There we were, the wife and I driving down I-65 headed to Marshall County like we do everyday. We were listening to these mix CDs that The School Girl had put together the other day. They contain some Breaking Benjamin, Sugarcult, some other stuff and The Cure. Two out of the three Cure songs she put on there were astonishingly mediocre.
I questioned the fact whether or not she actually listened to the songs prior to burning them. I think her answer was something to the effect that she had listened to the beginning of the songs and thought the music was okay so she added them. Alrighty then. This, of course, instigated another world famous conversation:
me: I’m more efficient at making CDs than you are.
The School Girl: You’re a ‘fishman’?
me: I said ‘I’m EFFICIENT’ not ‘I’m a FISHMAN’. That doesn’t even make sense. Like I’m that guy from the Super Friends or something…what’s his name?
me: Gill.
Oh my God, all I could do was shake my head. Gill. How terribly bad, and amusing. By the way, his name is Aquaman. Okay so anyway, moving on. The further we get into these CDs the more blah the music gets to me. Then out of nowhere this is played:
Oh for the love of all that is sacred. Is this what people call rock and roll? I mean the chick is singing opera for crying out loud! My ears started to bleed. I can’t even think of words that express how much I think this is not good…so I will make one up. Puketressant. Vomitatious. Okay, that was two. Your turn.
By the way, the band is called Nightwish or something retard-o like that. Oh well, sorry to dump on your musical taste babe, I still love you…obviously except for your ear for music.
