And I have several problems.
My main problem is that this song has come to represent an ancient method of telling fun and attractive mates apart from stick-in-the mud fishwives.
But I protest.
I do not like pina coladas. I don't think coconuts should be drunken.
I do not like getting caught in the rain. I like playing in the rain on purpose.
I actually kind of like yoga, but the bikram kind that involves 104 degrees.
I don't have half a brain. I have a whole brain, thankyouverymuch.
I can't imagine doing anything naughty in the dunes of the Cape, because for one thing, I've never been to the Cape, and for another thing, sand? In certain places? SO MUCH NO.
And then she, the personal ad authoress, assumes that anyone who agrees with all her wild assertions will be the perfect person with whom to escape. I mean, a serial killer might very well enjoy all those things. Or an 83-year old hobo. Or Andrew Dice Clay. And then she's stuck with him for at least a trip to Six Flags.
Well, until she gets bored and pens her next personal ad masterpiece without first having a simple conversation with her significant other, that is.
And you get to the guy's answer, and he just agrees with all of it, also citing that he's not into health food. So she's going to meet Triple Bypass at the bar and just trust that he's not an 83-year old serial killing hobo, and they're going to run off? I mean, did they pack first? Or were they going to take two trips? And are they vehemently against umbrellas and galoshes? And what if she's an uggo, and he's not into uggos?
Plus, of course, the fact that they're cheating on each other with each other and therefore can't be trusted. That's the killer bit.
That, and the pina colada thing.
And speaking of which, how have these people been together long enough to get bored with each other and start trolling the personal ads, and yet they've never learned that they are both confessed pina colada addicts?
All I can assume is that they are both imbeciles. If they each have only half a brain, that further proves my theory.
So, just out of curiosity, what would you say if you were rewriting this song to not suck?
And apologies to Rupert, who has an awesome name and arguably originally wrote the first line, "If you like Humphrey Bogart", which I can mostly get behind.