Yes, I've been E&T. Bitchslap me, see if I care.
Now, as for cheap excuses, let me cite my work schedule, der Grampa having been enlisted as grandladsitter for the entire week, and a bout of depression. When I'm running through a bout of depression, I find it's a lot safer to stay away, lest I write things I may regret later.
Due to the work schedule, I've only had one day off this week, and that was spent backing up der Grampa on his grandladsitting duties. That was yesterday. The grandlads were terribly antsy all day, and der Grampa had been given a whole list of errands to run by his daughter, Magic Mommy. Alex, the elder grandlad, insisted that we put one of his favorite CDs on the car CD player, a disc by country singer Toby Keith.
I'm a little sick of Toby Keith, personally. Too much of his material is about drinking and objectifying women, especially women who drink. I mean, sure, it's fun to listen to every once in a while, but somehow it's not a world view that I share.
So, one of our first stops for errandizing was at the Dover WalMart. Both grandlads had money burning in their pockets, and der Grampa agreed to let them spend it as they pleased in the toy department. Just don't expect him to add to their cash if they wanted to spend more than they had, he growled.
While at WalMart, I checked out their CD department. The best way to subvert Alex's taste for Toby would be to introduce him to some other country artist. Like Trace Adkins, I thought. So I picked up his latest disc for something like eight bucks, and when we got back to the car took out the Keith and put in the Adkins.
Alex was not impressed. Toby Keith is his fav-o-rite country singer, in his informed opinion the best, and he wasn't going to change his opinion about that.
We had a couple of other stops before heading for a snack at the local Friendly's. I asked Alex what other country singers he knew of. Well, Toby Keith, of course. And Adkins, who he thought had the first name Rodney. And... well, he couldn't think of any others.
Garth Brooks? Never heard of him. Alan Jackson? Nope. Reba MacEntire? Uh-uh. Glen Campbell, Willie Nelson, Tim McGraw, Dolly Parton, all of 'em led him to give me a blank stare. Johnny Cash? Sounded like some hippy, just based on the name.
Alex is like this. He decides that something is the best, and can't be bothered with trying anything else. He ONLY likes certain things. He ONLY likes grilled cheese sandwiches. He ONLY likes Toby Keith. He ONLY likes the Magic Treehouse series of books. And he digs his heels in when we suggest he might like to try anything else. I mean, really gets stubborn.
I suppose it's his way of controlling the world he lives in, and Magic Mommy and Daddy don't make things any easier for him. They don't listen to music themselves, ever, and if he has music on in the house he has to listen to it wearing headphones.
I suppose I'm going to have to search the bargain bins for examples of other singers, just to give him some exposure to what is out there.
If I'm lucky, his brother William will decide that he likes some of the other artists.
