When I was a kid, “personalized” shizz was really popular. Personalized keychains, personalized bookmarks, personalized license plates for your bike, personalized shoelaces for your sneakers. It wasn’t personally personalized just for you, of course. You bought the stuff ready-made in the drugstore or Caldor or another place like that. I was always very hurt when there wasn’t a “Wendy” item on the racks. It wasn’t a common enough name to be there consistently.
I wonder what has happened to the personalized tchotchke business, what with people giving their children names like Pilot Inspektor, Moxie CrimeFighter and Erie Lackawanna. (That last one is actually the name of a railway, but I always thought it would make a good baby name.) I wonder if the tchotchke people still think Wendy is so outlandish and rare.
In addition to a dearth of keychains, there aren’t many well-known songs that mention a “Wendy.” (For the last time, “Windy” by the Association doesn’t count!) Jenny gets her name AND phone number in a song title, and I get a tiny mention from Bruce Springsteen? Unfair. Anyway, I think it’s morbidly amusing that a rare Wendy song — “Tomorrow, Wendy” by Concrete Blonde — is one of the most depressing songs in the world. Here it is. I’d say, “Enjoy!” but that might be impossible. How about: “Listen as long as you can bear it but if you feel suicidal, stop immediately.”
There’s no video, just audio.
UPDATED TO ADD: Gorgeous blogger Jennine points out that I left out the super-obvious “Wendy” by the Beach Boys, which I think I tend to block from my consciousness because my name sounds so ridiculous in Beach Boy harmony. But here it is. Consider it the antidote to the Concrete Blonde song.