So the other day I was getting some gas for my car at a gas station downtown. It was one of those new fangled stations where they play music at the pump, and in between songs the fire more advertising at you. It was cold and it had snowed several days before, but the clean soft snow look was long gone, and now it was that dirty, filth covered, frozen snow. And it's an industrial area with lots of trucks so it's even worse. But the station itself is actually pretty nice.
So, anyway, there's music playing, and they've got an eighties theme going. The company probably paid lots of money to have marketing tests done to find out which music would weaken their target customers. Get them to feel all soft and happy and nostalgic, and then hit them with the ad and make them come in and buy some beef jerky and diet Coke or whatever. Or get so lost in the music that you forget that you only meant to buy ten dollars worth of gas and the meters cranking up to twenty five now.
I'm rocking the debit card when it happens.
The Go-Go's come on. "Our Lips Are Sealed."
I love The Go-Go's.
I could never be a super spy because if I were ever caught and going to be interrogated all they'd have to do was play some Go-Go's and I'd feel all smiley and happy and loose all self control and start spilling state secrets or missile launch codes or whatever.
I'm pumping gas and I have this almost out of control desire to start dancing. In my big barn coat and my clodhopper boots and I'm surrounded by utility trucks and grime and it's cold and my car is 10 years old and covered with salt spray and mud and in my minds eye I'm dancing around like some insane parody of an 80's music video. Plus I'm a fat dude.
I actually think this would look pretty funny. Like a nightmare version of a Whitesnake video, where instead of a sexy, barely dressed woman seductively crawling all over a pristine sports car, you'd have a fat middle aged guy "seductively" rolling over his station wagon. At a gas station. In the winter.
Huh. Makes me laugh.
By the way, for those keeping track of our ages; The Go-Go's are in their fifties.