Tricky

I never thought I’d have my own column in a respected national music magazine, much less Lollipop, but my older brother told me the response from my first review (the same one that got me my first C+ in Creative Writing) was galvanized or something. I looked up the word in the dictionary and it said “to cover with zinc to protect from moisture.” I don’t know why they’d do that, but I’m happy to see it’s not getting wet. Anyway, my brother came into my room a couple weeks ago, dropped a stack of CDs on my bed, and said “Here. This should keep you busy. Stop calling my house.” I must say, I’m surprised at how easy this rock critic thing is – except for the fact that I had to pay attention to the CDs so I could review them, it’s been simple as pie. I’m not sure what kind of pie. Not pecan, that’s for sure. They hurt my teeth.

The piece of paper that came with this called this “trip-hop.” That reminds me of the time I played the Easter Bunny at my school, right, and I couldn’t really see ’cause they only had one bunny costume and the eyeholes weren’t high enough and stuff, so I tried to hippity-hop like I was told to do but I tripped and broke both my front teeth and that dumb kid Jimmy kept calling me “Broken Teeth,” which I have to admit was pretty clever, and I kinda wet the bunny suit and stuff so they had to go get it dry-cleaned and my dad had to pay for it and then some guy stole it from the place and got arrested later ’cause I guess he cut a hole in it and used to go to the park and show people his… oh, darn, the CD’s over already. It’s pretty good, I guess.