"It starts with an 'A'
Aardvark! Aardvark!
And ends with a 'K',
Aardvark! Aardvark!"
The song's supposed to be to the tune of the Blue Danube Waltz, but most of us were giggling so hard we couldn't carry a tune.
"Not easy to say
Aardvark! Aardvark!
But try anyway
Aardvark! Aardvark!"
We were all supposed to be going out to dinner; Joe had gone upstairs to wake his girlfriend Tessa from her nap. Five minutes later, the ceiling of the old house started to creak. Rhythmically.
They were up there aardvarking! Right after Joe had made us promise to wait for them!
We were hungry. We were faced with a decision: hie our hungry selves to the restaurant and leave the lovers behind, or figure out a way to get them dressed and downstairs?
In lieu of going upstairs and pounding on their door, Steph started singing "The Aardvark Song", which she'd learned at girl scout camp when she was a child. Soon, we were all singing it at the top of our lungs. Our serenade was probably less subtle than knocking down their door.
"It eats ants all day
Aardvark! Aardvark!
At rest and at play
Aardvark! Aardvark!"
I suspect it was Joe Bob Briggs who first popularized the use of "aardvarking" as a euphemism for fooling around. He certainly uses it with great frequency in his humorous reviews of schlocky horror flicks. The term most obviously implies the impressive sucking tongue action the ant-eating aardvark is known for. It also has a certain onomatopoeia to it. If you have a certain twist to your mind, you can perhaps imagine someone in the throes of ecstasy: "Aard ... vark! Aard! Vark! AARD! VARK!"
And, of course, it's a very, very silly term for what is often a silly-looking activity.
"It's spelled in this way:
Double A, R-D-V-A-R-K
Aardvark! Aardvark!"
We only had to go through the song twice before Joe and Tessa hurried downstairs, red-faced but smiling.
