integrity sprains take awhile to heal

Dirty Dancing* is so deep in the middle of nowhere that there isn't any cell phone reception (not that this is a problem for me; see previous entry). And it's so far north that the radio stations are all French-Canadian talk shows. Having the only music that I'd hear all week be from the six piece orchestra in the ballroom right underneath my room, instead of the incessant overplaying of Coldplay and Gwen Stefani, was always just another tiny detail of being up there that made it unique and lovable.

There was one show that my bedside radio could pick up now and then, and sometimes it would be on when I came back to my room for the night. For years, that was the only time that I ever heard the show, so I had this sweet little association. Lately I've heard it around these parts occasionally when I'm flipping the dial in my car on a random evening, which is so wrong... where's my big soft bed with the covers turned down, summer night, windows open, and the music drifting in from downstairs where people are still dancing?

Well, it turns out the show is Radio Delilah, and let's just say that hearing it in my car on a Tuesday night when I'm not on vacation causes it to lose everything that I once found endearing about it. Her tagline is "looove someone tonight," which is sung, naturally. A typical call: "Hahhh, Delilah. I laav your show. I have a problem, mah boyfriend and I had a faat, and he thinks ahh don't laav him, but ahh doo." Needless to say, she has a lot of Southern listeners. In fact, I'm sure they block Northeasterners from their switchboard altogether to avoid the rasied eyebrow snarkiness that we cold weather folk bring to the table. We may not prolong our vowels, but we can always be counted on to destroy pretty much anything that is still remotely pure and good and hopeful. (Incidentally, I simultaneously love and hate this, but that's a whole other can of worms.)

I caught part of the show tonight. Someone called up with a problem, and it became abundantly clear to me why Delilah has a nationally syndicated call-in advice radio show and I don't.

Suzy: Hahhh Delilah. This is Suzy.
Deliliah: Hi, Suzy. Who are you thinking about tonight? Who's on your mind? Who's left footprints on your heart?
Me: Hahhh Crazy.

Suzy: Ahh'm thinking about mah husband. Ahh did something wrong and ahh hate that I hurt him.
Delilah: What was it you did that caused his heart to ache, Suzy?
Me: Yeah, Suze, details.

Suzy: Well, ahh just realized that you never know how much ahh man's integrity means until you accidentally do something to hurt it.
Delilah: And what happened to injure your beloved's integrity?
Me: Huh?

Suzy: Ahh had only the best intentions but ahh'm afraid that I hurt his integrity and men can have such a hard time expressing their thoughts.
Delilah: I see. And you want nothing more than to regain his trust and true love?
Me: Huh?

Suzy: Ahh'm hoping you can play a song to let him know how I feel.
Delilah: Of course I will. I have just the song.
Me: Why don't you just call him and apologize, genius?

Delilah: And remember that God has a plan for you, Suzy, and if this is meant to work out then it will. You are worthy of love and happiness and all the best things in life.
Suzy: Thankuuue, Delilah. Thankuuue you so much.
Me: Who are you kidding, Delilah? You biblical whore.

I know, I'm going to hell. But have you heard this show? Because, really, you gotta. Or, actually, don't. Just find a friend, play a game of "who had the worst day" and crank the Celine Dion.

*The place I've spent a week every summer with my family since I was six. I sort of enjoy the pointlessness of calling it by its nickname but still including a link to the actual site. But see, they changed management, fired a lot of my friends, and eliminated the afternoon wine tastings, so I really have no loyalty anymore.