Wednesday, August 27, 2003

Gentle readers who have had the grand privilege of sitting in my passenger’s seat probably know that my nerves are a bit, how you say, JANGLED when I drive. There’s just something about inexperience, traffic laws that aren’t conducive to turning left, and those cockmonkey jeep drivers that keep me as high strung as a crackhead in Queens.

Because I need something soothing to listen to, I kept the presets for the classical music stations that my mum had previously selected. This, of course, qualified me a playa hata, so I recently had my stereo presets expertly adjusted to stations slightly hipper. Bad, bad idea. The few hip hop songs I’ve chanced upon have featured some kind gunshot or siren from dem coppaz, all of which sounded frighteningly real at the time.

Hold me, gentle reader.