so why do I have carols still stuck in my head? More specifically, why ONE carol, and not even a cool one, it's one of those sorta non-mainstream 50's-ish ones, where you kinda expect The Andrews Sisters or a big brass section to suddenly jump in and start swinging. And it's not even the whole song, it's two verses. "merry bells keep ringing/happy holidays/to you-ooooo" Perry Como or someone.
Perhaps by playing old sea shanties I can exorcise the demons in my head that insist on playing their Victrola.
And so why is it still insisting on being 28 degrees out? It's Louisiana, for crying out loud, it's TROPICAL. 28 degrees outside is unnatural, like newspaper comics. It just ain't right. My motorcycle thinks I've permanently abandoned it, when the truth is that it's so cold I'm afraid that even a short ride would make my joints fuse into 'rider's crouch' and I would have to work all day looking like Miguel Duhammel getting through Turn 12 at Road America.
I can just see it now-
Irr: "Can I help you, sir?"
Wife: "Oh my god, it's a hunchback!"
Husband: "Nooo, dear, it's only a roadracer. They get that characteristic 'rider's crouch' when they get older and cannot race anymore. Do not fear him, we should instead pity him."
Irr: (John Merrick-ing) "I am not a roadracer, I am a man!"
Wife: "Let's go someplace else, like Wal-Mart. They don't hire cripples OR old roadracers."
Husb: "Yes, dear, I think you're probably right."
Irr: (frothing and twitching)
Homestar: "I say there monstrosity, do you know the times?"
It's not easy, being a salesman.