2003-08-17
Marie
I was up at the crack of ass today. Writing this entry was the first thing on my mind.
Actually, no, it was the third.
My first thought was none of yo' damn business.
The second thought I had was, "I wonder why my cat likes to lick plastic bags?"
Then the entry. Here goes.
I am outing myself.
My name isn't Marie.
A little background...
When I was a child, I was a pop culture junkie. I know that's hard to believe, but go with me on this one.
Sesame Street, Mr. Roger's Neighborhood, The Electric Company and Zoom were my absolute favorite shows. Hey, at least I was watching PBS.
Don't even get me started on the Sid and Marty Krofft shows. Does anyone remember "Kaptain Kool and the Kongs?" Or am I the only one? I even had a puzzle of their picture. One of the dudes on that show went on to play Barbara's husband on "One Day at a Time." Lobsterchick has extolled the virtues of this show in her blog as well as the evil incarnate that IS Linda Lavin, in case anyone's interested.
However, for this pop culture addict, nothing, NOTHING could match one television show. The one and only.
The Donny and Marie Show.
Heroin. Pure heroin.
The show aired for the first time in 1976. I was six years old and instantly hooked. I sat in front of the television with a microphone, and recorded each episode on cassette tape. To this day, I can still see the opening ice skating segments, hear Donny saying, "Cute Marie, real cute!" and I STILL hum the closing theme song. Oh, who am I kidding, I belt out the words.
I have been known to duet "I'm A Little Bit Country, I'm A Little Bit Rock and Roll"...with myself.
I'm like an f'n one man band.
Peeps, I had the lunchbox, the dolls and the purple socks. Oh my gosh, I just remembered that my friend Kate had these excellent purple socks with pictures of ALL the Osmonds on the side, totem style. I was insanely jealous.
My family took me to see the Osmonds at a theater in the round. I sat on the aisle and touched both Donny and Marie's hands when they ran by in their platform shoes. Sheer bliss.
My aunt and uncle took a trip to the Summer Olympics in Montreal in 1976. Upon their return, they propped a Donny and Marie record album on my dresser next to my bed so I would see it and be excited when I woke up. You know your aunt and uncle are cool when the souvenir they bring you from the f'n Summer Olympics is a Donny and Marie album.
Last year, I went to see Donny Osmond in concert. If you can call it a concert. I call it Screaming Middle Aged Women With Some Singing Thrown In Occassionally. It was hilarious. Women were running up to the stage with flowers and albums and pictures. One woman propped the Donny Doll on the stage in a sitting position. The screams were deafening. Of course I joined right in! Duh.
So here I am, six years old, completely in love with Donny and in awe of Marie.
Stop laughing.
When I was born, my parents did not give me a middle name. Lots of people in our family are sans middle names. Which is fine, unless you are the only child in your class without a middle name. Oh, the torture! Back in the day, kids didn't worry about who had the newest and best technology. We worried about things like middle names and who was going to make friends with Cher's daughter Chastity on the playground. That's another story...
Poor me. Lacking a middle name sucked.
For my birthday (my seventh, I think) my mom and the aforementioned cool uncle went to City Hall and had my name legally changed. They added "Marie" to my name, in honor of Marie Osmond.
Stop laughing.
This is the truth. At the age of seven, my identity changed forever. My middle name remains the best gift I have ever received.
Hi, I'm Danielle.
joeparadox at 7:04 a.m.