I daydream. A lot (it’s probably why I don’t get a lot of stuff done).
Maybe it’s because I’m an only child and had to find amusing ways to entertain myself, especially while on car trips with my parents who would bicker about the actual speed limit. According to my dad, if the speed limit says 65, it actually means 75. I’d like to see the old chap argue that one in court.
While Carl was chatting away yesterday about guitar amps and pedals, I nodded my head occasionally and said uh huh a few times while my mind wandered.
What if some horribly evil enemy of Carl’s captured me while I was perusing the cereal selection at Target and tortured me for information about him? How far would I go to protect Carl?
They could beat the living daylights out of me, shave off all my hair and force me to watch Days of Our Lives, but at the 12 hour mark, hunger and thirst would set in and I’d fucking sing like a canary.
This is what I’d do for love. It’s frightening really. Good thing I’ve got Carl’s back.
On a related note, I asked Carl what it was Meat Loaf wouldn’t do for love:
Carl: Why the fuck would I know?
Me: Don’t you like that song?
Carl: I swear, sometimes it feels like we don’t even live with one another.
Me: I bet he wouldn’t be a smartass.
Carl: I bet he wouldn’t get married.
Me: You know, your enemies wouldn’t have to torture me at all because I’d fucking tell them everything even before they asked.