Belle & Sebastian: What Makes a Mean-Spirited Morning Full of Bad Facial Expressions and Hand Gestures, Without Due Cause, Better.

Belle & Sebastian. I've written about these folk before . . . or at least I believe I have  . . . and if not, I'm crazy to not have done so before.  I love them! Absolutely! I love them so much that I had John order me some merchandise via the Internet and have it shipped across the seas . . . which price-wise might seem like a complete mistake . . . but I have to say my Belle & Sebastian coffee cup is my favorite coffee cup . . . even if I only drink tea from it. 

I believe I wrote in my previous post some spiel how Belle & Sebastian is for those times when I'm in one want of all things pure and innocent (kind of like a way to cleanse my soul) which is kind of ironic . . . since the subject matter of their songs is sometimes a little less than pure . . . and probably questionable (but hey, I'm no ninny)  . . . it's just the sound, though . . . it's the sound of something pure, and because of both of these qualities it makes great driving music. 

My favorite instance where Belle & Sebastian is perfect: It's about 7:30 in the morning maybe a little earlier at 7:00 or a little later at 8:00, but not much past those times. You're in you're car on a morning commute 30 miles away . . . driving down the lanes of roadway past the 'burbs . . . there's a light layer of snow coating the ground and your windshield, windows still have patches of frost and ice stuck to them because you didn't have enough time to defrost the car before you left . . . at this time you have some light B&S playing in the background maybe something like "If You Find Yourself Caught in Love" maybe a little "Lord Anthony"  . . . then you finally get to the big road exchange that'll take you to the highway for the longer extent of the commute, and right when your about to pull off onto the highway . . . about to merge into oncoming traffic . . . you can't. Why? Because somebody from these damn Midwestern states is driving 25 mph on the highway, completely freaking out about the snow layer and on the ground that was left over from a snowy incident four days prior . . . they don't even try to switch over to the many other four lanes, with virtually no traffic on them, to allow you to merge . . . therefore, you have to break, come to a stop, and allow them to pass . . . and then while they're passing they become rather rude, flash you a mean glare and rather rude hand gesture . . .  enragement (yeah I know it's not a word) on your side ensues . . . allowing that the light side of B&S no longer fits, so you can immediately switch over to something like "Judy and The Dream of Horses, " We Are the Sleepyheads", or even "Dear Catastrophe Waitress" to better suit the mood. 

Of course, this situation is clearly circumstantial . . . and applies really only to . . . well, me, but hey, it still fits . . . and I'd say try it if you ever happen to . . . but I know nobody else will ever happen to be in the same.  Therefore, I will pacify you with pictures for making you read such a long and pointless story. 

So, yeah. It's dinner time . . . yes, John and I are eating an early dinner, because John's practicing with his whole multi-course dinners . . . you salad, soup, dessert . . . main entrees and everything . . . all because his parent's are coming over for a weekend stay (this weekend . . . I've forgotten to tell) and unlike last time we're not going to take them out to eat . . . but instead will be staying in to highlight the new kitchen John has to work his magic in. He's making some crazy traditional Norwegian cuisine . . . to impress them (probably to say hey, I still remember the homeland or something . . . (sheesh, that was kind of mean-spirited of me . . . it was all said in jest)). Anyways, we'll see how it goes . . . hopefully well.