While smoking in the staircase, and moving my feet and allowing Prefuse 73 to swing my body and wave it to its catchy tune, i had shattered my future — the in-ear headphones had welcomed the sight of a woman who was passing through with a blank face. The little dancing of mine was mortifying, if my father were white as ghost white, or my mother weren’t a tan-skinned Malay, or i were born albino, my cheeks would have been really pink and i would have been kicked to death by this woman for dancing in the staircase.
Embarrassed, i apologized to her, “I’m sorry”.
Her blank face turned sharp, and it cut time precisely into 70 million micro seconds and i was trapped in one of those seconds and if i could remember correctly, i turned into a tiny chicken and she was a green monster, and tall, and bigger than me and wanted to eat my big hair (but i was a chicken with a big hair i swear!) before she would kick me to death with its giant feet for dancing in the staircase. And if this story was exaggerated, at least i was doing my best being imaginative. I imagined her eating me (I secretly believed she really wanted to kick me).
But the tall green monster of my imagination might have imagined “What was this guy thinking dancing in the staircase”. Well, if you can read my thoughts you big bully because i’ve written it for you, you were a green monster and tall and i was a tiny chicken with big hair! Don’t eat my big hair, woman!
I went back into the office, ok, i sneaked into the office because i didn’t want my boss to know that i took a ciggie break, and read my emails, and perhaps cursed a little, perhaps i cursed more than just a little, i came to an email that said something about winning a contest to meet All American Rejects. To be honest, i laughed out loud. To be honest, i might lost my job for writing like this. To be honest, i don’t have any savings. But who really cares how much money i can or cannot make, or the money i have right now, or the money i might forever lose.
All American Rejects?, I thought. Are they that bad until they name themselves All American Rejects?
I went to Digi Music website, and cursed again, and asked my colleagues to laugh with me because i didn’t like All American Rejects outfits but they didn’t laugh at their outfits, so i cursed again, and in all twirling honesty of mine, i found simplicity.
Registration was mad easy.
All i needed to do was to to put my name and my nickname, and lied about my age while doing that. About 3 years younger. Okay, 6 years younger! Duh! 6 years, big deal! Boohoo!
After i had done with the simplest registration i’ve ever done in my life, and was 6 years younger and proud of it, and you’re probably still reading to whatever i write because i don’t think much when i write, i came to this page;
and thought, “Wahlau, sooooo freaking easy to use! Got buttons here there click click only.”
The first song i played was Fire Burning by Sean Kingston. I got addicted to it. It was really disco, without a doubt, danceable. And i danced again on my chair until Rina waved to me and shouted, “What song are you listening to Firdy?”
“Oh, this Fire Burning 911 song.” I pulled the earphones from my laptop and increased the volume of the speakers before told her, “You know, this Digi Music thing is really easy to use. So freaking easy! And downloads are free! Unlimited!”
Before i told Rina about it, i told Vernice about how much i liked this little website, through instant message. Here’s the screenshot of what i told to Vernice.
I had told most of my colleagues about it, about how i could create playlists and share songs and download to either my computer or phone, or both if i wanted to, and i went searching for Prefuse 73.
I found a track by Prefuse 73, and i played a track by All American Rejects and i liked it.
Digi Music = Awesome.
