Dotty Parker

minnie's bloomers

This song from my single trip to Girl Scout camp keeps going through my head. It pops up periodically for reasons I don’t know.

I’ve always thought that it was “Minnie”, but the Canadian Boy Scouts (what the hell do they know?) say it’s “Middies”. Given the rest of the song, which I didn’t know, I suppose middies makes more sense. Nevertheless, I shall share with you the fabulous song that won’t leave me alone.

Middies, bloomers, middies, bloomers all day long.
She wears them in the morning; she wears them at noon,
She only takes them off by the light of the moon, Woooo!
Middies, bloomers, middies, bloomers all day long.

Other verses:

Straw hats, knee socks, straw hats knee socks all day long . . .
Girdle, sneakers, girdle, sneakers all day long . . .

Why does this song stick in my head? BellyRub knows that all kinds of songs get stuck in my head. He knows this because he gets them stuck in his head, too. I don't think we know why. Genetic mutation is my bet.

I don’t know if he remembers the Monchhichi song, but I sure do.

Monchhichi, Monchhichi! Oh so soft and cud-a-ly!
With his thumb in his mouth he’s really sweet!
It’s fun to play with their little feet!
La la la! La la la!
Happy, happy Monchhichi!
(Then the little girl says) I love you Monchhichi!

Of course growing up can make things a little bit different, although the Monchhichis still make me happy. The last time I saw a real Monchhichi was when I was driving home from Moravia in a snit. I decided to stop at the sketchy looking store full of junk. They had a wee Monchhichi key chain hanging on the Venetian blind pull. Had he hanged himself? His moment of glory over, my life turned into a vague adulthood, all the Monchhichi joy gone from our lives? All grown up and no little feet to play with.

I found a web site that has Monchhichi merchandise, but it’s slow. Way too slow. EssEllOhDoubleYou Slow. I get cranky waiting for it. So I write more. And here you are reading it because you’re very sweet and are avoiding your other work. How much do I love you for that?

Very much. Here’s the link if you’re curious. I do not recommend it.

Looking at junk that isn't mine is relaxing for me. I feel better knowing that someone took the time to collect wooden salt and pepper shakers from National Parks and all the figural perfume bottle from Avon.

I like seeing old drinking glasses that have E.T. depicted on them. In fact, I may go back and see if I can find a fancy present for Mr. Guy who recently saw a v. fine set of retro glasses. (He lives in the big city, though, and you have to pay top dollar for such things.)

I enjoy seeing VFW uniforms that most certainly came from someone’s dead father. How much did they get for that uniform, do you think? Then there are all the bit of hardware that I couldn’t even begin to identify.

As I said, though, growing up makes lots of things different. I looked up Minnie’s bloomers to find that it was middies, bloomers. I looked up Monchichi to find out that the thing I was thinking about had two Hs in the middle. I also found that monchichi must mean monkey in Japanese. And if you spell check it, Word wants to make it say “monkfish”.

Those wacky Japanese. They make me happy too. Look what I found! Very safe monkeys. And it’s in character, too, I suppose. You know how monkeys are in the zoo, sexually frustrated creatures trying to horrify parents into not explaining what the sweet, asexual, little monkeys are doing.

Wow.

If that isn't the sexiest thing that relates to sexually transmitted diseases and water balloons, I don't know what is.

Posted by dotty at August 1, 2004 12:28 PM