Horrible, Horrific, and Horrendous OR How Radio Rage Made My Head Pop Off

Before I begin this post about my day yesterday, I feel I must share something with you all. I saw something today, at a family function no less, that I thought had been completely eradicated from the planet. Do you know what it was? Take a breath. It was a tail. A rat tail. A rat tail growing from the hair of a grown ass man. I know. But here is where it goes from alarming to downright wrong and incorrect. The tail, if you're going to do it right, we all know, belongs in the middle of your neck so that it looks accurately enough like its rodent cousin. This one? Is being grown off of the right side of this poor soul's neck. Do you understand me? Picture a rat ass that is equivalent in size to a skinny man's head, then move the tail approximately four inches to the right. Now go take a minute to throw up before you read the rest of this post if you need to. I'm sorry to burden you all with such a picture but I can't live this alone any longer.

Anyway, yesterday is what I meant to write about originally, and now I shall. Yesterday was the day that the radio decided it hated me. Now, normally Radio and I get along swimmingly. Just the other day I was feeling particularly blue and not once but twice did Radio play Maroon 5's "Sunday Morning" followed by Peter Gabriel's "In Your Eyes," which are two songs that make me very very happy. Good job, Radio!

The fact that Radio and I were such good friends made what happened yesterday all the more troubling. On my way to the mall (by the way, I fucking hate the mall when I am not the almost only person in it) to pick up my dad's birthday gifts for my mom (see how I'm being nice and doing things for others?) the first song that came on was, "She's Gone," I believe by Hall and Oates, or maybe just one of them. As the song went on I began to understand exactly why She had left and I sort of wished I could shake her hand. So, I flip to another station where I stumble across the one-hit-wonder of the now-defunct (or they should be) hair band Mr. Big. That band, if you recall was made of band members of hair bands that had gone defunct before the five minute hair band craze had even ended! That's how good they are. That song I believe is called, "To Be With You." I don't want them to be with you. Please send them away.

Things spiraled downward from there and every song that came after was equally horrible if not worse. I heard the Beach Boys. I heard some song that I cannot believe I am forgetting right now because I remember thinking as I was listening to it, "Oh look, it's the song that every person on every talent show ever ever sang."

I not only heard "Caribbean Queen" by Billy Ocean, I heard, and I still am stunned by this, "Forever Your Girl," by Paula Abdul. Did you hear me? Paula. Ab. DUL!!!!! Are you kidding me? I thought we all agreed that we would allow her her little comeback if she agreed never Never NEVER to sing again and would remove all her old songs from the public arena.

That means I heard not one but two songs by people who did music videos with cartoon characters. That is wrong wrong wrong and bad and wrong. Granted neither of those two songs were the cartoon songs (why do I know that? I don't know! But I'm already upset about it so leave me alone already!) but still, I was very upset by the whole debacle. Paula Abdul? Did you see her on The Daily Show a few weeks ago? She could not have been more coked up if she was Boy George at Live Aid (those of you who saw his stirring Behind the Music will know what I'm referring to there...although the rest of you can probably figure it out if you've ever, you know, seen him).

As I am driving through this horrendousness on my way to the horrific place of shopping gratuitousness, I think to myself, "The only thing that could make this worse is if that damn Avril Lavigne starts singing." Next thing I hear? "Oh-oh, oh-oh, so much for my happy ending."

And then my head exploded.