n.e.r.d. (annie, are you ok?)

Okay, so in reality, I’m a fairly sheltered white girl. My musical tastes run to Radiohead, Arab Strap, Jem and Faithless. I’m very sure that Thom York is going to be my second husband, but only if Jonathan Rhys-Meyers doesn’t get to me first.

The thing is, I’ve got this visceral appreciation for NERD. Pharell crooning about sneaking through my window gets me a little weak in the knees, even though I know the result of that would be my husband first freaking out and then attempting to kick the shit out of the intruder. Of course, the husband might be blinded by the bling and subdued by the flash of Pharell’s massive diamond earrings. (The husband has this philosophy of brawling that was honed in the dust of his Marrakech neighborhood. He slides his hands down his slender torso and says “I might be small, but I’ll grab whatever is next to me and beat your ass with it.) (It occurs to me that, at this point, I’d probably be the thing next to him and I make a very poor weapon.)

Anyway, I don’t imagine Pharell will be sneaking in my window any time soon, but “Am I High‿ has this sly sensibility that I’m very fond of this week. It’s actually a little dirty.

So I sit in my office like a proper girl with my little target light shining and my headphones on just waiting for the moment when the CD spins around to “Didn’t you know I can help or hurt you/So there’s no reason to lie.‿ And no one suspects me of being anything other than a punctuation freak.

(Don’t get me started on my other dirty little secret: Murder on the Dance Floor by Sophie Ellis Bextor Or early 80’s Michael Jackson. Annie, are you okay?)

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n.e.r.d. (annie, are you ok?)

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