This is my all-time favorite vacation spot! Right at the edge of the Palatinate forest in Germany.





If for some reason I were ever to become privy to some sort of information that was of enough worth to someone that they decided to kidnap me for interrogation or torture, I will make it easy for them and tell them exactly how to go about it. I can laugh off broken bones and beatings just fine but the minute they put a speaker in front of my face and start playing “Hotel California” by the Eagles, I’ll snap! Either that or I’ll fly into some sort of Hulk-like rage and demolish everything in sight. Why am I so angry? Says Desi, “Lemme ‘splain you…”

I work with a couple of guys, they’re pretty good guys I guess but when you spend 12+ hours a day 7 days a week for months at a time with the same clowns, little things start to add up. Once I’m done here, the only person I want to spend that kind of time with would be my ideal future desert island companion haha. Or my cat.

One of the annoying habits that they both share is that they will listen to the same few songs ALL DAY LONG for months and months! They have taken some perfectly good music that I’ve always enjoyed and just massacred it through constant overdose. I don’t know what it is but when I hear the first few notes of “Hotel California” or Beyonce (never liked her anyway) hollering about how she’s got “one night only” from the Dreamgirls soundtrack, I just want to throw the speakers out the window. I seem to have absorbed through aural osmosis a couple of songs in Macedonian, I know a whole bunch of Miley Cyrus songs by heart (the older of the two guys is a 47 year old die-hard fan), and the David Ball song about Private Malone just makes me cringe.

It makes me wonder sometimes about the benefit of having IPods or in my case, a Zune, massive DVD collections, movies on-demand, and 24/7 news. I worry sometimes about overdosing on everything, that everyday reality is losing its ability to satisfy me. I just never want to get to the point where I go for a walk in the woods and I’m not entertained. And at 25, I’m entirely too young to be lamenting the fact that my future kids face the distinct possibility of growing up desensitized to the world around them. I guess I’m old already. I need a rocking chair, a lawn, and little kids to yell at. Help me find my good dentures and pass me my tapioca!