Lah dee dah.

Once, when I studied abroad, I went through a really and truly horribly 48 hours when I had nothing by the chorus of Pearl Jam's "Jeremy" in my head. Forty-eight long, long, painful hours. I don't care how hot Eddie Vedder is, that's about 44 hours too long for that song. (True story: an ex once said Vedder was the only dude he'd ever consider sleeping with. Since the chances of that are up there with the chances that I'll be a size 4, I did not feel threatened.)

I share because, well, I always share. And because I thought I'd illuminate how prone I am to brain worm songs. Because of this, my desk mate and I absolutely love to play the obnoxious song game. Mainly, this consists of me saying, "Hey Karen! Guess what song I have in my head?" before she gives me the death glare and puts her hands over her ears. Since I am oh-so-mature, I will often start humming the chorus, she shrieks and then, well, all bets are off because she'll launch a counter attack.

(For the record, there are few songs more obnoxious than Kelis' "Milkshake." "Damn right, it's better than yours!" AHHHHH. And, once, a few months ago, my exceptionally gay hairdresser turned to me mid foil and said "Damn girl, I bet your milk shake DOES bring all the boys to the yard." )

So, needless to say, when someone else in the office started playing Dan Fogelberg's "Leader of the Band" this afternoon, I knew I was totally, completely and 100 percent screwed.



Why they were discussing Fogelberg, who I insisted on calling Dan Fogenfloogie, is beyond me. Although, according to the all-knowing Wikipedia, he was from Peoria. My ears happened to perk up at the wrong time. Which explains why I am now in my jammies, trying to escape the 1981 song.

Le sigh indeed.