My adorable husband has this theory. He thinks that any song can sound hilarious if you sing it in an Elmer Fudd voice. In fact, he proves this theory for me on a regular basis as he finds even funnier songs to sing for me in his best Elmer Fudd impression. Our top two right now are the MacBook song (“There’s a new world…lalalalalalalalalalalalala”) and “Low, Low, Low” (PJ’s favorite song–really–we’re such bad parents). Try it for me right now. Sing what you know of each song with your best Elmer Fudd voice. “Thew’s a new would….wawawawawawawawa.” Laughing yet? I am trying to figure out how to type them!
This randomly occurred to me yesterday at the end of this crazy long train of thought, and as often happens when I end up on some random topic, I tried to trace it back to the beginning. And just because it’s so weird, I have to trace it for you too.
It started when I was thinking how I spent all of yesterday basically incapacitated from a headache. It was a stupid headache, even if it was pretty bad. I have a pretty high pain tolerance–I like to think anyway–but I let such silly things turn into huge events in my life. The reason is that I’m a bit of a hypochondriac. The reasons go all the way back to a traumatic bullying incident in junior high, but that’s neither here nor there.
I tend to keep my hypochondriac tendencies buried deep in the closet so that even M didn’t hear about them until fairly recently. But the truth is that when I start to feel a little sick, I begin to wonder if a headache isn’t just a headache. Yesterday’s was probably a migraine or a sinus headache, nothing exciting, but that didn’t keep me from thinking the words “brain aneurysm” and “brain tumor.” (You can’t blame me after hearing Erica’s story this week.) I was able to convince myself it was just a headache after all, but it wasn’t easy. In my own head, if it looks like a duck, acts like a duck, and sounds like a duck, it must be a flying pig.
I know there are probably all sorts of psychological issues there, but that’s not the point today, oddly enough.
Anyway, when I finally admitted this problem to M, we turned it into a big joke. Now anytime I complain about something, I laugh at myself and say, “It must be a tumor.” He laughs and answers in his best Arnold voice, “It’s not a tumor.” I guess he says that in some movie or something. I wouldn’t know; I’m not really an Arnold fan.
So from there, I started thinking about how much M quotes from movies. It’s become so commonplace for me, so much a part of our daily conversations, that I don’t even think about it very often.
Actually, he also slips into all sorts of goofy voices all the time as well. He’s pretty good at imitating all sorts of voices and accents. I also don’t tend to notice them (unless it’s an ethnic voice and there’s somebody of that ethnicity who might be within earshot).
So that got me thinking about my favorite voice he does, which must be Elmer Fudd.
See? Not as convoluted as you would have thought. But I’d had caffeine to help the headache last night, so that should explain the clearly racing thoughts that brought us to Elmer Fudd.