Thursday, May 10
Bre, in her infinite wisdom and mercy, bought me a radio for my birthday. It may have been a defensive move, as I am prone to singing snippets of the world's most annoying songs. At random. Badly.
It turns out our fabuloso AM station turns to sports in the afternoons come springtime. As Bre has abandoned me in favor of a vacation at the beach, I am indulging in my secret vice. SHHHHHH.....
I listen to country music when no one is looking. (oh, the shame)
I still cannot stand the sappy tearjerker crap, but when my punk-souled partner in crime is away, I will stray to Country or NPR. But sometimes I have to draw the line.
The name of the song that just came on?
I had to ask the other person in the office listening to the station if I had heard that correctly....
Yes, I did.
The song is called....
I'd sure love to check you for ticks.
NPR, here I come.
(that song title may have been funnier with my original typo, I'd sure love to check you for tics. Sung by the kid who wrote the first poem on CRSE's post....)