Cake or Death?
Those are the words that are engraved on the back of my iPod. It’s from a comedy routine by the perfect and wonderful Eddie Izzard. If you are not familiar with Eddie, please, please, please, look him up on Netflix or iTunes or something… please! That’s my gift to you.
I’ve hinted at the fact that I am a person who does very well with repetition and when I like something, I really like it and when I loathe something, I really loathe it. For most things, I’m just not a middle of the roader. And I don’t grow tired of the things that I love. So when there is a bit of music or an artist that I adore, I listen to them alot. A lot a lot. A couple of years ago, I discovered an Italian pop singer that I really liked, Filippo Neviani, also known as Nek. I listen to him quite a bit. And lately more than usual. So much so that I have begun to refer to my iPod simply as Filippo.
“Where is Filippo?” “Wait, I have to get Filippo for the drive.” “Filippo needs charging!” “OMG, I almost dropped Filippo!” “I hate the way Filippo falls to the bottom my purse and turns himself on.”
Yesterday I was in Carboy’s truck and Filippo was sitting on the seat next to me. Carboy put the car into reverse and Filippo slid across the leather seats. “Filippo! Oh NO!” Carboy started to laugh so hard, he had to stop the truck.
“It’s an iPod.”
“I think you mean obsessed.”
“No, I definitely mean possessed. And you aren’t actually Italian you know.”
“But I can embrace my inner Italian.”
“Just so long as you aren’t embracing random Italians.”
“That doesn’t sound like much fun.”
“That’s French, but good for when we go to France!”
“Fromaggio. You’re not French either.”
“Perfecto. But I can embrace my inner Frenchie too.”
“They might not enjoy being embraced as much as the Italians.”
“It’s not about them. It’s about me.”
“How could I forget. Is Filippo okay?
“Yeap and ready to sing!”
“Is is possible to listen to something else on the stereo?”
“No. It isn’t. Shhh, Filippo is singing.”