It’s happened to you. Come on. Admit it. You’re in the car, listening to a song. You tap your foot and bump the steering wheel. You think to yourself after the song is over, “That was a pretty good song. It’s cheesy, but whatever.”
You make a stop and you’re humming the tune.
Later on, you’re on your way home from the grocery store, the song comes on again (thanks ASCAP). You turn up the volume. You mumble hum a couple lyrics you remember. You think to yourself, “Man, I think I really like this song.”
After the song ends, the DJ comes on and says, “You gotta love that new one from Miley Cyrus!”
Deflated fart.
For real?
DAMN YOU MILEY CYRUS!!!
I don’t know whether to rip out the stereo, throw it on the pavement and bludgeon it with a sledgehammer or to call my 8-year old niece and say, “Hey! How’s it hangin’ or whatever you kids say [short pause] Okay ‘SUP!’ Hey, Anyway, it’s me. Your uncle Jer. Just wanted to let you know, you and I have something in common. Guess what it is [pause]. Nope. Guess again. [pause] Um, no I stand to pee. One more guess [pause]. Yes, we both love and adore Miley Cyrus and have plastered her posters and magazine cut outs all over our rooms!!!”
[Insert high-pitched girly Michael Jackson squeal fest]
Then we’d join hands through the phone and sing, “… and the Jay Z song was on … and the Jay Z song was on.”
Should we turn Tina on to Zack Efron, the apocalypse is truly nigh.
Did you think “Mister Bait” was going to mean another “Maturbation” story. Gotcha!
Honk.
I know. I lost cool points with you. Whatever. Go turn on your glory day song oldie that I don’t like and would make fun of if I heard it on your stereo, jerk. I can fall for the media circus once in a while. Tina would tell you that happens more often than she’d like. I unabashedly love top-forty hip hop. I am secretly a 12-year old girl in a 34 year old male body.
Shhhhh, don’t tell any body.
If you’re so inclined, I’m posting the video below the fold.
Le Café Wittypoots 