Friday, May 20, 2005
Friday Random None
The MP3 player is at home. I have no random selection to offer you. Amuse yourselves as you see fit.
Although I do have this musical tid bit to offer: I rode with The Girl to her office this morning, in order to then catch a bus from down the road and into Watertown, from where I could walk up to my office. The initial catching the bus part of the plan went a little long, as there was some sort of problem with the earlier buses, and I ended up reading at the bus stop for over an hour. But that's not the musical tidbit.
The Girl had her Dell DJ on random, and just as we were exiting 128, a very familiar beat came on. My toes started tapping, my head started bopping, and I stunned and amazed The Girl with my thorough knowledge of Jim Croce's You Don't Mess Around With Jim. Yes, I know all the lyrics, all the nuanced scat sections. I've got it down and I'm not afraid to sing it. I attribute this to a childhood spent riding around in the VW Bug of my sister who's ten years older than me, listening to all her cassettes, and this was one of her favorites. One measure of an intro beat, and it all comes flying back from the recesses of my linguistic foundations. Resistance is futile.
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Although I do have this musical tid bit to offer: I rode with The Girl to her office this morning, in order to then catch a bus from down the road and into Watertown, from where I could walk up to my office. The initial catching the bus part of the plan went a little long, as there was some sort of problem with the earlier buses, and I ended up reading at the bus stop for over an hour. But that's not the musical tidbit.
The Girl had her Dell DJ on random, and just as we were exiting 128, a very familiar beat came on. My toes started tapping, my head started bopping, and I stunned and amazed The Girl with my thorough knowledge of Jim Croce's You Don't Mess Around With Jim. Yes, I know all the lyrics, all the nuanced scat sections. I've got it down and I'm not afraid to sing it. I attribute this to a childhood spent riding around in the VW Bug of my sister who's ten years older than me, listening to all her cassettes, and this was one of her favorites. One measure of an intro beat, and it all comes flying back from the recesses of my linguistic foundations. Resistance is futile.
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Posted by Rogueslayer at 9:28 AM 
