image stolen from musicblogfunpartytime.wordpress.com
Let me pitch you an idea.
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We’ve set a date. Your doorbell rings. It’s me. I am dressed nicely. Perhaps holding a bouquet. Peonies– nothing too suggestive. You approve of my shoes. You’re like “Hi!” And I’m like:
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(BEGINS BEATBOXING “TOM SAWYER” AT INCREDIBLE VOLUME, ROCKING OUT LIKE AN ASTEROID IS ABOUT TO HIT THE EARTH AND PERFECTLY– I MEAN *PERFECTLY*– PANTOMIMING NEIL PEART’S FILLS)
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And you’re like “wow, that’s pretty impressive! Would you like to come i–” and I’m like:
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(VOCALS KICK IN AND I JUST GO OFF IN GEDDY LEE’S CANADIAN GRANNY VOICE “MODUHN DAY WARRIUH MEAN MEAN STRIIIIIIIIDE….” MEANWHILE I AM STILL PERFECTLY PANTOMIMING THE DRUMS)
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And you’re like “holy shit, you’re really good at that, should we get goin–” and I’m like
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(DUH NUH NUH NAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH AND I JUST KEEP GOING THROUGH AN EXTENDED SYNTH SOLO AND ETC. You get the idea. Meanwhile the neighbors have come out and you’re maybe a little apprehensive but also, you can’t resist feeling the music in your bones. Beginning to move. Shake your head. Dance in the only awkward way it is possible to dance to Rush. When it finally ends you are exhausted. Dripping with sweat. Spent. But changed. From this moment you will live each day as though it were you last.)
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The song finishes. I hand you the peonies. Turn around and leave silently.
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How about it.
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How about it.
delicioustacos 