Termagant Tuesday: “Jolie Coquine,” Caravan Palace



Let’s list the things I want and can’t have, because that’s fun and healthy:

  • longer legs
  • thousands of dollars in disposable income per month for clothes
  • a bi-monthly trip to Europe (Paris, Prague, Munich, London, Barcelona, and Rome – on rotation)
  • internal organs that regenerate every night so I can indulge my vices scot-free
  • feet that can handle four-inch heels without pain
  • a mint green Vespa (I can’t have this because I would absolutely get pasted onto the side of a bus)
  • be best friends with Stephen Fry, P.G. Wodehouse, Dorothy Parker, Fred Astaire, George Plimpton, and David Rakoff, and have them over for dinner weekly
  • lots of glamor and very little responsibility
  • a metabolism like a bullet train so I can finally have a fettucine alfredo-centric diet
  • fluency in the theories of particle physics and epistemology
  • a microwave that doesn’t sound like a Zamboni when it heats up my turkey meatballs (I could have this if I didn’t have a fundamental belief that home appliances should cost about $10)
  • a castle
  • be guest conductor of the Cleveland Symphony Orchestra
  • be able to play the shawm (my neighbors would kill me)
  • basically be the most interesting woman in the world.  With really long legs and undead friends and absolutely incredible clothes.

I can’t have any of that.  But I can listen to this song and daydream about it.  That’s something.


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