My friend Scott, who is our graphic designer, is in a band. He is a youngster with tattoos and his lip pierced and all sorts of other wild stuff my girls (and son) better not ever dream of doing. There is only one tattoo you can actually see. On his forearm. He is happy to tell you he has another one, but doesn't divulge the location. And that's saying something, when you won't volunteer the location of your mystery tattoo to all the women you work with. However, while he is a wild guitar player by night (bass, to be specific), by day he is as Clark Kent as you can get. Sometimes, he even wears glasses. A rocker. With glasses. Seriously.
Anyway. During the day, Scott plays selections (ooohhh... what an NPR word) from his iPod. I can hear them, since my little "office" is just next door. To his credit, he has quite a diverse playlist. Somedays it's Garth Brooks. Somedays it's Metallica. Somedays it's people I have never, ever heard of. Ever.
So yesterday, he had one of those groups I have never heard of. But I liked. A lot. And today, when I came in - I found a present on my desk. A copy of their CD. Just for me.
Now, mostly, Scott left me this present because, he's out for the next three days, which means I will be doing his job, as little of it as I can, will leave with a massive headache everday and will curse his name at least 1.2 million times before he returns next Wednesday.
In any case, until then, I will be playing my very own Augustana CD. "Can't Love, Can't Hurt." And feeling very, very hip.