I get too hungry for dinner at eight.
I like the theatre but never come late.
I never bother with people I hate.
Let's see--yes, yes, and a thousand times, YES. We can just stop here, actually. This is my anthem.
I don't like crap games with Barons and Earls.
Won't go to Harlem in ermine and pearls.
Won't dish the dirt with the rest of the girls.
Okay, so I had to look up what "ermine" was (it is a fancy white fur stoat) but yeah, definitely wouldn't go to Harlem--or anywhere--wearing that. And "dishing the dirt" = "stirring up drama." No thank you.
I like the free, fresh wind in my hair, life without care.
I'm broke--it's oke!
Hate California, it's cold and it's damp.
All true thus far. (Except about hating California. That's false. I love you, California.) Also, in case you were wondering, "oke" is "okay" in this instance.
I go to Coney, the beach is divine.
I go to ball games, the bleachers are fine.
I follow Winchell and read every line.
Never been to Coney Island, but I love the beach in general, as long as it isn't over-crowded (see previous line about "not bothering"). And the cheap seats at a baseball game are basically the only thing that is great about America these days. Winchell was a gossip columnist way back when--but I mean, if we're being completely honest, I love that juicy celebrity gossip as much as the next girl. However, now instead of getting it from the newspaper, I glean if off of Refinery29 or Bravo.
I like a prize fight that isn't a fake.
I love the rowing on Central Park lake.
I go to opera and stay wide awake.
I would've gotten into the huge boxing match last weekend had it not been utterly ridiculous on all accounts. Bodies of water are my jam, clichéd Central Park included. And don't get me started on the opera. I sang that stuff in high school and college. It's legit.
I like the green grass under my shoes, what can I lose?
I'm flat--that's that!
I'm all alone when I lower my lamp.
Mmm-hmmm, guilty on all charges.
Don't know the reason for cocktails at five.
I don't like flying, I'm glad I'm alive.
I crave affection, but not when I drive.
Happy hour is just an excuse to drink away the misery and emptiness you get from your day job. Flying gets a bad rap (thanks, Homeland Security), but I could take it or leave it. And I prefer driving alone so I can roll all the windows down and turn the radio way up and sing.
Folks go to London and leave me behind.
I'll miss the crowning, Queen Mary won't mind.
I don't play Scarlett in "Gone With the Wind".
I've always harbored a deep desire to punch Scarlett O'Hara in the throat.
I like to hang my hat where I please, sail with the breeze.
No dough--hey, ho!
I love La Guardia and think he's a champ.
(La Guardia was the mayor of New York City. I'll refrain from commenting on the current mayor of NYC at this time.)
Girls get massages, they cry and they moan.
Tell Lizzie Arden to leave me alone.
I'm not so hot, but my shape is my own.
(Lizzie Arden is referring to Elizabeth Arden, the cosmetics mogul.) There's an entire feminist agenda in three lines here. Take that, Meghan Trainor.
The food at Sardi's is perfect, no doubt.
I don't know what the Ritz is about.
I drop a nickel and coffee comes out.
Sardi's is that restaurant in Times Square where all the caricatures of celebrities are hanging on the walls. Wouldn't be caught dead there. Hate that touristy stuff. Ain't nobody got time (or money) for that.
I like the sweet, fresh rain in my face.
Diamonds and lace, no got--so what?
So what? The perfect retort. The perfect song. The perfect summation of my life philosophy.
And that's why the lady is a tramp!
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