Confession Time
While griping about my neighbor’s insistence on playing the same songs over and over again ad nauseum, I have to confess, I have been known to do the same thing. Not quite as much these days as I did in my youth, but still, I hit replay on the stereo my fair share of the time.
I was a sophomore in high school when Jimmy Buffet’s, Come Monday, first came out. My friend and I each bought 45s. We then went to her house — where no one was home — and slapped the record on the stereo. We left the changing arm up, which was the signal to the record player to play the song repeatedly.
The two of us then went into the kitchen in search of food. There was no soda in the fridge, so my friend went out to the garage fridge to bring some in. She returned with a Pepsi for each of us, and said, “That’s weird. My mom’s car’s in the garage. I wonder how she got to work?” (Neither of us took that thought any further.)
Sandwiches made, sodas in hand, we sat down and the dining room table and proceeeded to play Yahtzee. The song on the stereo was probably on it’s third go ’round. My friend’s mother staggered into the room. She was wearing her robe, her hair was a mess and she rather looked like death walking. She had an Ibuprofen bottle clutched in one hand and was holding her head with the other.
“Turn that off,” she rasped at us.
“Turn what off?” Neither of us had a clue. Mrs. Friend shook her pill bottle at the stereo and said, “That! That racket!” She then took my friend’s unopened Pepsi and shuffled back down the hall.
My friend went to the stereo and turned it down about three decibels. I said, “Your mother said, off.”
My friend shrugged. “It’s okay, she won’t be able to hear it from her room, and that’s as good as off.” We resumed our Yahtzee game.
About fifteen minutes and five repetitions of the song later, Mrs. Friend appeared again. She never said a word. She shuffled to the stereo, took the record and went back to her room. My friend said, “Oh, I guess she could still hear it.”
We tried to play Yahtzee in silence for awhile, but that is a very difficult thing for teenagers to do. After about ten minutes, Friend got my 45, and put it on the stereo. She turned the volume down another notch. I asked if she was sure that was a good idea. She assured me that her mother wouldn’t be able to hear the music.
Not five minutes later Mrs. Friend shuffled into the room again. She bent down, unplugged the stereo, and cut the end off the cord with her scissors. She pocketed the plug and shuffled back down the hall.
Friend and I stared at each other in shock. Finally, Friend said, “Is your grandmother home?”
I shrugged. “Probably.”
“Huh. So, how’s she feel about Jimmy Buffet?”
“I don’t know.” I answered while lifting my 45 from the stereo. “Let’s go find out.”
Friend grabbed her car keys ….
* * *
Speaking of Mondays, this is one and OC is flying into town today. He will only be here for a few hours (2:30 p.m. to 5 a.m.), so don’t send out the National Guard if you don’t hear from us.
14 Comments
Jimmy Buffet is one of the reasons that I think being deaf has its advantages. No more Margaritaville! ForEVER!
Diesel — thanks for the earworm. Now I’m going to be “looking for my lost shaker of salt” all day, and I think, well, it could be your fault.
i was never like that (yeah, right!) 🙂
Polona — I can’t believe I’m admitting I was like that!
Quilly, you’ve been awarded the “Thinking Blogger Award” at my blog. Congratulations! Now check my blog (when you have time) and pass the award along.
Glad your friend is coming to visit. You were an interesting teen ager.
I guess either I’m too young to know who on Earth Jimmy Buffet is, or his tunes never made it to Oz airwaves.
For the record, as a teenager, I used to replay my new music over and over again too. Hopefully it wasn’t as irritating as Britney Spears…
I laughed at this one because I could imagine myself as the sick mom with the scissors cutting the cord to the record player.
My brother, two years older than me, used to play his electric bass guitar in our basement which was just under our room. Now he has two boys and I am waiting for the day for them to get into loud music…so far they only like sports.
Silver — wow! Thanks! I’m flattered. Ill respond after my company leaves.
Dr. John — that is a kind way of saying I was a brat.
Mumma — it is fluff music. You’ve not missed much.
Lori — at the time we were floored, but now, reflecting, I wonder if Bobbie had a migraine? We are probablylucky she didn’t use the scissors on us!
How do you feel about Toccata and Fugue in D minor, Q? Wages of sin … :*
OC — I’ll tell you right after I cut the stereo cord. 😉
Yea…. I think I’ve had my share too… Maggie Mae comes to mind… I still do it occasionally too! LOL! (but NOT with Brittany Spears!)
Melli — I think the only Rod Stewart Song that drove me to continuous replay was, “If You Think I’m Sexy.”
Ok. So she actually snipped the cord and that wasn’t enough? Put it in her pocket? Wow. Guess you girls got the HINT.
I still play songs over and over and over: Sting’s “All This Time” and “Fields Of Gold” and Van’s “Into The Mystic” and it just goes on and on and on, over and over and over.
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