So I'm taking a training class for work and the break room is right across the hall from the classroom. Are you with me so far?
Now, said break room has the usual coffee and unhealthy snacks. It also has a CD player and a stack of CDs. Each day it plays some innocuously mellow music. Some days that music is better than others. The other day was Etta James - that was nice. More recently it was some way-too-mellow jazzy stuff that insinuated its way into my brain crenelations like worms in rotting meat. It was very difficult to pull it out and boy did that feel gross!
But I discovered there is a step beyond way-too-mellow jazzy stuff burrowing into my brain crevasses. Behold the horror of the day prior:
It didn't start out too badly. Even I can stand very small doses of fairly mellow Barry Manilow (or Mary Banilow as I prefer to call him). But after listening to a rousing rendition of Oh Mandy, followed by the upbeat and uber-lovely - I Write the Songs and the soothing and romantic - Looks Like We Made it, it started in on Copacabana. At that point it was far far far into the 'way-too-much-mary-banilow' category. And when I found my leg starting to bounce and my body starting to sway in time to the music I decided it was just over the top too much! It was bad enough I was being subjected to endless Barry Manilow, but another thing altogether to have my body betray me and start moving in time with the music! Traitorous!
So, I went over to the break room . . .
and . . .
I . . .
turned that CD down!
Oh, I'm sorry. Were you expecting something more. Something involving shattered CD players and CDs spinning across the break room? Some cursing of the Mary Banilow name? Sorry to disappoint you. All I did was turn it town. Not off, just down. But boy did I turn that thing down! Way down! Now-no-one-can-hear-it down. Ha ha ha ha!
And before this class is over I'm bringing in some Five Finger Death Punch or maybe All That Remains. And I'll put that in the CD player. And I'll turn it up. Way up. Muah ha ha ha ha ha.