Riding in Cars with Girls
August 20th, 2009I don’t have an iPod adapter for my car, so when I’m driving, I’m forced to listen to CDs, and since I haven’t bought a physical CD in years, everything I listen to has been burned from iTunes.
My playlists can generally be broken down into two categories: Angry Thomas and Sentimental Thomas.* Metallica features heavily in my Angry Thomas collection, with special guest appearances by Altered Bridge, Brand New, and a few others. Sentimental Thomas is mostly a collection of Sarah McLachlan songs, with a smattering of other, mostly female, artists.
Anyway, for various reasons, I’ve had a lot of girls in my car lately,** and I’ve witnessed two nearly universal reactions from them. The first is kind of expected, and is usually a riff on the following:
“Is this a CD?”
“Yep.”
“Is it your CD?”
“Uh huh.”
“I… really didn’t expect you to own this CD. I expected more… ‘raaaaaargh.’”
The second reaction, though, is a bit stranger.
One of the songs on the last disc I burned is Kelly Clarkson’s Beautiful Disaster, the live piano version, and you can just shut right up with your snickering. The playlist is called Sentimental Thomas, after all, and if you think that makes me less of a man, come to the gym with me some time and try to finish my warm up. We’ll talk after you’re done vomiting.
Anyway, something very interesting happens when Beautiful Disaster comes on. Whatever conversation we’re having kind of trails off, and the girls, whether there’s one of them or four, become kind of quiet, and get this faraway look in their eyes. And then the chorus starts, and every single one of them, every single one, starts to sing.
Oh and I dooooooon’t know, I don’t know what he’s after, and he’s so beauuuuutiful, he’s such a beautiful disaster.
It doesn’t matter if the girl is the quiet English major type, the quirky artist type, or the punky… punk type, they all do this, at the exact same moment, like they rehearsed it or something. It’s almost eerie. I swear that you could take a CD player to a tribe that’s never even heard English, play this song, and watch the entire female population of the village break out into a melancholy refrain.
A group of friends went out to Wing Night at Cavallo’s on Tuesday night. After convincing the bouncer to let in some of our underage friends,*** we sat down and got to eating. A few minutes later, one of the girls looks over at the wall, gets a confused look on her face, and asks “did they set a world record here or something?” I looked around, confused, and said that I didn’t know. “Then what’s that sign for?” she asked.
The sign? It was for Guinness.
At least I guess I know that I’m the only one endangering their welfare.
Finally, if you’re a female and you’ve hit me within the last week or so, can you remind me why? I distinctly remember getting punched by a girl the other night, and while I can’t remember the context, I bet it’s a really funny story.
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* There is a third category, which I’ve dubbed Holy Thomas, which features a lot of Jason Upton and Hillsong United. This is deeply ironic, since I’m kind of evil.
** The primary reason being I’m a huge stud.
*** I’ve been endangering the welfare of minors since I was a minor.
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