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The Toybox

people for the conservation of limited amounts of indignation


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divinys could be work appropriate if you consider the alternatives
children of dune - leto 1
seperis
The thing that bothers me about assimilation of lyrics without conscious effort is it is inevitable when I start to accidentally sing it, it will be something about oral sex, killing someone just to watch them bleed out, various shades of drug use, suicide, or worst of all, Spanish, which isn't bad in itself when alone (I know enough to pick up the concept of the song, but it can be questionable since I don't know enough to be sure), but a source of endless hilarity to my coworkers when I'm murmuring earnestly about like, love among the banditos or something and apparently my accent is Texas by way of white girl by way of "are you singing about goats? What was that word? Was that even a word?" according to native and fluent speakers. The answer is no, it was not about goats. At least, I hope not. Selena would never betray me like that.

I've talked about how I don't actually consciously, actively know many songs at all; everything I know is by osmosis repeat one on iTunes, and I breathe the words along with it when I'm testing, and if I'm feeling really--we'll call it frustrated?--with the test, the computer, the cubicle, the building, the existence of the universe, it may be slightly louder than breathing. I don't remember otherwise; I couldn't a capella most of it on purpose to save my life. Which I think argues there's a separate storage area in the brain devoted to lyrics memorization, random facts, and in my case, a strange and uncomfortable competence in wirestripping without breaking the copper fibers, and for no reason at all, the ability to recognize any Pride and Prejudice adaptation after three minutes of watching, no matter what part is showing at the time.

Not that I don't value that ability. I'm just saying, what the fuck?

Anyway, singing. I soundtrack my life even if its only in my head; it's just that sometimes, it doesn't stay there. I've come to terms with 1.) I'm bad at singing, 2.) I don't care, and 3.) for the most part, being humiliated when I realize that I'm singing I Touch Myself at the copier just takes up valuable time I could use to type updates into Twitter. Because seriously, when your supervisor comes by your office to query about your loving rendition of bodies like sheep to the rhythm of blahblah go back to sleep (seriously, I don't know the lyrics. Until I start singing them. It's weird.) to your not-starting computer while standing over it holding a letter opener, it's just easier to get everyone so used to it they don't notice anymore.

(That's been in rotation almost three years now and never really gets old.)

Context: my music mix at work usually has a hard beat so I can work in rhythm to it, and because it keeps me awake, and because most of the stuff with a hard beat is fairly violent and I'm in a cubicle, so it seems natural they go together. Most recently, though, I brought my primary home playlists into rotation, because I was on a The Fray kick, and then brought in Adam and Kings of Leon to balance out the mix so it's not primarily A Perfect Circle, Korn, and strangely enough, Britney Spears.

So yesterday I was humming along carrying a box of Harry and David's chocolate cherries to offer people who were unfortunate enough to be stuck at work and probably needed the encouragement to dissuade active suicidal tendencies, and skipping between empty cubicles, I picked up a pen someone dropped and thought about Adam's cane in For Your Entertainment. In my defense, as in there's not one, I was already pissed at him about some scripts I'd written that he'd rejected, so as I hit R's cubicle, I was at full volume telling him I was giving it to him until he was screaming my name instead of being passive-aggressive and thinking it viciously.

(To be fair, Adam's not osmosis lyric learning; it has a hard beat and telling my computer I'm not soft or sweet speeds up load time immensely, so I made the effort to memorize. It's not that I didn't know what I was singing; I just didn't realize I'd increased my volume quite that much when I wasn't sure the aisle was empty.)

I may or may not have pointed the pen at him at the time, but that's best left to history. So as one does, I offered him a chocolate cherry and shimmed back to my cubicle at four-four time and took off my headphones so whoever walked by could sing along, since shame just took a backdoor to the fact I had four more hours at work and there was a better than average chance my feelings about my new relationship with Twitter were starting to unsettle me.

(Protip, R; do not piss off someone working the day before Christmas Eve who rocks six one in her favorite shoes and is taller than you by three inches without them. It's not an accident that I love heels; I know exactly why people react differently when they have to look up at me.)

This is still better than "when I think of you, I touch myself" while staring moodily at a copier, I have to say. It could have been so much worse. It could have been Ben Moody's Everything Burns. Apparently I shouldn't talk about fire at work or something; I'm told it makes people twitchy.

Note: My sister made me listen to the song "Becky" several times by sheer malice. Example of highly involuntary osmosis learning and possibly my sister's idea of hilarious torture. Make. It. Go. Away. Now. Even my slowly degrading standards of public conduct have to draw a line at asking for someone's mouth, and God, I hate that song. And my sister. So. Much.

Context: Lyrics.

This will end well, I think.

Eventually, I should probably wrap the last presents. Maybe.
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that is the funniest story ever.

The sad part is, it isn't even unique; I always misjudge my volume or you know, where I am and what I'm singing. Adding bondage into the mix is new, admittedly. In retrospect, I wish I'd been wearing my boots. Which isn't the thing I should regret most. *g*

Thanks!

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Ooh. I should switchto singing in a language no one else knows!

....possibly learn one as well. Hmm.

Just last week I noticed I kept getting the weirdest looks at work... turns out I'd been singing Avenue Q's song "The Internet is For Porn" for like an hour without noticing. *headesks*

Ahaha this happens to me all the time. It can be embarrassing. I'm just waiting for the day I get arrested on suspicion of terrorism for singing "something here will eventually have to explode" on a train or something :P

Oh my God thank you. No one else I know does that and they look at me crazy when I explain, sometimes, I really don't know I'm singing, much less what.

I'm just waiting for the day I get arrested on suspicion of terrorism for singing "something here will eventually have to explode" on a train or something :P

Maybe we should establish a bail fund for this; now that I think about it, singing Metallica might be interpreted incorrectly....


My case isn't quite as bad as yours, I generally know what I'm singing :P it's just that I have a permanent mental soundtrack and I can't always stop it er, escaping into the wild, as it were :P I can usually redirect it to a different song, but I keep forgetting.

something here will eventually have to explode

Mountain Goats FTW!

Ha! This happens to me too and the worst part is, someone will point it out and I'll blink and say sorry and then I'll have NO IDEA WHAT I WAS SINGING. I kinda live in terror of finding out.

OH MY GOD YES. And sometimes? From the looks on their faces? I really don't wat to know.

While I have never (to my knowledge at least) actually sung it out loud, there have been at least two occasions when I was on an airplane en route from A to B with the song "Don't Use Your Penis For A Brain" stuck in my head.

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Currently there are only four outside my work rotations, other than the writing playlists (some of the same songs, different rhythm). The writing ones tend to be temporary for a specific fic and then deleted since they don't work twice.

...okay, the Cut Your Wrists playlist is also used for writing, but its' kind of a specialized sort of fic.

I'm so happy I'm not the only person who puts itunes on repeat1 for hours on end. It drives everyone I live with absolutely nuts, but it's almost the only way I listen to music.
I also sing at work (even though I'm a terrible singer), but it's okay because pretty much everyone else does too. Yesterday (working on Christmas Eve blah) we were at the front desk singing 80's hits along with the radio. People gave all four of us pretty weird looks.

'm so happy I'm not the only person who puts itunes on repeat1 for hours on end.

Srsly, I'm weirded out when people don't. I love that song! I WILL LISTEN TO IT FIVE HUNDRED TIMES.

...or if it's Whataya Want From Me by Adam, 1284 plays since 11/24. *disturbed*

Haha I once got home from a drinking binge and decided singing in the shower at the top of my lungs was a good idea. At 2am. My flatmates were not very impressed.

Once while down in the computer lab in the basement of my dorm at UT I got tapped on the shoulder and asked to stop singing, which I hadn't realized I was doing, and it was "Birdhouse in your Soul" and my god I can still sing those lyrics without having to stop and remind myself of them.

Also, a British friend told me about how the Highlander soundtrack has the whole thing where tracks have bits of movie dialogue in between them, and he'd gotten himself so very much in the habit of reciting the dialogue along with the actors at those points that he didn't even notice he was doing it anymore, and it really freaks people out when you suddenly start talking about missing heads on London Transport.

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