Tuesday, July 12, 2005

See, My Mom Always Sang "September Morn" to Me, 'Cause I Was Born In September, But Not in the Morn. Close Enough.

Last night, the subject of first albums came up. I think everyone was sufficiently lubricated to make their highly embarrassing confessions, except I don't know what my excuse was, because I strolled in late and was at least one drink behind the rest of the gang.

In the third grade, I won the school spelling bee with "developer." I was given a choice: gift certificate to Waldenbooks or The Wherehouse (music store). For reasons I still don't understand to this day, I chose The Wherehouse. Maybe I thought it was time to beef up my record collection. Until that point, I was a voracious reader, so much that all of my report cards in grade school pretty much say the same thing: "A good student, but is more interested in reading her books than paying attention in class." Yes, I should have been flogged. Reading! For shame!

Anyway, my family and I headed over to the mall one Saturday, and after browsing through the racks a bit, I settled on "Heartlight" by Neil Diamond. And that, friends, was my first album.

Go ahead, you know you want to do the "loser" cough.