Since we are the PROUD! AND RIDICULOUSLY SMITTEN! AND COMPLETELY ADDICTED! new owners of an iMac, our party preparations included AN INSANE AMOUNT! A STUPIFYING QUANTITY! FREAKISH DURATIONS! of time using its extensive collection of nifty tools for locating, shuffling and sorting EVERY PIECE OF MUSIC EVER MADE, ANYWHERE to build THE PERFECT PLAY LIST for the festivities.
Long about hour 62 of playlist mixology, I'd reluctantly embarked on a brief trip to the kitchen to do something culinary, leaving Al in the office clickity-click-clicking through the Eagles extensive discography. While I was away, he cued up a tune for my approval, and I immediately dropped my 5lb. pork butt with an unceremonious thud and started lip synching into my air mike whisk.
(I'm not allowed to sing out loud anymore because as those who know me will readily attest, my singing voice has been known to shatter all three separate ear bones of any mammal - and that includes all three subclasses - within a 2 mile radius.)
"Oh, yes!" I crooned loudly and approvingly over my shoulder toward the office. "I just lo-o-o-ve this song. Gives me goosebumps all over. Makes me a little weak in the knees."
And as I listened, the music got progressively louder until finally I heard male footsteps behind me and turned around.
Ahem. Y'all think he might be needin' a little of my attention?