I was on my way to Barnes and Noble this morning in a desperate attempt to focus on my To Do List when I realized I was singing along to some teeny-bopper ear worm. How old do I sound right now?
Anyway, it was some totally bouncy thing that I KNOW we don’t own because all of the music in the house is stored on my laptop. I mean, really, you never know when I’m going to want to break out into something from High School Musical 3. OK, really, I just wasn’t paying for the crap more than once, so we have one iTunes account, and everything is on my iPod, iPhone and iEverything else I can buy.
Just remember that if you ever pick up my iWhatever and start looking at the play lists. It’s not a reflection on me. I’m the one who always has her iPod in the car, so everything is there.
How do I know the words to this song? And even though it turned out that this was not One Direction (I know ’cause it’s STILL in my head so I just typed in the lyrics – God Bless free Wi-Fi), earlier this summer when we visited Scout Son at Boy Scout Camp (I went three weeks without my parents each summer, why can’t Scouts go more than 3 days), the older Scouts did this skit with a One Direction song.
My ex about fell off of his log bench when he saw me singing and bopping along. And once again, I stared at him and sang, I have no idea how I know the words to this song. But. I. Do.
I blame One Direction Gremlins. I firmly believe they’re the reason I can’t sleep at night these days. They’re also the reason I can’t have any rational conversation. My brain cells that once held the Pythagorean theorem are slowing being reprogrammed with “Baby you light up my world like nobody else.”
Really?!!? Grumble. I was that young once.
So now I’m sitting at B&N with my computer getting some work done because Kelly and Michael, and Hoda and Kathy Lee have all invaded my Living Room (aka the Office) and who the hell invited them anyway? What? There’s an OFF button on the remote? But then who would I talk to.
I turned them on because I feed off of noise and after I left the day job I needed to find out what the heck everybody else cared about when they didn’t spend 12 hours at work/commuting. Well, I’ve officially hit my capacity for pop culture. It happened when I wanted a weather report this morning and got the damn Oscar nominations. Because this is somehow news, but how cold it isn’t going to be today, isn’t. At least at B&N I can eavesdrop, which for a fiction writer, is the equivalent of research. And doesn’t that sound much nicer?
Anyway, if I stayed home, I was going to pick up a paintbrush instead of designing a website, so here I am. At B&N wondering if the not so hot guy at the other table is really the pretty hot guy from match.com that said he’s always here. If so, he touched up that photo. Not that THAT ever happens online. But he took the time to finish his profile and all I do is see if there’s anyone that interests me enough to start my profile, so kudos to him.
Sadly, the conversation next to me is an elderly woman and her caretaker talking about cat behavior. Really, if I’d wanted that I would have stayed home and watched my three taunt the dog. I may have to move to a different table. Because the characters I’m working on right now don’t have a cat.