We've lived in this house (my childhood home) for 12 years now. The ice cream man, every fucking summer, plays the same song, over and over again as he goes up and down the blocks in my neighborhood. The same fucking song, all day long, all summer long, the same fucking song for 12 years. Only Mrs. F is standing between me (armed with a Russian RPG-7) and him dying in a flaming wreck of a vehicle (after the RPG detonates when it hits the Softee machine). Yeah, so I got a couple issues.
So I can totally understand this. Heh ...
Update:
Just to make clear, I don't want the ice cream man to leave. I just want him to change the fucking song once a year.
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