: for example, right now, I am barefoot.  I spent the morning watching Maury Povich and sewing the holes in my hand-me-down maternity pants.  Later on today, I will probably bake a pie.