sometimes, it's the little things that push me over the edge
Alice has been home sick the last few days and Matt and I have barely had a chance to shout obscenities at each other as we passed off child care shifts. The benefit of owning your own business is that you can make up your eight hours in the evening. But the downfall of owning your own business? That you end up working in the evening when you could be doing more productive things like..oh...catching up on American Idol.
Surprisingly, I've been super efficient the last few days and have actually managed to cope with the stress without resorting to my old friends Ativan or Masi. Oh I sighed pretty heavily and sworn a few times under my breath, but for the most part I've stayed pretty calm.
Until tonight, when I saw (or rather - heard) this.
Oh Ben Gibbard (and the other guy from the Postal Service) just what the FUCK are you doing? Look, I understand that bands sometimes do the whole commercial licensing thing (remember the whole uproar over that Moby album, anyone?) I get it, and usually I don't raise a wagging finger. But god, you have taken a song that is important to me and destroyed it. It's one of the only songs that I truly could play at any time of the day and manage to smile. And I know you don't know me and you don't owe this little blogger anything but I feel I must tell you how let down I felt when I saw that commercial. All of the impatience that has simmered inside me for the past few days as I've doted on a sick child has now risen to the surface. In a pile of rage.
What's left for me now, Ben, WHAT'S LEFT FOR ME NOW?