I am not alone in the world. You see, I’ve been in more than my share of arguments about going out to a bar or club and how I picky I am about where I want to go. I can’t go to places with shitty music. I just can’t. It drives me insane. I can’t enjoy myself. People say I’m just exaggerating or being difficult and I wish it were the case, but it’s quite simple: if there’s shitty music, I’m not having fun. I can’t ignore it. I can’t block it out. It’s there and it’s awful and it makes me want to fight people.
If you clicked the link, you’ll see that somewhere else in the world there’s someone with this same complex who wrote a little comic about it. So next time I refuse to go to the Irish Pub or Silk City or all other manner of poorly DJ’d watering hole, you’ll know I’m not being difficult. I’m saving you the trouble of dealing with me being forced to hear Counting fucking Crows.
On the converse, if we go someplace with good music, you get to be around someone who is almost unreasonably happy and excited all the time. So it goes both ways, really.
