The Smiths – Buzzkill for today’s teens

Today was bad, very, very bad. Our computer has been out for the past few days with the minor exception of a few minutes here and a few minutes there. I couldn’t get on this morning, but since I was becoming used to this setback I handled it with aplomb – only one muttered m-effer.

I get to my regularly scheduled cleaning job that I was expecting to be tiring but mostly stress free, and who is waiting for me? Not the elderly mother-in-law I was told would be there, but the grunting sailor for whom all cleanliness means a new place to mess up. I groaned audibly and took a deep breath. I hate this shit. Cleaning that is. I am too pregnant, too hot and too grumpy to be doing this kind of thing.

So I do my thing, including cleaning up after something he broke and chose to thoughtfully leave broken glass laying about for me to step on, which I did. (I will most assuredly be blamed for breaking whatever it was that was broken.)

I finished only moments before passing out from heat exhaustion.

I pull into my driveway and I notice an unknown vehicle in it. I walk in and hear horrific sounds coming from the basement. Amateurish guitar noodling being played at loud indecipherable volumes – MY COMPUTER IS DOWN THERE.

Okay, so I am hot, tired, can’t check my email, read my favorite blogs within the five minute up and down intervals and NOW THERE IS GODFORSAKEN CRAP MUSIC WAFTING UP THE STAIRS. Who do I kill first?

I call Eric, cause if I didn’t have him to bitch at, then the cats would have to do.

“WHAT IN THE NAME OF GOD IS GOING ON AROUND HERE?” I yell, while screeching guitars and plunking bass drown out the phone.

“Oh, Chris asked if he could have some friends over to practice, I said yes.”

“Oh, really, well I say screw you, cause you aren’t here listening to this unlistenable garbage IN THE BASEMENT. Why aren’t they in his room?”

I was disgusted, and hung up on Eric for what had to be the fifth time in two days. I decided to use this time wisely AND fight fire with fire.

I looked over my cd collection and the most offensive thing I could find was BECK’s, “Sea Change”. Now Beck himself isn’t offensive, but what could be worse to the ears of teenage boys than a dude lamenting about heartache and pain?

It didn’t work, and let me tell you, I had it on LOUD.

I finished cleaning downstairs and the cd was over but crappy Metallica kept on being bastardized by manic teens and I was really about to LOSE MY SHIT.

I sat down and thought hard “what is the most foreign and alien thing to a metal head teenage boy in my collection?”

THE SMITHS!!! I busted out a little “Meat Is Murder” on their punk asses and damn if it didn’t work. They were gone before track two was over. I may be old, but I know how to control young minds.

A little Morrissey goes a long way.