My Thoughts On Grunge Music

I have a bit of a strangely, warped sense of humor.  I use it often.  I love the story of the Emperor's New Clothes if that tells you anything and find the most humorous part when he realized he is standing in his underwear.  I loved dressing my cat up in doll clothes and pushing him around in a stroller (sorry Cashew, if cat's could be Saints you would have been one, I love you).  I am really not normal.  I won't apologize for it, though.  I enjoy it. 

My son is a musician.  Good musicians listen to various genres to add to and improve their musical style of playing.  My son has been listening to and playing some grunge.  I am not a fan of grunge.  I used to be, but it's too "angry emo" for me.  However, today he wanted me to critique a song that he and a friend wrote.  Well, being the good Mom, I did.  And being the one with the warped sense of humor, I critiqued it in my own way resulting in my interpretation of grunge:

Grunge Music = You’re a jerk.  You know you’re a jerk.  I’m going to stay calm about it though.  Maybe.  Well, you did kind of piss me off.  I may raise my voice a little.  Ok, I’m raising it a little more.  I’m emo.  You’re not like me you emotionless jerk.  That makes me mad.  I’m raising my voice more.  Louder.  A little louder.  A lot louder.  My guitar string broke.  Ok, that calmed me down.  I am ok.  Because I yelled.  I am calm again.  I need prozac.  And anger management.  But not as bad as you.  Because you’re a jerk.  Ok, now I am mad again.  I am raising my voice again.  And louder.  And this feels great, louder.  And another string breaks.  Dang it.  I’m singing lower again.  I’m tired of singing lower and then louder.  I think I will fade out.  Like your love for me.  You jerk.  

I hope my son practices polka next.  I just love a good challenge.