Two trains of thought on the same track, travelling at 45 and 50 mph…

So … I’m watch­ing Neil Young sing the theme to the Fresh Prince of Bel Air on Jimmy Fal­lon cour­tesy of teh Hulu, and the click­ety click­ety tells me OOOOOH, Pix­ies are play­ing on Jimmy Fal­lon, too.

I can­not abide Jimmy Fal­lon.  Long story.  Don’t ask.  But he does have good musi­cal acts.  So I click on the clip, and they’re play­ing “Debaser.”  Which is awe­some.

Until two dif­fer­ent trains at oppo­site ends of the track leave two dif­fer­ent sta­tions at two dif­fer­ent speeds, one think­ing GODDAMN, the Pix­ies are still awe­some, got to dig out my CDs and lis­ten to them in the car while I too­dle around in my beige ’03 sta­tion wagon pick­ing up gro­ceries for thanks­giv­ing, includ­ing the apri­cot pre­serves for my spe­cial cran­berry chut­ney (ok, fine, Orangette’s, make it, your fam­ily will PLOTZ), and the other train chugs out think­ing things like Black Fran­cis is chunky, I already knew that, and Kim Deal’s hair looks really glossy, and David Lovering’s glasses are neat, kind of German-looking, he looks like that guy in the store yes­ter­day who bought two biogra­phies on Ayn Rand and wouldn’t it be cool if he was, and then … bam.

The trains crashed.

And no, I don’t know where or what time.  I suck at word problems.

No.  I real­ized this.

I am going to pop the Pix­ies into the dash of my sta­tion wagon and rock out while I go pick up my organic gro­ceries for Thanks­giv­ing, when my very cute nephew will eat with his teeth!!! and my Dad will declaim about some­thing and a good time and far, far too much food will be had.

I’m that woman in that VW com­mer­cial from a few years ago– any­one remem­ber that par­tic­u­lar one?  Come on.  You know the one I’m talk­ing about.

And you know what?

It’s awe­some.  I love 35.  I am gonna go put on my women’s col­lege base­ball cap, my clogs and my fleece, and rock out while I pick up some groceries.

Happy Thanks­giv­ing, y’all.