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Whatever, I probably won’t bother since I got this new 45 to go home and listen to. I don’t even know what kind of shit that dude was into. Now hit play below, and be sure and do a good job gluing the penis back onto that statue. "Glycerine Queen"
A place to check out some 45's I've found. You might already know them, maybe you don't. Whatever, they're awesome, and you should give them a listen.
Portland, OR middle school. “Ms. [redacted], what’s on your iPod?” [student thumbs through band names until one catches his eye. Listens.] “These guys aren’t heavy metal.” That’s right, it was a between-class POP QUIZ you little fucker, and guess what? You passed! Ms. [redacted] is just looking out for your future. Too bad she isn’t accepting “I dunno” as an answer to Yeah, but how rad are these guys? on the bonus question (would have accept “pretty rad”, “totally rad”, or a decent rendition of either Beavis' or Butthead's trademarked dance.) Ah well, you’ll do just fine still, just promise you won’t ditch your group to play keyboard for U.F.O. like theirs did.
Hit play below then go ask that girl to the dance - braces means her parents have money.
"She's No Angel"
Remember how I thought that Shari’s down off 405 in my hometown was a Denny’s, and how I always confused the dad from Empty Nest (and also Soap!) with the eagle from the Muppet Show? (hint: Richard Mulligan was white) Well, it shouldn’t come as any surprise that, at one time, this song was incorrectly filed in my brain as Elvis Costello. Whoops. Can you blame me though? You can? Is that what that smirk means? Take it easy on me, I just realized I’m not getting a Stuffed Hashbrown Platter outside the Northwest, that Sam the Eagle probably never lectured Kristy McNichol backstage, from his giant blue perch, about her cocaine use as I’d imagined he would have, and that no one knows what the hell I’m talking about.
But you know. You always do. That’s why you’re going to hit play, below. If you’re curious about the b-side, don’t be.
"Back of My Hand"