This is such a cruel song. If there really was a place I could go live and spend all day wasting away...no job, no responsibilities...just look for my lost shaker of salt all afternoon and then maybe take a swim. I wouldn't even care if I stepped on a pop-top and blew out my flip-flop. I might even get a new tatoo...
That's right, it's been stuck in my head for over 32 hours now. And people wonder why I'm so irritable sometimes. Jimmy Buffett wrote that song the year I was born and my parents used that as an excuse to expose me to it literally thousands of times. And now I'm an alcoholic. Call CPS. A point of interest: I wrote this whole post, then I looked up a link to the lyrics to check them, since I wasn't 100% sure "pop-top" was right. I had no idea, nor do I even now, what in the hell he's talking about about the sponge cake. Traditional island fare?
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