so there i was, sleeping the sleep of the damned on the railroad when the bastard get rousted at forest hills stop. the old hood. soon to be my hood again but, that's another story for another time. anyway, rousty sits down next to me and she gets settled and i decide i'm going to IM high school to ask how her bbq went last week and rousty starts singing to herself. so, very demonstratively, i takes out the bastard pod. i unroll the headphones in the most obvious manner possible and put it on and proceed to blast gomez through my ears. she starts miss thinging her head around and i keep the magic coming. what's the moral of the story? well it's twofold my lovelies. firstly, always keep some kind of white noise handy to drown out society. and secondly, my dear, no matter how good you think your singing voice is, i can guarantee you that NO ONE wants to hear you singing during their commute. it's rude. please think twice about how excited you are about jesus and keep it inside. that's why they call it an inner voice.