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- Once upon a time, back when the internet was still interesting, I came across this British musician guy who was faintly Nick-Drakey in a painful sort of way. You could send him an email and his mom would send you his CDs in the mail for free. Which I did. I wonder if his mother ever sat around shaking her head proudly telling this story to her friends about how girls from America were asking for her son's CDs. Her son's music made it all the way to America! I just googled the guy and found a new song of his from five years ago or so and he sounds the same as he did way back then. It's the kind of music you'd expect in the background of a scene of a made-for-TV movie that you're starring in when you've just broken up with your jerk of a boyfriend and now you're at some folksy shop in a New England town that you're visiting with your two best friends but what you're searching for you can't find in a store and then you go for a solitary and slightly-angsty walk down a wooded path back to your Airbnb and nothing will change for you ever! Your weekend trip away doesn't turn out like you thought it would so you go back to your upscale New York City law firm job and mope and sigh and your scrappy little dog is as depressed as you are! On a whim you book a flight to England to find this goddamn musician guy. The weather is miserable and you go to this dingy pub and there he is playing his boring, depressing songs in a corner and no one's listening to him. After, you go introduce yourself, because you figure this is what's supposed to happen. But he sucks! He's as boring as his music! THIS is what's supposed to happen in this made-for-TV movie? You're confused, so you go back to your hotel room, and on the way there you trip and nearly fall into a puddle, but you are caught by a handsome gentleman. He seems so familiar! Where have you met him before? Suddenly it dawns on you - he was in that shop in the New England town that you were visiting with your two best friends! You were admiring that Deep South glass and clucking about how you just can't get good Deep South glass anywhere anymore. It turns out that he makes the Deep South glass and you're Reese Witherspoon and the soundtrack changes so it's not that boring guy anymore. Oh, it's Lynyrd Skynyrd now, sorry. We've gone off-rail. I'm sick, it's cold, I'm staying home tomorrow.
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