• 9th January
  • 09

Need more cowbell

My childhood best friend had an older brother, his name was James and he was dreamy. Not because he was necessarily all that good looking, but around my age at the time, 12-15, he was the coolest human alive. We called people like him “progressive” which I guess now a days would be the equivalent of a collegiate-emo-hipster, or similar. James had amazing style and liked “weird” music; Siouxsie and the Banshees, The Dead Milkman, Depeche Mode, but most impressionable, The Beastie Boys. This was quite the listening experience when all I was used to was blaming shit on the rain thanks to Milli Vanilli. Anyway, the Beastie Boys resonated. That semester in gym class we were given a project, make up a couples jump rope routine to the song of our choosing. I immediately looked over at my friend and saw the cow bells shinning in her eyes. HEY LADIES. We practiced like we were opening on Broadway, even made her dad find us an actual cow bell as a prop to add flair to our performance. And so the day came, we excitedly performed the shit out of our routine to sea a blank stares and crickets. What was this devils music? Bunch of Catholic school fucks. I can’t remember exactly the grade we got but it wasn’t exactly winning any honors society memberships.

I learned a very important lesson that day, people have horribly shitty taste in music and I don’t give a fuck what people think.

Jump rope like nobody’s watching, bitches.

  1. themonkeywrench said: That is the coolest story ever! Beats my previous claim to fame of loudly singing No Sleep Till Brooklyn while standing out of the t-tops of my buddy’s Z28 as we drove down Main Street. Ahh, youth….I miss those days.
  2. jamiwithani posted this