Thursday, 25 March 2010

To the thirty-something blond on the bus

If you had glanced over your left shoulder while riding into town in the bus this morning, you might have seen me. I was mouthing lyrics and you would have known right away what I was lip-syncing because they were blasting into your ears at the time:

They call me "girl"
They call me Stacy
They call me "her"
They call me Jane

That's not my name
That's not my name
That's not my name....

And if you had caught my eye, I might have said: "So.... you like the Ting Tings?"
Except you wouldn't have heard me. Because the song was systematically destroying the hair cells in your inner ear.

Listen, sweetie (except you can't, of course), what does it tell you if I'm able to not only make out the song to which you're listening on your orange iPod, but also the lyrics?


ptooie said...

I didn't wise up (or start caring, I suppose) until I had my daughters... now I keep the music down.
Though I noticed, now that I'm promoted and sitting in an office, I can hear the manager's music through the walls... can't quite make out who/what it is, but I sure get the rhythm.

Persephone said...

You can hear the manager's music through the walls? How does she get any work done? I find I can only do "thinking work" with classical music as an accompaniment. Anything relatively mindless (transcribing or housework) I can manage with a beat. Maybe your manager is doing the mindless stuff?