Is this the week I write 2500 words on Drake and other hip hop?

Last night, with Leen's help and keen eye, we decided which clothes to toss and which to keep. This meant trying on everything in my closet and deciding whether to throw it away, donate it, or keep it.

She took one look at my tongue—the same one I've had for all 37 years of my life—and said, "Oh yeah, you've got a hairy tongue. It's a bad name, but it just means your taste buds are big, and you can collect tastes and yucky stuff more easily."

While neither a mandated return nor a suggested hybrid option has been announced, I get the impression they'd really like people to come to check out our new spot and work from there for a bit.

Here I was, January 2006, trying to get someone to enjoy the You Only Live Once alternate version of "I'll Try Anything Once" and getting no takers. I lamented to an older friend that none of my friends wanted to listen to the Strokes with me, and he said, "Get new friends." 

Then he sent me a link to a Facebook Group called "I Listen To Better Music Than Everyone Not In This Group." 

And voila, that's the day I became a music snob.