Tunes

I just started typing some stuff about romance books covers but K left his i-pod (hehe, don't laugh now K!) on the table next to the keyboard so I thought I better listen to what he's got. He offered it to me at first and I refused because music is different language to me and I can't understand any of it, or tune, whatever.

He's now next to me, exaggeratingly excited about the bread he's made 3 hours ago, i mean the bread his breadmaker made 3 hours ago. And I'm eating like I hadn't eaten a whole kaldero of rice with corned-beef earlier. Corned beef by the way, as K reminded me, is a working man's food, and I thought surely not. It's 45pesos in Surigao, more expensive than fresh fish!

Anyway, back to the Tunes. I couldn't understand for the life of me how some people can walk in streets while listening to their music. What if there's a huge lorry (that's truck or 10-wheeler for you, mam betut) behind me driven by a maniac? I would surely be catapulted into oblivion, like a member of Tweenies riding in an open-top propeller-less helicopter, just because of some bleeping Norman Greenbaum or Steve Harley or Helen Westenra (is she ever on i-pods?) or Avril Lavigne.

No. I put the i-pod back on the table, gingerly, next to my keyboard. Zak is coughing in his bed next room.