They Might Be Giants: Birdhouse in your Soul
My senior year of high school, 1995, the last play that we did that semester was Once Upon a Mattress. It's a musical based on the Princess and the Pea. It was a strange musical but a really good cast and I got to spend a lot of time screwing around with my friends and making out with various chicks. It was fun. I remember Jamie Wedow convinced this one blonde chick to lift up her shirt and show him her bra for a quarter. He didn't have one, so he summoned me over and I gave her a quarter and we got a bit of a show. She showed her goods off to us for about ten or so seconds and then lowered her shirt, saying it would be another quarter to see more. Well, I always carry change so I pulled out over two dollars in quarters. She screamed like a B-movie queen and ran away. It was funny as hell.
It was the last play of the year and the last play a lot of us would do on that stage. Hell, it was the last play a lot of the people there would probably ever do. And right before the curtain we would all go into this room in the back, the vocal room, and we'd have some bullshit pep talk. But it was Jamie's idea to instead of hear the same bullshit talk, that we'd all listen to Birdhouse in Your Soul and dance and sing and jump around and just rock the fuck out. Which we did. Every night, right before going up there, we'd crank this song and just let go of every problem we had.
Now I'm almost thirty. I can't fucking believe that. I never thought that I'd live past the century, past age twenty-seven, or even past my thirties and now I'm almost there. I have a job I've held for almost six years now. I have a wife and two kids. Can you believe that? Two kids?!? And, to put a period on the end of all those sentences, I now have a minivan. It doesn't have a cd player, though, so while I was rummaging through old, dusty boxes for cassettes I found my old They Might Be Giants cassette, the one I bought at Zia's that I would listen to in my bedroom at my parent's house. I drive to work in the morning and every once and a while I'll put that cassette in and remember way back in the mid-nineties when I would pack into a shitty little music room and jump around and dance and sing and have no cares in the whole fucking world.