Friends, I’d like to talk to you about a serious affliction I’ve been saddled with for most of my life. It affects me and probably millions of you out there. Let’s lift the veil of shame and talk about it: It’s called Musical Tourettes.
Musical Tourettes is a disorder often onset in late adolescence, characterized by the recurrent involuntary exclamation of certain verses of song. It is a state of being unable to control the urge to burst into song, especially in quiet/highly inappropriate situations. Essentially, it’s subjecting others to your awful singing, especially while wearing headphones or earbuds. The exact causes are unknown but it’s believed to be associated with joy, exuberance and general fucking awesomeness and yes, I just made that definition up, just go with it. There is no known cure, and anyway, ..if there’s a cure for this, I DON’T WANT IT- I DON’T WANT IT!
See? I can’t help it! I guess it wasn’t really a problem in the 80’s because we all carried around those Lloyd Dobler-esque giant jam-boxes which announced our intentions and drowned out our own singing.
|“IN YOUR EYES- THE LIGHT, THE HEAT..”|
With the advent of super small earbuds and Bluetooth, sometimes people don’t even realize you’re listening to music so when you walk by and shout, I BELIEVE IN MIRACLES! WHERE YA FROM? YOU SEXY THANG, YOU! They might actually tell you where they’re from and that is just awkward.
My worst episodes occur in the morning while walking with the dog (who, by the way, loves my voice– just ask him). You know how much I hate to exercise, right? So I need my jams to get me through my work out. I have wildly varied musical tastes so my song catalogue is that of a schizophrenic– I’ve got some Beastie Boys and some BeeGees. I’ve got Die Antwoord and Dixie Chicks. I’m all over the place but while exercising my preferences tend to lean towards ’80’s funk and the misogynistic gangsta rap genre. I can’t explain it– I think I have latent fantasies about being a video ho or something. Who doesn’t, really? These songs have some of the worst lyrics to blurt out on a quiet morning walk. I’ll be bopping along with my earbuds in, listening to Mystikal and pass a young mother with her stroller and my About A Boy moment happens:
“Shake ya ass! Watch yourself! Shake ya ass! Show me what you’re workin’ wit!”
I give her a weak smile and point to my ears and mouth a “sorry” as she strolls her toddler quickly away to safety. And probably calls the police.
All of the yard guys in my neighborhood have been privy to my outbursts and I’ve already told you all about maintenance dude at the dog park. He loves my Musical Tourrette’s and always stops fixing the sprinkler to stare at me and laugh. It’s mortifying. Here’s just a small sample of my recent exclamational train wrecks:
“Give it to me– gimme that stuff, that funk, that sweet, that funky stuff/SAY WHAT?!”
“Do ya thing like they ain’t nuttin to it. Shake, sh-sh-shake that ass, girl!”
“Get naked! Get naked! Get naked! Get naked! Take it off!”
“Here I go, here I go, here I go again- girls, what’s my weakness? Men!”
“No diggity! …I got ta bag it up.”
“Is it worth it? Let me work it! I put my thang down, flip it and reverse it..”
I wish I was joking.
I mean, how can you not belt these songs out? They just make me feel good and anyway I sound awesome, right? RIGHT?
The Oatmeal knows what’s up.
We won’t even get into my interpretive dancing and hand gestures. I could write a whole blog on that problem, too. It’s worth noting that I’m completely sober when this happens. Usually.
Please tell me I’m not alone with my affliction. What songs can you not help but belt out whenever you hear them?