Right now, all I can hear is a poor man's rendition of "Smoke On The Water" intermingled with a drum solo by Animal of The Muppets. I'm convinced. It can be a sunny Saturday afternoon, 9pm on a Friday, or my personal favorite, 3 am on a Tuesday morning and the "music" never dies. After several hours of this racket, when I'm full of violent rage, I'm tempted to go upstairs and give the noisy boys that live above me a piece of my fist.
Then I realize that I'm in pajamas, it's chilly out, I can't locate any shoes within a reasonable distance, I have no makeup on and my hair is up in a ponytail like Cindy Lou Who - this combination will in no way convince the opposite sex to do ANYTHING. Yes, I'm going to use my God-given, womanly charms and possibly some homemade cookies to sway them to give up music and video games and join monk hood. I don't care if they're playing Christmas carols for orphans, I will personally remove every single one of their fingers to get the music to stop.
Although, I wouldn't be surprised to walk over there and find that they've been reenacting every scene from Blackhawk Down. Or they're peg-legged and blind while trying to play Dance Dance Revolution and Rock Band at the same time. I could go on. And I will, it sounds like they're doing this. Yes, I've seen every episode of Friends, so the amount of correlations shouldn't surprise you.
Once upon a time, I told everyone to rejoice because I had purchased a TomTom and would never again get lost in downtown Dallas/Austin/Houston/my own neighborhood again. After many unfortunate car rides and one particular call to my father from the corner of Malcom X Blvd and MLK Ave. in downtown Dallas, I retract that statement of celebration towards TomTom and the feeling of hope that it so wrongfully gave me. First of all, there really needs to be an "Avoid Ghetto Route" option. Secondly, I'd like it if TomTom had the decency to tell me when it was going to wimp out and stop holding a charge so I can NOT be directionless while traveling through what can only be described as scenes from The Warriors. I could be driving through Munchkin Land and TomTom would find a way to lead me down the most dimly lit, sketch back alleyway with crack whores and gangsters.
I finally got tired of yelling at TomTom and throwing it into the backseat of my car, so 2 years and 4 TomTom's later... I traded in for a Garmin. GPS systems are entirely too cheeky for their own good. So here we are, Garmin is chilling out max with me in the car, and for the sake of setting the HOME feature, I type in my address... I type in my address... I AM typing in MY address, right?! I'm now yelling at my Garmin, Judy Garmin, and it has the nerve to tell me that my home address doesn't exist. Simply nonexistent. I either live in The Twilight Zone or the end of the world is upon us.
When the World Ends by Dave Matthews Band I guess I should hate this song after all these years... but I don't.