Yes, this is the post that has the profanity. It is not my profanity. (That would be this post.)
Yesterday, as I drove to Mom's to pick her up for a visit to the physical therapist, I popped in my Ben Folds CD, "Rockin' the Suburbs." I sang lustily along with my favorite track, "Still Fighting It."
As I neared Mom's house, I jumped ahead to track 10, "Rockin' the Suburbs." I wanted to hear it, plus, I didn't want it to come up when Mom was in the car. I'm not a delicate flower, but now that Mom is a dowager she likes to lecture me about the salty language I have adopted in my middle age.
I'm always careful about my CD selections since that time I chauffeured a ten year old girl to the tune of Liz Phair singing the praises of men's ejaculate. I try to give Mom something a little soothing to listen to, especially since she once requested "something without drums" instead of BNL.
That is why I opted for Ben Folds, and since I didn't want to sit in awkward silence while Ben screamed "FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKKKK," I jumped to track 11.
Sure, that would have worked great if the PT had been close to home, but as it turned out the CD looped back to "Rockin' the Suburbs" just as we exited the highway by her home. I hadn't paid attention until he rocked out:
...It's a bitch, if you don't believe
Listen up to my new CD
Great, I thought, I could have jumped to the next track if I'd been paying attention. Well, there's nothing to do now except distract her.
...I got shit runnin' through my brain
It's so intense that I can't explain
Goddamnit! Think fast! "So! Did I tell you the relatives are contesting the will?" I chirped.
"Yes, you mentioned that," Mom said smoothly.
"That some producer with computers fixes all my shitty tracks!" Ben screamed.
God FUCKING Damnit! Wait...there's a break before he starts screaming "FUUUUUUUUUCCCCK!" Mom and I sat in silence while I searched for something to say.
Mom broke the silence. "What was that?"
"What was that line about slaves?"
"Oh, great. You're actually listening to this song. THIS song." Mom has only made two comments on the music in my car: 1) Born On a Pirate Ship? Too many drums. 2) The bridge to Running Out of Ink is beautiful, obviously sung by a group far superior to that Barenaked Ladies band I am so partial to.
"But what was that line?"
"Um, I think Cause my great great great great Grandad /Made someone's great great great great Grandaddies slaves."
"Oh. Is that Barenaked Ladies?"
"It gets me real pissed off, it makes me wanna say - " Ben screamed.
"It gets me real pissed off and it makes me wanna say - " Ben screamed. Shut up Ben!
I blurted, "Uh - this is really funny song! There are these lyrics about Michael Jackson being talented," I shouted over the last chorus of It gets me real pissed off and it makes me wanna say -"
"FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!" Ben screamed, just in time for Mom to consider a response.
I would say "Fuck" but Mom really doesn't like that word.