#288 – Burned

Because Sophia doesn’t share my fascination with technology, I tend to underestimate her knowledge of electronics and computers. I rarely give her credit in those areas, even though she’s repeatedly demonstrated a grasp of the basic principles. Burning music CDs is just one example.

I don’t appreciate when my wife takes me for granted. Lately, she’s been riding my ass like I’m her pet pony, and ordering me about as if I’m her indentured servant. When I’m not hearing “Richard, will you put your books in the basement?,” I’m getting “Hang up your clothes in the closet already!” Earlier this week, she even pestered me to clean up the media room: my man cave! In my view, the fact that I let her watch TV there doesn’t give her license to whine about the cocktail table’s clutter!

I finally snapped after she appropriated my car for the week. Did she ask permission to use my vehicle? No, she did not! She simply commandeered the machine, after informing me she needed its four doors to accommodate the out-of-town business guests she’d be chauffeuring.

In typical Richard Stern fashion, I decided to take the low road and teach her a lesson. I went online Sunday and searched for certain thematically linked songs to download and burn to a CD. Upon completing my masterpiece, I popped the disc into my car’s player and cranked up the volume for Sophia’s listening pleasure.

She didn’t say a word about the CD after returning from work on Monday. Nonetheless, I felt sure she’d listened to it, since the cold shoulder she offered me left no better explanation. Her silent treatment didn’t bother me though, buoyed as I’d become by the success of my juvenile payback. Inwardly, I answered every frosty glare with a self-satisfied smirk at the song titles she’d played, in the collection I called “Nagger’s Revenge,” including these immortal tunes:

“Always Naggin’” by The Del Royals;

 “Shut Your Trap” by Living Legend – Certified D-Boy;

“(Kiss) my Southern Ass” by Mississippi;

and, in case the message hadn’t sunk in yet;

“Stick it Where the Sun Don’t Shine” by Nick Lowe

Sophia finished driving my car yesterday. This morning, I took it to run errands. The music greeting me when I turned on the ignition did not emanate from my newest disc, however, but from a single-song CD burned and inserted by my wife. 

I didn’t realize Sophia knew how to burn a CD. And judging by the tune she selected, I may have underestimated more than her technological savvy. Specifically, I fear she’s a tad more pissed at my prank than I’d expected. That assumption certainly seems justified, given the message conveyed by her song’s title:

 “Play with Yourself Until You Faint” by Regrets


An album with at least one colorful song title

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