Whiny Warehouse

The Brazilian made me laugh on Friday. I was in charge of driving from church to reception, head squished up against the roof of the car – I didn’t factor in the height of the hat versus that of the car when I was drooling over that gorgeous piece of millinery.

(Mental note to self: buy new car next time plan to wear hat. See if the Pope will do an exchange: Corolla with low mileage for Papal People-carrier).

So we’re driving anyway, me craning my neck every now and then to check the mirrors when out of the iPod bursts forth the velvet tones of the late great Amy.

“You know, I don’t much like her, hon”.

Oh?

“Yeah, that girl, Whiny Warehouse. I don’t like much her voice”.

Cue a brief moment of silence in the car while I swallowed gulps of laughter, all the while shoulders heaving resulting in much zig-zagging of the vehhhhhicle.

‘Tis a wonder we got there in one piece.

I’m still chuckling four days on.

For what it’s worth, be she Amy or Whiny, I still love that girl’s voice.

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