Back then, whenever Dad had to reach for a generic classical piece, he would say, ‘the Dance of the Sugar Plums or something.’
“Son, maybe you can go outside and learn to change your OWN spark plugs for once, instead of sitting in here all the time listening to the Dance of the Sugar Plums or something.”
“Well, I don’t KNOW, Matt. Maybe if you weren’t always listening to the Dance of the Sugar Plums or something you’d already know how to DRIVE a stick-shift.”
“So what are we listening to today, son? Dance of the Sugar Plums or something?”
… It would only have made matters worse if I’d told him it was really called the Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy.
My point exactly. If he’d known the real name, I could have worn a dress, changed by name to “Alice,” and started growing xenias for the grief it would have brought me.
Awesome. You really do sneeze like a cat!
I’ve been saying it since day 1 (as nicely illustrated)!
Forgot to say I like the evolution of my t-shirts. However, you missed my Van Halen years, late elementary school through junior high.
I guess I need to hear you sneeze again. Never noticed you sounding like a cat, but that was pretty cute.
The VH years would have been the third one. Or maybe the second.
I would be interested in seeing which tapes are in my cassette recorder, so that I, too, could trace my musical evolution.
You’re listening to Bach’s Greatest Hits.
Ah, “Bach’s Greatest Hits.” Was I ever so young?
Back then, whenever Dad had to reach for a generic classical piece, he would say, ‘the Dance of the Sugar Plums or something.’
“Son, maybe you can go outside and learn to change your OWN spark plugs for once, instead of sitting in here all the time listening to the Dance of the Sugar Plums or something.”
“Well, I don’t KNOW, Matt. Maybe if you weren’t always listening to the Dance of the Sugar Plums or something you’d already know how to DRIVE a stick-shift.”
“So what are we listening to today, son? Dance of the Sugar Plums or something?”
… It would only have made matters worse if I’d told him it was really called the Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy.
“Dance of the Sugar Plumbs” actually sounds less gay than “Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy.”
My point exactly. If he’d known the real name, I could have worn a dress, changed by name to “Alice,” and started growing xenias for the grief it would have brought me.