Letter proposing marriage to Billy Joel
Dear Mr. Joel:
I noticed your recent marriage to a twenty-three year old. Well, perhaps she is twenty-four, maybe even twenty-five. Either way, I'm close enough. I turned twenty-three in August. That puts me right about at half your age. Apparently you do not object to dating women half your age, or marrying them for that matter. While I have never much thought about dating people my father's age, much less marrying them, I would most definitely consider you as a candidate for marriage. Though I am engaged myself, there are no definite future wedding plans. So let's just say I'm open to suggestions, namely, marrying you. You haven't been married that long. Maybe it's still possible to get an annulment?
I want to let you know up front that I would not be marrying you for your money. I would even be willing to sign a pre-nup despite the fact that I am fully against the very idea of them. I'm not even sure I would be marrying you for your looks. No, I would be marrying you so that you could sing to me every day in that glorious Eastern accent of yours. You could test out new song lyrics on me. I would be honest.
Because I grew up in a small suburb in MN, it would be difficult for me to understand your childhood, so we should prolly stay away from that topic. Also, you must refrain from talking about the Carter administration because I wasn't even born yet. In fact, many of your hits were written and produced well before I was produced. But I know them all anyway. In fact, I'm pretty sure I blew out my car speakers the last time I was listening to "Uptown Girl." The other day I made my students journal to "We Didn't Start the Fire." I saw a few of the freshmen tapping their toes. (Ok, that's a lie, but it did take all my restraint not to blask out "JFK blown away!" And yes, I love "Piano Man" but I figure you think it's overdone, so I won't make you sing that to me often.
Oh, know also that I am a Barry Manilow fan. Not a huge one, but there are a few songs that I absolutely adore. I would make you sing these to me. You can change the "Mandy" lyrics to include my name. And at Christmas I whip out the Raffi Xmas album. (Ok, sometimes I listen to it in the middle of July as well.) We could sing along. I would let your voice drown out my off-key attempt at "Must be Santa." You and my dad could have duets. I believe he's a tenor. When you're done you can talk about the day Lennon was shot, how you felt about the Vietnam War, and other such monumental events that, again, happened long before I was around.
Keep in mind that I am no Christie Brinkley. I've also seen pics of the new wife. Again, not nearly as attractive. And as I mentioned before, I am no singer. So what can I offer? A fantastic appreciation for your music, and sometimes I do laundry. Also, I make a hell of a breakfast sandwich. And I really do promise it's not about the money. I'm no Uptown Girl. I'm low maintanence and I like beer. No girly-girly drinks for me.
Think about it,
Casey
Note to self: the one goal I actually finished entirely today. Go me.
I noticed your recent marriage to a twenty-three year old. Well, perhaps she is twenty-four, maybe even twenty-five. Either way, I'm close enough. I turned twenty-three in August. That puts me right about at half your age. Apparently you do not object to dating women half your age, or marrying them for that matter. While I have never much thought about dating people my father's age, much less marrying them, I would most definitely consider you as a candidate for marriage. Though I am engaged myself, there are no definite future wedding plans. So let's just say I'm open to suggestions, namely, marrying you. You haven't been married that long. Maybe it's still possible to get an annulment?
I want to let you know up front that I would not be marrying you for your money. I would even be willing to sign a pre-nup despite the fact that I am fully against the very idea of them. I'm not even sure I would be marrying you for your looks. No, I would be marrying you so that you could sing to me every day in that glorious Eastern accent of yours. You could test out new song lyrics on me. I would be honest.
Because I grew up in a small suburb in MN, it would be difficult for me to understand your childhood, so we should prolly stay away from that topic. Also, you must refrain from talking about the Carter administration because I wasn't even born yet. In fact, many of your hits were written and produced well before I was produced. But I know them all anyway. In fact, I'm pretty sure I blew out my car speakers the last time I was listening to "Uptown Girl." The other day I made my students journal to "We Didn't Start the Fire." I saw a few of the freshmen tapping their toes. (Ok, that's a lie, but it did take all my restraint not to blask out "JFK blown away!" And yes, I love "Piano Man" but I figure you think it's overdone, so I won't make you sing that to me often.
Oh, know also that I am a Barry Manilow fan. Not a huge one, but there are a few songs that I absolutely adore. I would make you sing these to me. You can change the "Mandy" lyrics to include my name. And at Christmas I whip out the Raffi Xmas album. (Ok, sometimes I listen to it in the middle of July as well.) We could sing along. I would let your voice drown out my off-key attempt at "Must be Santa." You and my dad could have duets. I believe he's a tenor. When you're done you can talk about the day Lennon was shot, how you felt about the Vietnam War, and other such monumental events that, again, happened long before I was around.
Keep in mind that I am no Christie Brinkley. I've also seen pics of the new wife. Again, not nearly as attractive. And as I mentioned before, I am no singer. So what can I offer? A fantastic appreciation for your music, and sometimes I do laundry. Also, I make a hell of a breakfast sandwich. And I really do promise it's not about the money. I'm no Uptown Girl. I'm low maintanence and I like beer. No girly-girly drinks for me.
Think about it,
Casey
Note to self: the one goal I actually finished entirely today. Go me.
posted by KC in Katoland at 11:24 PM
1 Comments:
Oh Sweet Jesus, yes.
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