Shopping in the grocery store, I notice that the music certainly isn't what it used to be. Gone is the store owner's daughter singing/caterwauling canned holiday music. Gone is the piped in elevator music. Over the last few years, the store has gotten more and more progressive in their musical choices: Linda Ronstadt, Todd Rundgren, ELO.
Today, though, the grocery store is playing The Fixx and Heart. There's even some Michael Jackson thrown in. Suddenly, I'm in the classic hard rock zone, humming along, singing along softly. This isn't that makeshift instrumental shit. This is the real deal.
I get to the check-out, which always takes forever. The lady bagging walks away at one point while packing the groceries of the woman ahead of me, and so I wait ... and I wait ... Over the ceiling speakers I hear a distinctive yet simplistic guitar rift and the sound of people cheering.
Woke up this morning with a wine glass in my hand...
What the hell. Holy flashback.
Whose wine? What wine? Where the hell did I dine?
My friend got busted just the other day ...
Somehow reliving my teenage years while shopping for feta cheese and wax paper just seems so wrong. I try hustling the bagger along, but she's unbearably sociable and unnervingly slow. I do manage to escape before Frampton whips out the guitar-linked Talk Box.
