After a recent post alluded to a broken couch and a fantasy concert incident, I’ve gotten a couple of questions about the situation. There are actually several separate incidents of music and furniture destruction, and I will be glad to share them with you so that you can see my innate dorkiness and rich fantasy life.

When Prince mania was at its height and the Purple Rain album had just come out, I was living with my grandparents. I had taken a brief detour in my metal-lovin’ music choices due to the large number of hip-hop friends I was hanging with. And one night, while Grandma was cooking dinner, I turned on my Purple Rain cassette tape and did a singing and dancing concert for the imaginary thousands of fans screaming my name in my bedroom. At the end of “I Would Die 4U”, I did a dance-kick that snapped off the top of a small bookcase. I still have that bookcase, but I no longer have the album (wait, maybe I do…I’ll have to check the garage).

Several years later, there was a Classic Rock Comeback Tour in my living room. My air guitar moves would have been especially entertaining to anyone who actually knew how to play a guitar. After several final chords and a scream, I leapt on my couch with both knees. The couch legs snapped off, and the couch slammed to the floor. When I moved out eventually, I had to explain the deep gouges in the hardwood floor.

But there’s more! Last year I had a giant party for an unnamed milestone birthday, and there was much wine. There was also karaoke and I sang some duets. That is, until I stumbled to my feet and forgot I was still holding onto the microphone. Which I had just ripped out of the machine.

Music hurts, and it would kill if it could.

Tell me your music stories, I wanna hear!