1995

For several months in 1995, I lived in a really crummy apartment with two guys, a doberman, the ugliest yellow stucco walls, and million cockroaches. We didn't have many CDs and every now and again, I'll hear a song and be transported back to those months and the music we listened to over and over. Ween's Voodoo Lady and I'm right back there remembering the good times. Anything from Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness and I feel trapped, miserable and like I have a Jagermeister hang-over again. Or maybe everyone feels that way when listening to that album?

One album though, while I rarely listen to it, often comes to mind when I feel like someone is invading my personal space. In addition to the ugly walls and cockroaches, we also had an annoying landlord. He took forever to unclog a sink or fix a toilet and always made a point to snoop around when he was there. One day when he was over doing something or another, I decided the best way to make him want to leave as soon as possible was to put on John Frusciante.