Monique

I like to think that kurttrue.com is a Web site with a social conscience. Maybe not the same kind of social conscience you'd find at aclu.org or that "Save the Whales" web site, but, lets face it, I ain't exactly Julia Butterfly Hill.

And a cause that my friends know is really close to my heart is the whole issue of second class status that our culture has bestowed on women and girls named Monique. Think about it. There is a song for just about every woman's name, "Donna," "Carol," "Peggy Sue," "Tell Laura I Love Her," "Marie from Sunny Italy," "Sweet Georgia Brown," "Hard Hearted Hannah (The Vamp of Savanna, GA)," I could go on and on.

But when has anybody ever written a song about a chick named Monique? Monique! A perfectly good and legitimate name that fits readily into iambic meter and rhymes with any number of English words!

I have devoted all my musical talents to rectifying this deplorable situation, and I offer this doo wop song that I've been kicking around for the past ten years or so. Since I'm not in the strictest sense an actual musician, I don't have any musical notation to go along with the lyrics, but you can just plug them into the standard doo wop melody. Just get "Alley Oop" running through your head first, and then start reading:

Well, I just met a girl and her name's Monique.
Monique, Monique, Monique, Monique.
She's been on my mind about a half a week.
Monique, Monique, Monique, Monique.

She works in a truck stop slingin' hash.
Monique, Monique, Monique, Monique.
And they don't take checks, so you better bring cash.
Monique, Monique, Monique, Monique.

And it ain't too chic.
Monique.

The customers all look like raving psychotics
Monique, Monique, Monique, Monique.
And it's so greasy, you'll feel like you need antibiotics.
Monique, Monique, Monique, Monique.

You can get a chili cheese burger in a jumbo size
Monique, Monique, Monique, Monique.
That'll put hair on your chest and bring tears to your eyes.
Monique, Monique, Monique, Monique.

And it ain't for the meek.
Monique.

Well, it was Saturday night, and it was cold and wet
Monique, Monique, Monique, Monique.
And her hair looked like something you'd see on Tammy Wynette.
Monique, Monique, Monique, Monique.

She said "God Lord Almighty, it's quarter past eight."
Monique, Monique, Monique, Monique.
"Who in the hell ordered this Jell-O plate?"
Monique, Monique, Monique, Monique.

"Must be some kind of a freak."
Monique.

Well, she walked outta the kitchen all huffin' and puffin'
Monique, Monique, Monique, Monique.
Holding a hot turkey sandwich with gravy and stuffin'.
Monique, Monique, Monique, Monique.

She walked to the counter and slapped that plate down.
Monique, Monique, Monique, Monique.
In front of a middle aged guy in a black evening gown.
Monique, Monique, Monique, Monique.

Who looked like he just got through climbing out of a creek.
Monique.

Well she looked over at me and she started to yell
Monique, Monique, Monique, Monique.
She sad "I might not have the highest class clientel."
Monique, Monique, Monique, Monique.

"And this ain't exactly whatcha call haute cuisine."
Monique, Monique, Monique, Monique.
"But I'll cook you a meatloaf like you never seen."
Monique, Monique, Monique, Monique.

And that's when I felt the love of which I speak.
Monique.

Well, Monique, Monique, Monique, Monique.
Monique, Monique, Monique, Monique.

I said Monique, Monique, Monique, Monique.
Monique, Monique, Monique, Monique.

Sing it with me now! Monique, Monique, Monique, Monique!
Monique, Monique, Monique, Monique!

(etc.)

Kurt "big daddy" True
8 january 2004