Me (in Mike’s kitchen mixing a pitcher of bloody marys for a bbq full of people): Agh!! What’s coming out of the speakers? What the hell is that? Is that electroclash? Is someone playing ELECTROCLASH?? What the fuck?? Are my ears bleeding? Make it stop!!!
Mike (already sprinting in from the back yard): I’m on it, I’m on it!!
Me: Agggggghhhhh!! I’m melting! It burns! It’s horrible!!
Mike (hastily scrolling through the music list): I’m moving as fast as I can!!
Drew (rolling his eyes): It has to be something from the narrow window of 1970 to 1978 or she’ll never shut up.
Steven Tyler from the speakers: HUH! Write me a letter, write me a letter today…
Drew: God, you are such a brat, Mary.
Mike: Sshh, you’ll ruin her concentration! More tobasco?
Disconnected, very gay voice from the back yard: What happened to the music??
MISS ANTHROPE'S HOUSE OF HIGH DRAMA 