this post was amazing. it was thought-provoking and witty, poignant and funny, deep and clever.
fucking blogger ate it as i tried to fancy it up with some html, so i'm going to have to try again. and i've learned my lesson... never click a button unless you've CTL+Vd your post. bitches.

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it always amazes me how far back we can remember. a sound, a smell, an abstract concept or a concrete place, the human mind memorizes it all on some level and can call it up at a moment's notice.

my parents used to play traveling wilburys, vol. 1 all the time when i was a kid. from "handle with care" to "end of the line," they played it all the time. all the time. i think pelowski takes a page from their book when it comes to playing music repetitively. i don't remember much of what they played when i was little -- but the ones i do, they played nonstop. they must have been obsessive compulsive. it's a wonder i didn't inherit that.

so 7th grade hit, and i went through an awful musical period. i don't think any of you were around for that, and you should fall to your knees and thank god for such a blessing right now. i believe i actually dressed as a spice girl that year. 9th grade marked the end of this godawful time period, which included an 'nsync obsession and subsequent concert, and a plethora of cds that i have either sold or buried in my basement since. these i will not name.

10th grade -- high school. i went through emo, hxc, screamo, and back in my two years in woodbury. it was terrible. yeah, i still listen to a few songs/albums from that time period, either for nostalgic reasons or because it was actually good, but the majority of it was quite embarrassing.

through these dark times, i thought the music my parents listened to was crap. "their music is so old, it practically smells!" i remember saying once. (not only was i ignorant, but i thought i was hilarious. look how much i've grown.)

one day, though, i got into my dad's jeep and he was playing his "fogey" music. i rolled my eyes as i climbed in, but the lyrics floating through the speakers stopped me.

"she wrote a long letter
on a short piece of paper
....mar--ga--rita."

"dad!" i cried. "what is this?"
"it's the traveling wilburys."
"what? who? i know this song!"

and sure enough, i did. i knew every word to every song. i could sing along with the guitar solos. i could mimic roy orbison's voice inflections perfectly during the end of "not alone anymore." i could do my bad bob dylan impression on "congratulations." i sang along with all the sexual innuendos on "dirty world" and was quickly embarrassed that i said what i did in front of my father.

it amazed me that i remembered all this, after not hearing it for twelve years.

there's the age-old argument that we only use ten percent of our brains. if i can remember an album my parents used to play twelve years prior, think of what i could do if i used it to its full capacity. i could cure cancer, which would make smoking much more fun. i could re-invent the wheel. i'd be a freaking millionaire.

but i'm not. i'm just a girl who has fallen in love with the music of her parents' generation. maybe i'd rather be a millionaire. then i could buy bob dylan, jeff lynne, and tom petty (seeing as they're the only remaining members of the wilburys). so i'd have both. and i'd reflect on my days of banging out bizarre and unconnected posts on my laptop computer with the pentium II processor, while i was doing the backstroke through my swimming pool full of hundred dollar bills.

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i also just want to say that my new mozilla skin makes me feel like i have an apple when i really just have a pc. someday, steve jobs, i will be your slave instead of gates'. that's a promise, buddy.

and as announced elsewhere, i am currently attempting to make a "fat ass" mix, but i need help. here's what i already have:
"ms. fat booty (parts one and two)" by mos def (& ghostface killah)
"big bottom" by spinal tap
"fat bottomed girls" by queen
"baby got back" by richard cheese (because i'm a tool and don't have the sir mix-a-lot version)

that's all. so help.
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