The next American Idol
Quick story. I managed to put in a full 8 to 5 day scouring The Arizona Republic's Career Builder and Monster for jobs yesterday. Didn't turn the tv on once. when five o'clock rolled around I was stir crazy to the point of being jittery. Somehow self-imposed lockdown in your own home is worse than being in a cubicle all day. No coworkers to shoot the shit with I guess.
I had to get out of my apartment. I didn't even care where I was going or what I was going to do. I went out to grab a bite to eat but I didn't have any idea what I wanted. I live within a mile of a major mall so there are roughly 6,000 choices for food. I covered about 8 blocks in nearly 30 minutes before finally ending up at the Panda Express 100 yards from my door.
One of the things that has the ability to give me pure unadulterated joy is singing to the radio. I have found that it is a strange stress reliever. I liken it to primal scream therapy. I turn up the volume and air out my lungs. It's a performance and the driver's seat is my stage. I don't care who sees me do it either. When somebody else catches me doing this I acknowledge them and kick it up a notch.
All of this is to somehow explain what happened next. I was driving back to my apartment thinking about my orange chicken and scanning radio stations. I came across "Girls just wanna have fun". I was considering calling Spicoli and leaving it on his voicemail with the suggestion that he add it to his ipod when, as luck would have it, a car full of teenage girls rolls up driver's side. The little voice in my head immediately said, "This could be fun."
editor's note: My conscience sounds suspiciously like James Earl Jones yet the little devil on my opposite shoulder sounds like the love child of Adam Corrola and Gilbert Godfried.
I tuned to my left and belted out a "They just wanna. They just wannnnaaa!" The girl in the front passenger seat starts cracking up and alerts her friends to the moronic serinade going on next to them. I am looking directly at them singing and girating like I'm gunning for a grammy. they're eating it up. They ask for the station. I tell them. They join in. Alas, the light turned green and our 5 person homage to Cyndi Lauper's feminine anthem could not continue.
What had been an incredibly boring yet strangely stressful day instantly turned around because of one border line retarded act. You know what? I'm not going to try and assign any deeper significance to this. Whatever. This is how I roll. Whatever that means. Airwolf just crested the hill...
I had to get out of my apartment. I didn't even care where I was going or what I was going to do. I went out to grab a bite to eat but I didn't have any idea what I wanted. I live within a mile of a major mall so there are roughly 6,000 choices for food. I covered about 8 blocks in nearly 30 minutes before finally ending up at the Panda Express 100 yards from my door.
One of the things that has the ability to give me pure unadulterated joy is singing to the radio. I have found that it is a strange stress reliever. I liken it to primal scream therapy. I turn up the volume and air out my lungs. It's a performance and the driver's seat is my stage. I don't care who sees me do it either. When somebody else catches me doing this I acknowledge them and kick it up a notch.
All of this is to somehow explain what happened next. I was driving back to my apartment thinking about my orange chicken and scanning radio stations. I came across "Girls just wanna have fun". I was considering calling Spicoli and leaving it on his voicemail with the suggestion that he add it to his ipod when, as luck would have it, a car full of teenage girls rolls up driver's side. The little voice in my head immediately said, "This could be fun."
editor's note: My conscience sounds suspiciously like James Earl Jones yet the little devil on my opposite shoulder sounds like the love child of Adam Corrola and Gilbert Godfried.
I tuned to my left and belted out a "They just wanna. They just wannnnaaa!" The girl in the front passenger seat starts cracking up and alerts her friends to the moronic serinade going on next to them. I am looking directly at them singing and girating like I'm gunning for a grammy. they're eating it up. They ask for the station. I tell them. They join in. Alas, the light turned green and our 5 person homage to Cyndi Lauper's feminine anthem could not continue.
What had been an incredibly boring yet strangely stressful day instantly turned around because of one border line retarded act. You know what? I'm not going to try and assign any deeper significance to this. Whatever. This is how I roll. Whatever that means. Airwolf just crested the hill...
posted by Pudge | 5:02 AM
2 Comments:
that's awesome.
sometimes it's times like those that make everything else ok. :-)
I'm glad you enjoyed it. You should still punch your boss in the mouth.
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