won't you take me to...hell...

Sunday morning, the boys and I strap into the mini and hit the highway en route to church. The soundtrack for our adventure? Queen's classic turned stadium staple, "We Are The Champions," followed by "Funkytown."

...ah, Lipps Inc., we hardly knew ya...

Anyway, I love these songs. But I love them as performed by their original artists. What I heard on this glorious Sunday morning weren't the classics. No. The former was performed by Crazy Frog, the latter by Alvin and the Chipmunks.

Haven't heard them? Go take a listen. I'll wait.

OK. Glad you're back. What did you think? As an aside, the first one of you who can tell me what that little nubbin of nubbiness is between Crazy Frog's legs wins my 45 single of Funkytown, because the little I can recall from middle school biology? Frogs don't have external nubbins.

My kids think they love this stuff. When I tried to school them on the catchy greatness of the originals (along with the charms of "I Want Candy," "Walkin' On Sunshine," and "Double Dutch Bus" as performed the way nature intended, which wasn't by random child artists, as they were when they were part of the song set on this day), they were all, "You just don't get it, old lady. It's about the music, man!"

Over the "ding a dang dong" chorus of Crazy Frog's "We Are The Champions," I look in the rear view mirror and see my youngest son tossing up the rock hands and thrashing his head along the sides of his booster seat throne, and my oldest encouraging him by lighting up my cell phone and waving it skyward, eyes closed and swaying.

I probably don't "get it," because when I was their age, I was listening to some of the artists I still listen to today. I pray that when my children have children, they don't find themselves in a mini on a Sunday morning, rolling their eyes at some wacky amphibian's musical gold (Nor trying to hide the fact that they are dancing in their seats just a little bit to Alvin and the Chipmunk's Funkytown, which I may or may not have been doing, but whatever, because who are you to judge me, eh?! Tell me right now you're not all "Got a make a move to a town that's right for me...." in your head this very instant!).

While I had no great thoughts about the songs, I did think it was a good thing we were on our way to spend some time with God, because that moment was what I imagine hell to be like.

Hell is a fiery pit of despair, filled with sinners screaming and clawing atop the other, you say? Oh, no. It's a sold out coliseum show headlined by Hannah Montana. Which, OK, I could live with, because I'm not ashamed to say I know the words to G.N.O., which also came on the radio during the trip to church, and if hell is, indeed, a girl's night out, then sign me up. I need one. That right there is the best of both worlds.

Strike that. The best world would be one minus that weird nubbined crazy frog. That, and actually living in Funkytown.