Seamstress for the Band

My mood is greatly improved, largely due to the discovery of a miraculous radio station. It plays entirely obscure 70s funk, and since it's a school-owned station, there are no commercials beside occasional news reports on the Texas lege. Here are some examples of the songs I heard [note: I am not paraphrasing for emphasis; any and all misquotes are unintentional]:

"Just stick out your thumb and watch the cars go by,
Hitch hitch hitchin' a ride
When one pulls up, give a real big smile,
Hitch hitch hitchin' a ride."

Or:

"I said 'mmmm'
She said 'what?'
I said 'oh yeah'
She said 'all right.'
I said 'let me let me love you'
She's my undercover angel."

There was even a good public service announcement:

"Hey kids! You know what makes a great after-school snack? Watered-down milk!"

It's the best radio station ever. Goes without saying that I can only listen to it in my car; Val would kill me otherwise. She's been very hostile lately. Consider the following conversation from last night:

V: (lying on piano bench) Goddamnit, I'm frustrated. I want to want to do something.

R: (stuffing files back into Wimbledon) I could play some more music, read aloud a bit. . .

V: Nah.

R: We could . . . play Tekken.

V: Nah.

R: You could ride my bike around in the parking lot.

V: Hell no.

R: (taking umbrage) It's a very nice bike!

V: Let it go.

R: (distraught) I don't know that I can!

V: Try.

(a pause)

R: (grudgingly) You could have hot cocoa, only we don't have any milk or any cocoa.

V: (stares at Romie)

R: (grinning like Groucho Marx) Well, it was a suggestion; you'll have to grant me that.

V: (laughing) I hate you so much.

[I was being sarcastic about the Valancy hostility. I only mention because it doesn't always carry well electronically.]