Quote:
Originally posted by robustpuppy
When I was in college some frat guy thought that playing James Taylor was a sure way into a girl's pants. I didn't think this approach would work on anyone until I went to grad school and had a housemate who associated Cowboy Junkies with multiple orgasms and thus played it whenever she brought someone home.
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Well, their Satanic Majesties' Request doesn't work on the ladies either. Its a hell of a thing to be having sex on your coffee table while "On With the Show" is playing and there are about 500 people in the basement and assorted outside listening to a Stones/Clapton/Dead cover band playing "The Core." With the right - or wrong - ears, you start hearing all the secret hidden messages in the track. The girl starts howling in a fungally induced frenzy about how she's going to throw up all those Rumplemintz shots and you just watch the colors blend around the celining, hearing Mick whisper "they're naked and they dance... bourbon and soda... they're naked and they dance..." as the girl looses her shit, and scrambles to the Lazy Boy in the corner, babbling about how people are "watching you."
I gave up on picking the music, or even trying to fuck in the frat house. No point in it. Everything there was always ugly, but good ugly. Very good ugly...
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