The trouble with torture

is that it comes in entirely too many forms. And definitions change from one person to another.

Today, at the office, it came in the form of the "all-new" Journey with Pinoy Pineda on vocals (not that you can tell, he apparently is very good at karaoke), especially "Open Arms," played on loop. Three times now, since the past hour.

Good luck to my sanity, may it enjoy its travels elsewhere. I sincerely hope to see it back by the end of the day, when the last strains of "Don't Stop Believing" fade into the oblivion of the has-beens, that "highway run into the midnight sun" while "wheels go round and round..." Whatever.

Apparently, you can say L-S-S many, many times over, and without your toungue tripping.

*****
If I were more of an opportunist, I'd be charging a rental fee for my headphones, and by the fucking minute. I'd be rich, with my co-workers offering to pay twice the going rate for a 10-minute relief. But self-preservation comes first.

*****
It comes first, but obviously not fast enough.