Dear Christy,
YA-MO-BE-THERE. YA-MO-BE-THERE.
YA-MO-BE-THERE. YA-MO-BE-THERE.
YA-MO-BE-THERE. YA-MO-BE-THERE.
These lyrics of Michael McDonald / lines of Paul Rudd in 40 year old Virgin are dancing through my head like a Star Search gone wrong.
Sure, you've done it before. You've put movie lines or song lyrics into my subconcious. But this time, my friend, it is downright obsessive compulsive. Please keep your damn sing song shit to yourself. Because if my brain sings YAMOBETHERE one more time, I'm gonna YAMO-BLOW THIS PLACE UP!
anxious and sleepy,
ro
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