- "Beatles or Stones?" - said Guy Who Was Driving next to Hot Guy I Was Trying to Impress.
- "Beatles!" - said my 17 Year-old Self who, at the time, happened to be wearing a terrible, poor-taste looking Beatles t-shirt.
Of course my 17 Year-old Self had never heard any Stones song that hadn't been predictably played on the average rock n'rollish radio station or (even worse!) at the average rock n'rollish bar (in fact, my 17 Year-old Self got stupid drunk with 2 cans of beer and wore Hello Kitty tank tops for fuck's sake!)
Thankfully, a dog year later I'm proud to say I no longer accept the question "Beatles or Stones?" as an answer-worthy query, but instead I find it as a fantastic tool to discard people from my life in a clean, easy way.
And, thankfully, a dog year later I'm proud to say I've listened to what I believe (at least that's what Wikipedia says) it is the entire Rolling Stones discography once and again, once and again, and have cried and laughed and lain down and danced and twirled and sang and enjoyed like my ears got fucked (I totally stole that expression from someone).
So today I'm wishing a phenomenal, wonderful birthday to the gorgeous English men that saved my life and I believe, many, many others.
I love you and will proudly carry you on my skin until I donate my body to Science.