gimme freebird or gimme death!

i finish teaching my spinning (not in circles, noy whirling dervishes) class. it's bleakly so cal hot. i rode into the wall of heat, poured sweat, and assaulted it with my baddest ass cd mix. now, i'm spent, headachy, hungry. the mona cranky-meter is set to 11. but then, a ray of moonlight sunshine, dressed in tight biking shorts and a u.s. postal service jersey pulls me aside.

moonlight sunshine man- "i didn't want to do this in front of the class, because i'm respectful.'

me- "oh, what is it?"

m.s.m.- "you know the phrase 'music makes the class?' yours ruins it. nobody wants that head banger or rap stuff. people want music with a beat, something uplifting."

me- "mmm?"

m.s.m.- "something like 93.3 classic rock. or maybe 95.7 the beat. contemporary music. have you heard of the internet? you could download wonderful music and have a nice little class. one day. are you hearing me?"

me- "mmm-hmmm."

m.s.m.- but when you get that new mix. with some skynnard. it'll be great. sure you'll lose the 18 year olds. but who wants them?"

with that, moonlight sunshine man vanishes back into hell's oven night.

gimme all the bad, unsolicited advice you have to offer. come on, you've got some. or maybe you'd just like a copy of my malformed 'head banging/rap' cd? don't think i won't send it over. i will.

or maybe you're looking for a date. i'm pretty sure mr. sunshine's single.