Today, returning to work from my lunch of four-day-old ham and scalloped potatoes, which were surprisingly four times better than when they were when they were fresh, which is saying A LOT because they were delicious way back then but the extra four days allowed the ham to absorb the pineapple juice and the potatoes to somehow get cheesier and more magical.
Crapity. “No blogging about what you ate for lunch” Rule #1. Got it.
Anyway, as I was returning from lunch, I was forced to listen to The Chemical Brothers – Block Rocking Beats, which was actually kind of awesome. When I’m in my car I prefer to be dancing like a 20-year-old at a club. And everyone knows that when a person is inside a car, they miraculously become invisible to the outside world, thanks to the fact that car glass is not see-through. Just ask all those people who pick their noses at stop lights. They know what I’m talking about. Invisibility cloak.
Anyway anyway, so I had to listen to Block Rocking Beats because the other options on my six programmed stations were:
a) John Mayer.
b) John Mayer.
c) dead air.
That’s right. Two stations were playing the same John Mayer song and two stations were playing the same Nickleback song and one was just unnervingly silent. The problem with my five three options are as follows:
John Mayer: I can not listen to this dude without picturing him in a banana hammock. Do Not Want. The image is so disgusting, it’s not even funny. And I find a lot of disgusting things funny, people. But not this. This is a visual assault that will require the invention of Brain Bleach to remove it’s stain from my mind.
Dead Air: I don’t get a whole lot of sleep due to being a light sleeper and neurotic about my kids waking up and the dog licking his privates ETCETERA. So listening to dead air is not conducive to my remaining awake while operating semi-heavy machinery, especially in public places.
The Nickleback: Everytime Nickleback is played, God kills a llama. And I like llamas. They’re cute. I don’t want to be responsible for one dying. I can’t live with that kind of karma looming over my head. So even if my ears didn’t bleed everytime Freddie Chad Kroeger opens his mouth, and they do, I still wouldn’t listen to Nickleback voluntarily because God will kill an innocent llama if I do.