Running Commentary

I have long known and accepted that my PlayList is possessed with some degree of intelligence, much like my satchel that can open child-proof pill bottles and my wireless adapter that sometimes responds positively to threats and/or baby talk. It's part of the reason I like naming inanimate/semi-inanimate objects.

But now... now my PlayList has deviated from the usual tongue-in-cheek commentary and evolved to the point of all-out snark.

I'm studying. Finals week starts tomorrow. I have three exams, a term paper, and the dawning of three weeks of 7.5 hours a day of new job training. I'm slogging through Camus' The Outsider (or instert your own translated title here), with Sartre, Neruda, Marquez, et al waiting in my Norton Anthology. It's an utterly gorgeous day outside, the sun is beaming in, and I'm stuck inside, guzzling tea in vain attempts to concentrate on existentialism.

PlayList: Dr. Alban - I Like To Move It!

I glare. Bugger made me lost my place. I drink half my tea and try to find it again.

PlayList: Moody Blues - I Know You're Out There Somewhere!

I glare some more. Distractions like this aren't very productive when there's less than six hours left in the day and you already slept like crap the night before. I'm cramming here, thank you very much.

PlayList: Metallica - Nothing Else Matters!

Stoppit before I replace you with CDs. You were cuter when you had that habit of warbling 'Sex Drive' as I tried to write serious, tear-jerking, emotionally wrenching drama. Still annoying and counter-productive, but cuter.

PlayList: Rob Zombie - Living Dead Girl!

Keep it up, Sparky. Just keep it up.