Pandagon :: Friday Random Ten “No Way Do I Secretly Like That ...
Today, before we all hit “shamble” on our iPods, computers, or whatever gubbins we have for playing MP3s, and beadroll the first ten tracks that go up, I pine for to talk about the mortifying mess that is so humiliating, so covert, and yet so vulgar. No, not back acne. That makes you a abnormal. I get over shit that sneaks into your MP3 amassment.
We’ve all had it materialize. You’re sitting around, listening to your iPod on “quibble”, enjoying the fair sounds of Cibo Matto, the Stand firm Sweetheart, and Le Tigre, when all of a unexpected a flap by John Mayer pops in. Or Phish. (For eg. I’m not about to narrate you what tragedies have popped up on my iPod.) You rip the headphones off, or perhaps botch to prance the melody before the suck leaks in and takes refrain from of your intellectual, and there’s only one uncertainty that pops to your lips: “How’d that get on there?”
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