True Story©… Ear Wormin’
Last time I
looked, the music on my big desktop could play for 68 days nonstop without
playing the same song twice. That was a
couple of months ago, before I noticed some files – basically any artist whose
name starts with the letter ‘G’ – had copied wrong and had to RE-add them from
I still have a gamut I run every other Saturday or so where new music is acquired as well. It’s on the big computer so I get something good going in the home gym without having to use my headphones. Music frames a large portion of my day-to-day.
I say that to say
that whenever someone sees me out, there is probably a (not exactly-) random
song bouncing around in my head.
… or a dog, but never mind that.
Never mind that
though. Well, consider it but don’t
focus too much on it.
My world remains tied to the things I enjoy, that I am responsible for, that are good to me and that there remains some mutual love for. Most other shit, I am usually trying to actively avoid dealing with and working to shorten interactions with. It is incensing to be forced to remain in one such an interaction when it is not interesting me and I tend to sometimes act out.
Are y’all familiar with the concept
of an ear worm? By definition, it is a
song that you hear and it gets stuck inside of your head for hours, days,
forever. It is why Rick-Rolling is a
Well when I am cornered into a conversation beyond the time constraints of what my proud weirdo brain will allow me to remain in, I tend to kinda bust out into a song. Not for anything other than to punish the offending party for eating up too much of my time.
My birthday is in two days and my family has been known for having these big bangin’-ass cookouts on the closest Saturday to our (me, my twin, our brother in law and a cousin when he can make it in town) birthday. As a matter of necessity – mainly being that leaving my neighborhood tends to cost me at least $50 a fuckin’ trip here lately – have spent the most of the month of June no further from my house than I can walk and be back in an hour, but I had to go to The Walmarks™ for supplies on Monday and ran into an old friend from school.
Me: “What’s good man?”
Friend: “Chillin’ chillin’… What’s been up with you?”
Me: “Not a lot, working and staying safe.”
Friend: “I see you been doing them yards on FaceBook.”
Me: “Yeah, that’s part of the the ‘working’ part, side hustling.”
Friend: “W-wait… Y’all got a birthday coming up right?”
Me: “This Saturday, yep.”
Friend: “Y’all ain’t having that big party like y’all do every year?”
Let me break in
for a second here… I decided this year
that after almost 20 years of this cookout and understanding what it costs to
provide food and alcohol to 50-75 people, not to mention cleaning up after that shit
the next day – you get it…
I say that to say that if he sees the yards I cut on FB, then he sees the event I created inviting people to come hang out with me on Saturday. I planned a whole itinerary and made the post/event open for all of my connected friends and invitees to see. I know it worked because at least two people signed on to come and hang before I even got to their names on my friends list to invite them. Needless to say, to be forced to repeat this shit is frustrating, so it is time to lean on an old tried-and-true…
Me (humming, almost mumbling): “It’s the Final Countdown!”
Me: “My bad, man, that song been stuck in my head all day. But nah, we going different directions this year, no big cookout.”
Me: “Check, I need to get this ice cream home before it melts and my wife beats me”
Friend: “Haha, aight man you be easy.”
Me: “You do the same.”
As I walked off, I heard him humming the keyboard riff to Europe’s The Final Countdown. While yes, the song was in my head fighting for this man’s attention at the moment, my random blurtation (<-- new word, y’all!) was clearly on purpose and clearly done with the intent of sharing my annoyance to shorten the interaction.
Beware, ladies and
gentlefolk… I MIGHT break out into song
in the middle of a conversation with you.
That song may or not be designed to be stuck in your head for the
remainder of an undetermined period of time, and I may have done all of that on
purpose just to fuck with you. I have a metrick shit ton of ammo for said assaults, as mentioned back at the beginning there.
Will I ever actually TELL you why? Hell no!
I may or not have just gotten the song stuck inside your head now. You're welcome!