Well, I'm not going to phone the Colonel on the other side of me; he's sort-of (good) humourless at times.
That was an ice cream joke. Yes, it was so a good one.
Babs told me that she had not heard it, but that she thought it probably *was* an ice cream van. So in the spirit of research, I found a few things (1) Music Box Dancer (check out the last paragraph; I did not know that!); (2) This; and (3) This. Maybe the stuff I am working on is really boring, and there's a contrast effect going on, but I am finding this really interesting.
I think I have a new obscure interest that few find interesting in any way, shape, or form. Cool!
And I guess that it was an ice cream van, despite the peculiarity of the day, time, season, and so forth. It figures that my neighbourhood would have The Most Confused Ice Cream Van Driver of All Time.
Okay...I am thisclose to developing a freaky fetish ('cos we all know that many Freaky Fetishes are borne out of a paradoxical reaction to something which is off-putting, where an affinity is developed in a self-preservational sort of way, kind of like desensitisation through repeated exposure, and if we did not know that, well...now we do). I downloaded Lips Stained Blue (Uhhh…yeah, I *am* always gonna pick the goth-sounding one first; get used to it), and Ghetto Ice Cream Truck Song. Then I got up to get a drink, and forgot about the downloads.
LSB finished first when I was in the kitchen, and when it started playing, I nearly *died*. I spun around, dumping my soda on the counter, ready to kick some serious ice cream van ass. I mean, inside of one millisecond I was all jazzed up to administer a severe motherfucking beating to whatever was making that sound.
Yes, this is why ‘Codia doesn’t go into haunted houses at Halloween: people who jump out at her get hit. Hard. People who sneak up behind her get hit. Hard. Do not startle the ‘Codia; it reacts poorly, even to the point where it will attempt to kick the ass of an ice cream van.
It took me a second to realise what it was; after I got over the adrenaline rush-induced swoon, I damn near wet myself laughing. I am *such* a doof! What flavour of imbecile cannot hold what they are downloading in their head for two minutes?
Uhhh, that would be *me*.
Weebie (who always follows me into the kitchen in the hopes of a handout) just looked at me as if she were saying, ‘I’m really sorry that you have so many mental problems. How about some tuna?’
And I now think ice cream van songs are cool as hell. Out of context, they sound freaky and strange.
Okay—now I *REALLY* have to quit screwing around and get back to work.