If there's one thing that my husband and I don't argue about on a daily basis (His obsession with golf shirts -- eep, a Moroccan themed bedroom -- double eep), it's music. Sure we've got our own personal tastes. He tries to convince me of intrinsic musical value of "traditional irish music," like some guy singing about wearing no underpants has some higher meaning. And I continue to explain to him that while I don't listen to the Dixie Chicks, I still think they are three very talented girls -- although I admit the little
[yeller] singing one does sort of resemble Jack Black with a southern accent.
So, when out of the goodness of his [
cheap ass] heart he offered to load up all his downloaded music onto my new iPhone so I could actually listen to music during the day, I had absolutely no qualms.
Now don't get me wrong. Letting someone else put their music on your mp3 player is pretty damn brave. It's one thing to pick a song on a juke box or request something from the DJ because when it comes down to it, if you happen to like Stacey Q. and her one song and her kinky blonde hair atop her size -2 body, you can always just stop the urge to sing along and point the blame on some other poor unsuspecting soul.
"I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I. I need you."
But my husband has really great taste in music. He listens to all the local college alternative stations and writes down new music to download by groups whose names are rashes or shirt patterns on scraps of paper that I get to fish out of the washer in small tiny bits. So not only would I be getting some great music, but chances are I'd be upping my cool factor as well, you know, just in case I find my large pregnant ass and two children in a situation where I'd need to discuss some obscure song.
And not surprisingly, he didn't disappoint.
That was until I hit what could only be described as "My Husband Dancing With Light Sticks at Some Bad Club in 1996."
There it was. In all its ass bumping, arm pumping, female voice singing about who knows what because who the hell cares we're drunk and dancing with light sticks MUTHAFUCKAS! song.
It's the bastard iPod song that everyone has. The one song that you just fucking love for whatever reason. And the one song you do not want anyone to know that you actually know every single word of -- that is if it's possible to sing along to some dj's club remix of a remix of some crappy European song.
Of course, I shouldn't talk considering I can sing all parts (including rapper and Female "Hook" singer) to Good Vibrations by Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch. If you don't believe me, just ask all the poor souls who listened to me sing it a few months back.
And I was stone cold sober.
What's your bastard iPod/mp3 song? C'mon, spill it.