On the train back from Pennsylvania:
Me: (Sniffs) I smell pizza. I want it.
A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Dan: Yeah, I smell pizza too.
Me: I should walk up to whoever has pizza and say, "I'm afraid I'm going to have to confiscate that pizza, sir."
Dance Dance Revolution: Then you should sit right across from him and start eating his pizza. If he tries to stop you, just ask, "Are you harassing a government employee?"
Me: That doesn't even necessarily imply that I am a government employee.
Raggedy Dan: And yet he'll stop bothering you and just let you eat his pizza.
"Old Yellow Bricks" by the Arctic Monkeys
There's something very comforting to me about listening to the Arctic Monkeys. Suddenly I'm back in college and awkwardly dancing around in my dorm room, praying my roommate won't barge in and conclude that I'm even weirder than she originally thought. But I keep dancing, because the Arctic Monkeys are playing and I just can't not dance.
I know that it was just the Fourth of July and that the Arctic Monkeys are a British band. But I've spent the last three Independence Days respectively hanging out in Paris (the ultimate enemy of all things 'merican), watching TV on my desk chair because I didn't (and still don't) own a couch, and eating dinner at a lakefront restaurant which faced away from the fireworks.
So basically I am a fucking rebel who doesn't really care that much about the Fourth of July or fireworks.
If you'll excuse me, I've got some awkward Arctic Monkey jamming to get back to.