I was already on my way to work this morning when I realized I was almost out of gas. (Perhaps I should have called Starbucks Girl, eh?
I did what any sane person would do and turned the car completely around so that I could drive out of my way to go to the cheapest of three gas stations in my immediate area. By cheapest, I mean that the Chevron station was $2.69 a gallon, the Mobil was $2.68 a gallon, and the 76 station where I ended up was $2.67 a gallon.
Oh, shut up. I don't want to hear it.
As I pull up to my discount gas station of choice, I'm listening to The Killers. I'm all into it... blasting the music, sunroof open despite the fact that it's 53 degrees outside. He's screaming, Drive faster boooooooooy, and I'm singing along (and also quite possibly driving faster).
Then, as I step out of my car, my ears are ASSAULTED. And when I say ASSAULTED, I mean ASSAULTED...
Did you ever know that you're my heeeero? You're everything I would like tooooo beeee...
Bette fucking Midler. BLASTING from the gas station speakers. And when I say BLASTING, I mean BLASTING.
I'm telling you, my mood went from perky (perky as I get, anyway... I'm not generally an especially perky person) to something worthy of a straight jacket.
I have some to the conclusion that going from listening to The Killers to listening to Bette Midler is bad for your health. For that matter, going from listening to ANYONE to listening to Bette Midler is bad for your health. Seriously. I feel less healthy than I did before I pulled up at that gas station! Like I have redheaded diva cooties or something.
I think the Surgeon General should put a warning on her albums.
WARNING: Listening to this music may cause extreme mental distress and possible delusional behavior. Use caution when listening to this music while operating heavy machinery. Symptoms of mental distress may include dropping to the ground, pulling your knees to your chest and rocking while chanting, "Beaches, Beaches, Beaches, Beaches, Beaches..." or some variation there of. Be aware of possible sudden urges to dye your hair carrot-orange and get a bad perm. Avoid playing this music loudly in the presence of small children.
I'm starting a write-in campaign to ban the playing of Better Midler, Celine Dion, and any other screechy diva you can think of. If you'd like to help put an end to the horror, please write:
PO Box 1267
Ponca City, OK 74602
I will love you forever.
GettingNaked has moved! The new site can be found at gettingnaked.typepad.com. If your browser supports it, you'll be redirected there momentarily!
