Whie we were driving to Brian’s parents’ house I noticed that Brian was singing along to the radio. It was System of a Down’s “B.Y.O.B.” and he was barely mumbling the words under his breath.<\/p>\n
“Come on. You can do better than that,” I goad Brian. “If you’re going to sing along, you need to sing out loud, like you mean it.” I tell him while making exaggerated hand gestures like hyped up crack fiend.<\/p>\n
“What is wrong with you?”<\/p>\n
“Nothing. I’m just saying. I can barely hear you when you sing along to the radio.”<\/p>\n
On the way home from dinner at Brian’s parents’ house, Brian turned the radio to B98<\/a> (they play “the right mix” of soft rock and a good selection of oldies, which everyone knows I like). I thought that was really sweet and thoughtful because usually I have to beg and plead and often even fight him to change the station.<\/p>\n There was one day we ended up wrestling in the car while parked at a Sonic stall. He was trying to hold my arms down so I couldn’t change the radio station and I had my legs raised so that my big toe could push the button. We looked like a couple of boisterous five year olds, roughhousing inside the car. I bet the other people there thought we were a couple of nut jobs.<\/p>\n