It’s like radio stations. It goes like this. You’re in your car listening to the soothing sound of Joni Mitchell singing about skating on a river and everything is lovely and perfect and Joni Mitchell is your spirit animal and you are closing your eyes and singing about skating away and then. And then your fucking teenage girl gets in the car and could give a rat’s ass about your nirvana and she changes that channel and all of a sudden you’re hearing Nikki Manaj “singing” about eating someone’s ass like a cupcake.
And you’re just like what in the ever loving fuck just happened here? Everything was calm and sublime and beautiful and perfect and then all of a sudden you want to stick knives in your ears to stop you from hearing the absolute horrific noise on the radio with lyrics and voices so bad you want to unhear them. But you can’t. Because your teenage girls make it louder. Because of course they do. And then they keep changing the channel so you don’t know whether someone’s eating someone’s ass out of a cupcake or if Selena Gomez is dating Justin bieber again or if Miley Cyrus is good or bad. And you really just don’t care. You just want to close your eyes and let Joni Mitchell skate you across a frozen river for just a few more minutes. But you can’t, because you have teenage girls and life is not like a box of chocolates, it’s like the radio.