I was just having a minor panic attack over my budget for this weekend (a wedding that I just realized will cost me $900.00 when all is said and done- which, this was the point of me working my ass off for the last six months so I could afford it BUT STILL- $1K for three days?! Sweet Jesus, it hurts) when Pandora decided to help by playing a Phantom Planet song, a band it’s never played before on this particular station. Clearly the Universe is trying to tell me something.
And that something is this: “Hey, you. Yeah, you down there at the computer. Remember this band? No, not this song. This song is terrible. But their voices? Does it ring any bells? Remember?”
“You and your best friend driving in her sweet Geo, packed to the gills, over the Nevada/California boarder? You blasted that song ‘California’ really loud, maybe a few times, remember? You didn’t care about that show with Mischa Barton or the fact that neither of you really liked the band that much- you were moving to California and after a week on the road you were there, there, heading over the boarder, to a new life, a new apartment, everything new and you were sweaty and tired of driving and your friends are in the car ahead of you, your friends came too! and you’re a little punchy and heading to some place called Needles for the night, so of course you would blast that song and who cares that it was corny or whatever (that whole drive was corny, right down to the enormous container of stale Candy Corn that sustained you throughout the lower 48 states). But no matter. None of that matters.
CALIFORNIA. You made it. Welcome.”
Money is nothing. Check you later, kids. I’m going home.
Entry filed under: Love Ya.