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So you read about the bath soaps, yeah. Recently, though, I've begun to notice something else somewhere along those lines, yet more insidious in its effects: this time the problem isn't fruity soap but soapy pop melodies. Er... if, that is, 'soapy' has any meaning in that context. Really they're just plain pop melodies, but that turn of phase isn't clever at all, nor catchy.

Now the tunes, on the other hand, are catchy, as per order, and the last few days I've been catching them alot more than I would like. We can't wholly blame Leah for this, though, because since I control the primary means of music-listening in our abode, I usually get to select the day's tunes and make her listen to my noisy squonking non-pop. Which she takes very well, I must say, with nary a complaint. So she's entirely innocent in the pollution of my brain by commercial radio's sugary ditties.

No, the problem (this week anyways) lies in the amount of time I spent at that store, where Leah is in the majority as far as musical tastes are concerned, and where pop music over the store's speakers is the norm. And then, since I was working all those hours listening to pop, I was unable to be home listening to whatever else I usually listen to; and the end result is, fragments of two or three tunes took up permanent residence in my head over the past couple days. What were they, you ask? Well, I prefer not to relive those particular memories (it's dangerous, if nothing else: haven't you ever heard of a relapse?!), but I seem to recall Hilary Duff's song about 'Let the rain fall down' featured prominantly, as did Justin Timberlake's song about breaking up with Britteny. Which I can't think of the title to right now, nor the tune thank goodness.

Yes, a little pop has its place now and then, but my disposition simply can't handle it for exended periods of time. I'm like an aboriginal native as far as pop is concerned, or a newborn baby: all too suceptible due to my lack of exposure to the contagion. But thankfully, pop is unlike smallpox in that the recovery time is swift and nearly complete. Plus, no one ever said smallpox had a good beat, and I'm sure you'd be hard-pressed to dance to it.

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