Tag Archives: cold

Baby, It’s Rapey Inside

Today, we’ll be taking one of the holiday’s most beloved songs and really taking a closer look. Now, here’s a song people choose to sing often. You hear it on the radio throughout winter. Even school children are taught this song. Baby, It’s Cold Outside, the hit single by Frank Loesser (notice the last name here…) is filled with some lovable notes, and some really lovable notes. So here it is, for your inspection, The Rubbe’s interpretation of…

Baby, It’s Cold Outside

I really can’t stay – Baby it’s cold outside
I’ve got to go away – Baby it’s cold outside
Okay, here we start with two people. One is telling the other that he/she has to go home. The other is not listening, and repeating the obvious. For reasons, I am going to say the first is a girl and the second is a boy.

This evening has been – Been hoping that you’d drop in
So very nice – I’ll hold your hands, they’re just like ice
So in these lines she’s ready to go home, but he’s not having that.

My mother will start to worry – Beautiful, what’s your hurry
My father will be pacing the floor – Listen to the fireplace roar
She’s telling him that her mother and father are going to be looking for her. She’s letting him know that whatever happens tonight, he won’t get away with it.

So really I’d better scurry – Beautiful, please don’t hurry
Well Maybe just a half a drink more – Put some music on while I pour
Now here, she’s obviously developing pity. “Maybe he’ll leave me alone if I comply,” she thinks to herself.

The neighbors might think – Baby, it’s bad out there
Say, what’s in this drink – No cabs to be had out there
And suddenly we know what kind of night we’re heading for. He’s put something in her drink. It’s caused her to forget what she was going to say about her neighbors. This is horrible…

I wish I knew how – Your eyes are like starlight now
To break this spell – I’ll take your hat, your hair looks swell
She’s been roofied. Or something worse. She’s starting to develop some kind of Stockholm syndrome. Poor woman. Off with her hat, and now he’s a little more comfortable. 

I ought to say no, no, no, sir – Mind if I move a little closer
At least I’m gonna say that I tried – What’s the sense in hurting my pride
She knows she should fight, but the roofies aren’t letting her, and he’s slowly painting the scene.

I really can’t stay – Baby don’t hold out
Ahh, but it’s cold outside
Baby don’t hold out? Oh, fuck.

C’mon baby I simply must go – Baby, it’s cold outside
The answer is no – Ooh baby, it’s cold outside
She’s trying to fight back. Now he’s back to stating the obvious; telling her that it’d be ridiculous to leave since she’d freeze… He’s trying to say there’s no hope.

This welcome has been – I’m lucky that you dropped in
So nice and warm — Look out the window at that storm
“Why would you want to leave my cozy house?” he says. “Look at that weather. It’s better to be here, where I can rape you.”

My sister will be suspicious – Gosh, your lips look so delicious
My brother will be there at the door – Waves upon a tropical shore
Again she tries to let him know that someone is bound to be looking for her.

My maiden aunt’s mind is vicious – Ooh, your lips are delicious
Well maybe just a half a drink more – Never such a blizzard before
He’s taking advantage of her fragile state and has tried to kiss her.

I’ve got to go home – Oh, baby, you’ll freeze out there
Say, lend me a coat – It’s up to your knees out there
She’s trying to explain that with a coat she’ll be fine. But this guy just won’t let her go. “It’s me or the storm, baby.”

You’ve really been grand – Your eyes are like starlight now
But don’t you see – How can you do this thing to me
Now he’s blaming her. “You make me crazy! Don’t you see? I need you now!” This guy is a monster…

There’s bound to be talk tomorrow – Think of my life long sorrow
At least there will be plenty implied – If you caught pneumonia and died
Now he’s trying to make her feel guilty. “If something bad happened to you, I’d be devastated! Do you want that on my conscience?”

I really can’t stay – Get over that hold out
Ahh, but it’s cold outside
One last attempt to stop the crazy rapist.

Baby it’s cold outside Brr its cold… It’s cold out there -Cant you stay awhile longer baby?
Well… I really shouldn’t… alright – Make it worth your while baby.
This poor woman.

Ahh, do that again…
Now here at the end, we don’t know who’s talking. But we can safely assume it’s him, and he’s just raped her. Let’s hope he used a rubber.

As you can see, Loesser (Yes, that’s his name) has dropped some…subtle hints from deep,deep into his head. But wait! That’s not all. According to the world’s most infamous source of information (Wikipedia), this song was never meant to be a Christmas song. Gee, I wonder why. And even more disturbing is the fact that this song was originally performed by Loesser and his wife, who claimed that it was their song. She was furious when Loesser sold it, first appearing in Neptune’s Daughter, where a mouse and wolf perform the song. From the get go, Loesser intended the song to be sung by a mouse(female) and a wolf(male). Even in our dearest childhood memories, The Muppet Show, Miss Piggy takes the wolf role and sings it to Kermit.

Yes, that's a whip in her hands...

Next time you’re sitting around the fire with your family and decide to spread some holiday cheer, think twice before pulling out Baby It’s Cold Outside.

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DON’T PANIC

I live at school. During Christmas break, I come home and bring most of my junk with me, especially the things that need to be washed (an early Christmas present for my darling mother). However, I do, from time to time, take trips back to my dorm, as I did this exceptionally fateful day.

Okay, maybe fateful is a tad over dramatic.

Well, I was having myself a nice chat with the boyfriend over the interspace and he tells me he’d be right over. Cue this face:

Mushroom cloud of trepidation.

Why? Because I stink. Not a problem! You say. Just take a shower. That’s what I thought too. I grabbed some articles of clothing and went my merry way when I stopped cold. I forgot to bring a towel. My roommate was sleeping. I could have stolen her towel, but that’s just so wrong. What else could I do? Air dry? No, that would take too long. So then, what’s just as good as towels?

Paper towels.

Naked, I dashed into the living room, grabbed the towels and ran back into the bathroom. All right, let’s do this! La, la, la, la, la! In the shower! All’s good. I step out, rip off a piece of paper towel, and start dabbin’ myself. One paper towel soaked. Two paper towels soaked. Three. Four. Five! Oh gawd, too many paper towels. I’m way too eco-friendly for this. As I stood there, naked and cold, I had a great idea!

I’ll use the door! So I opened the door, made sure everyone was still sleeping, and then started swinging it back and forth between my hands. Sure, the burst of air was freezing, but tell you what. It got the job done. In a strange way. And, so as to please your hypothetical side, I have included a diagram of what that may have looked like, should you have been the unlucky bastard looking down the hall.

Notice the shower cap. Hot, huh?

Was I dry? Indeed. Was it weird? Quite. Mission accomplished? Verily! I slipped on some undergarments and for the next 15 minutes, chilled in mah undies. Turned on the tube, flipped through the channels a bit, enjoyed my new-found faux-naturel state…

And then the air came on.

Always know where your towel is.

-Douglas Adams

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Dear Dude

Dear Dude from High School I had a crush on who decided I wasn’t good enough,

I saw you the other day working at Film Depot. You looked good! For a balding 25 year old. Yeah… I saw that. Funny how you tried to hide it by letting your hair get long. How you could have possibly come up with that solution is beyond me. Oh, and the beat up 1984 Volkswagen golf? Classic touch. Real.. retro… Ugh, sorry, excuse me. I almost barfed writing that line.

Hey! I was wondering about that Alternative Rock band you had been trying to put together. Yeah, how’s that going? Oh, still in its Garage band phase? Oh, totally, I know how that goes. It hasn’t really taken off. Still trying to find your sound after all these years. Dude, that’s rough.

Wait a sec! How’s that babe you totally ignored me for? Remember the one with the rockin’ body? Man, she was hot! Oh, she’s a porn star now? She left you because she didn’t get your music? Harsh, bro. Was it the inquisitive artist’s soul that confused her, or just the fact that you started working at a movie stop right after high school after promising her she’d get to star in your ‘way awesome’ music video? Man, women. They just don’t get the life of a poor musician. Of course it’s not all rockin’ out and partyin’ on. It was her, huh? She stopped the creative flow. Good thing you got rid of her.

But I bet you’ve got your own place now, yeah? Living in a cool bachelor pad with a bitchin’ view? Oh, at your mom’s house? She’s making you sleep on the couch!? What the hell, man? Doesn’t she understand that a grown man has to have his own room? She shouldn’t just expect you to get out when family members are around! How embarrassing, dude. Not cool.

Well, I’ll let you get back to stocking those totally awesome movies. Good luck with ‘Flying High’. Oh, you changed the name of your band? Now it’s ‘Just Get Drunk’? Oh, dude, please, you’re totally going to go places.

Peace out,
That girl who “just wasn’t what you were looking for”

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An Open Letter to the Girl Wearing Short Shorts in the Winter

I saw you. Sitting alone at the bus stop, tapping your foot along to whatever inane music was blasting through your earphones. Or tapping your foot in an attempt to disguise your shivering.  Yeah, I knew. Everyone knows. You’re not fooling anyone in your black NYU hoodie and itty-bitty jean shorts. When you woke up this morning, what possessed you to put those on? Did you think, for a second, that maybe you woke up in Hawaii? All right, fine. I’ll give it you. Maybe you were pressed for time. But jeans? Really?

Jeans get cold. Quick.

I’m not going to pretend I can’t see the goose bumps on your legs from all the way over here. I mean, every small gust of wind is like a punch to my face, and I love the winter! Wonder what it’s doing to you. But, honestly, why?

Did you think it was fashionable to walk around on icicles? Is the top half of your body that only half that counts? Someone wrote in your 8th grade science textbook that gangrene only extends to your upper limbs and that was the only thing you ever retained from your childhood after the hard drugs and liquor took over your brain?

Yeah, I’m going to assume you must be smokin’ some good stuff to be walking around in 50 degree weather with a pair of jean shorts, flip-flops, and a hoodie. A part of me, albeit a small part, just wanted to run up to you and shove you into my pocket as an act of kindness.

Maybe this one can be saved.

No, there will be more. One winter, they’ll adorn every Christmas clothing ad and end up a huge fad. People everywhere will freeze to death in an attempt to emulate you, short shorts girl, you and your indelible fashion sense.

Just tell me why. Why do you do this? Is it a trial into adulthood? A mating ritual? New way to skip exercise and shake all the fat away? And how, how do you do it? How do you manage to sit on those cold, bare metal benches with half of your ass exposed and your poor thighs truckin’ through it?

I want to know what you know.

You’re one crazy sonnababetch, but you know what, short shorts girl? Props. Major props for keeping a straight face all day long.

Mad jelly,

Lissy

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Open Letters #2: Save my Skin

Dear Winter,

 

I know you think you’re cool and all that, but I’m here to tell you that your coolness is touching me the wrong way. Literally. Now, I love breezy mornings as much as the next person, but what I don’t love is this:

Imagine waking up in a freezing room. You remove the covers and make a sleepy shuffle to the bathroom. Eyes still partially closed, you slip off any undergarments and take a seat. The surprise that follows is shocking; your ass is now temporarily frozen by the icicle of a toilet seat underneath you. You realize that you’ve already sat down and there’s no going back. So you brace it. You sit there, goosebumped, half-naked, and vulnerable to the elements, just trying to get your day started.

That’s messed up, Winter. What kind of prank is that? How would you like it if I came to your house and, for 2-4 months, consistently melted your ass every morning? I don’t know about you, but attempting to hover over Lake Eisurassof for 30-55 seconds every morning is messing with my head.  I just don’t have that kind of strength in the mornings!

Haven’t even had a slice of toast yet.

You don’t even get this, do you? You’re not even listening! I love you, I do. I really, really do. I just want you to leave the toilet seat and my warm thighs out of this. Or go to the neighbor’s house. I always hear them talking shit about you.

You’re not gonna do anything, huh? Well, at least my clothes won’t melt onto my skin (Yeah, I’m talking about you Summer. You’re next, you frilly piece of…).

 

Well, see you in the morning,

Lissy

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