Alec is in Sydney on a business trip, and is spoiling me as usual by offering to buy me some records. While he did a pretty decent job of choosing stuff on his own the last time, picking music for someone else really is a tough job (even when that someone isn’t the picky, snobbish bitch I am) and I wanted to make it easier on him this time by giving him a usable list. A little Googling led me to The Record Store, which usefully lists some of its inventory online, so I looked through what they had, made my list and emailed it off to him.
I looked through the list again today, and suddenly realized that I’ve inadvertently set Alec up for a Simpsonsesque conversation with the record store staff, like so:
- “Hi, I’m looking for Hot Sex On A Platter!”
- “Do you have Hardcore Girls available?”
- “Excuse me, could you help me find Hustler?”
- “How much is Ganja?”
Hee. I do feel a bit bad about this, but I figure he should just be grateful I’m not into DJ Assault. Also, not all the records on my list have such loaded titles. Some are totally un-embarrassing to ask for, like Humpty Dance.