Death by Radio

 

I have one of those rigs that plays my iTunes through my car radio. It only hooks up to my iPhone so iI  have  the iOnly iPhone that iWorks on iIt. I thought this would ensure I don't have to suffer through my kids' play lists when I'm driving and could, instead, listen to real music like Creedence Clearwater Revival and Capt. Beefheart. On repeat.

I was wrong. Naturally.

My kids just get in, swipe my rig and plug a new station into Pandora and there I am stuck in traffic listening to Neutral Milk Hotel or something I can only describe as incidental music for a vampire's wake.

I endure it. It's part of being a parent. I tortured my dad with Queen and AC/DC and he tortured me with George Jones and the Lettermen so I know where they're coming from.

Pandora has been my constant companion since I got my phone. In case you've never used it, Pandora creates an online radio station based on a song or band you like. It names the station after that song. Ergo: I have a station called "Born on the Bayou" and "Psycho Killer".

But I was giving a friend a ride yesterday and he was digging my music so he opened Pandora on my iPhone to iCheck it out and started laughing.

Dude: Dude, are all of these your playlists?

Me: Yep.

Dude: They're . . . eclectic.

Me: Well, I used to run a record store so I—wait, which ones?

Dude: Well, "Enormous Penis radio" sounds good. "Sex with ducks radio" would go over well on Belmont & Western . . .

Me: [French].

Lesson, never give up your death like grip o your iPhone.