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Never, Ever Ask My Opinion on Music.

May 11, 2011

I was a weird kid. My imagination was excessive. My hair was long and rarely brushed. (Blame my mother…maybe… Ok, fine, I was very “tender headed” as a child and refused to brush my hair… Pretty much ever. My brother refers to it as my witch-hair.)

See? Look how scraggly. I wasn't lying.

(Sidenote: Just take a gander at my brother’s hair. Did the barber just place a bowl on his head and snip straight across? I mean, that hairline could be used in the place of an actual level! “Jason, come here, I want to hang this picture straight… Stand reeeal still.” Apparently, we both had hair issues.)

But I’m not here to talk about my tangled mess of hair. Or my brother’s bowl cut*. (Just take one more look… It looks like a mushroom. Ok, I’m done.)  I’m here to discuss how my weirdness as a child gave me no grasp whatsoever on what was cool as a high schooler and even into college. SHAME.

However, I only happened upon this discovery because of a handy little Gchat conversation the other day with Sarah. I was trying to remember a song (Ghetto Superstar by Mya and Old Dirty Bastard, in case you were curious) and she said, “Do you remember how we used to like some song from the Rugrats movie?”

And this is where the proverbial record player comes to a screeching halt.

RUGRATS. As in the Nickelodeon cartoon that they turned into a movie. As in the animated feature flick about babies. As in, what the hell, Mase? Why would you lead me down such a path? Why would you make me think that it was cool to like such a song? I realize that I had a thing for your music in the late 90s so of COURSE I was going to think this was cool.

I’m seriously almost embarrassed admitting this. At least I wasn’t alone, as I pulled up to the dorms in my white Ford Probe with the tinted out windows blaring this from the speakers. At least I have a fellow nerd to be embarrassed right along with me.

So, with that, I leave you with the moral of the story: If I think a song is cool, I’m wrong. Just go ahead and be secure in the fact that you cannot depend on me for good music of any sort. I have terrible taste. Just awful. I have no way of gauging what is cool. That part of my brain doesn’t work. If you can handle that, and my extreme love of stupid cat pictures, then we can be friends. Otherwise, I’m probably not your type.

*I like how I just ignored the fact that my brother is wearing a karate suit and posing with a fake karate move as I stand there in pajamas. WHAT TIME WERE HIS KARATE LESSONS???

2 Comments leave one →
  1. May 11, 2011 10:06 am

    Not that we haven’t already firmly established that we make awesome Twitter friends, but now we can seal the deal on our real-life friendship as well. I also completely suck at knowing which music is cool. I once tried to flirt with a guy in college by telling him my favorite singer was the Sting, the lead singer in the group Boston. Because you know, it’s easy to get that sort of thing mixed up.

    • May 11, 2011 10:25 am

      THE Sting.

      THE Sting, Christina.

      Oh man… you and me… Like *THIS* {insert finger twist there}

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