Respect David Byrne.

I don't like song covers. If I do like a song that is a cover, it is usually because I am unaware of the original artist because they are old as dirt or they obviously didn't get to be as successful as the band I'm listening to who is covering the song. If it's the case of the former, I like to keep that little nugget of information about the original artist in my pocket to bring out and use condescendingly whenever I'm with someone who says they like the cover.

If you're going to sample a song, or straight up cover it without even attempting to showcase your "talent," then you ought to do your research, and give the song some respect. Don't pick a superstar to cover, then go off pitch or speed up the tempo. Don't change it to another style of music (ie. rock to country, reggae to electronica) unless you're Norah Jones. Norah Jones can do whatever she wants. Don't cover the Talking Heads.

David Byrne is off his rocker. No one is really on his mental level, and as a superfan, I can't even say I try to be. His musical genius deserves to be left untouched, and no one wants to hear your dumb "I-can-be-weird-too" version of it. Why would you think that it's going to make sense at all for people to hear you singing "Now, we're your children/Come and ride your horse/In the night/In the night/Come and ride your horse?" Even worse, if you go with some mega hit like "Once in a Lifetime" you will have to live with the rejection and shame of the fact that all anyone is thinking about is that you don't sound like David Byrne.

Having said that, I would also like to say that I DO like Muppets.

Muppets, like Norah Jones, can do whatever they want.

(If you haven't clicked on the above sentence, please do so now.)

Kate, Rachel, Erin, Mols, Emily, Liz, Katie, Molly, Jenny, Arianna...

As I tossed restlessly in my bed last night, uncomfortable with a presumed migraine and delirious from a leftover Vicodin I took to relieve said migraine, for some reason, I thought about you guys.

I've boasted for months about really not having suffered much home sickness since living in Colorado, but those sentiments decided to rear their ugly heads at 2:30 am MST. 

Suddenly, I really just wanted to be in a room (on a dance floor, at the dining hall, on a road trip, etc.) with all of you ladies. (Preferably not at 2 am with my head splitting and for some reason hallucinating that my arms were really, really big, like too big to fit on the bed.)

Then I went through and listed what comes to mind when I think of you, even if it was just a little memory that, at the time, I was unaware I would remember years later in a sleepless, unintentionally drug-induced mind-rant. I also added in "Thanks for introducing me to..."

This is what I came up with, in no particular order. Order would be silly, since at this point it's 3 am.

***Disclaimer*** I'm sorry if you read this and you're not featured. It doesn't mean I love you any less. Unless you pissed me off recently. C'mon, it was late.

Arianna

I admired the way you could arrange all of your products, bottles, lotions and things in perfect descending height order on your dresser in Meadows.

That ridiculously awesome 80's romper we made you wear on your birthday (21?) and those epic dance parties in Everett and in the pool hall.

How fascinated Kate and I were when we first witnessed how kind everyone in your family always is to one another. 

Spice cake.

Thanks for introducing me to your mom's baked brie, cheap gallons of wine and allowing me to be comforted by the fact that I am not the only one who's grossed out by sharing dairy products.

Mols

Declaring and succeeding in driving from Providence to Charleston to Florida without ever looking at a map.

Interviewing people about their shopping experience at Big Al's and the cashier at the liquor store claiming to have the largest selection of beer in the state of Maine except for Heineken Light.

Your hair in Costa Rica.

Concussions.

Cat-flipping Bobby Ganoush.

Thanks for introducing me to your entire extended family, Destiny's Child and the importance of O.P.T. @ 12:30 am.

Hilary

The way you say "buT-Tons" and "Whea-Ton."

The fact that you had the audacity to trust me to cut off your blonde ends in the bathroom during Spring Weekend while people were funneling beers in the shower.

Picking you up at the airport when you came home from being abroad.

Dodging your wedding bouquet.

Thanks for heightening my awareness of and compassion for all of the living beings in the grass and for trying to stop me from walking on it and killing all of them.

Kate

Letting me know it's fine to waste a perfectly good Sunday by lying on parallel couches (or bunk beds, or an oversized futon, whatevs) watching Murder She Wrote or that crappy reality tv you like and eating junky snacks and drinking orange soda.

Finally allowing me to mimic your mirror face even if I get the death glance.

You've worn the same silver ring the whole time I've known you. 

You understand why it's funny to needlessly verbally deride and express great disappointment in your small pets for your own personal satisfaction. 

We've had incredible living quarters.

Thank you for introducing me to the allen wrench, lemon bread, morals and Harrison Bender Shea. 

Rachel

The way you scrunch your nose and squint your eyes in pictures so that you look kind of a lot different than how I see you. 

The way you say "museum" as "moo-zem."

That day that we laughed so hard in the park at work with Dave and Liz that led to a full day of none of us doing anything but sending each other pictures of different types of couches.

Your dweeb-tastic relationship with Jack, and how you agree to go to "Become a Millionaire" seminars with him and he agrees to go to salsa classes with you. 

Thanks for introducing me to the two different bakeries that make Girl Scout cookies, and for satisfying my need for Samoas this spring, for your continued effort in trying to keep secrets from me, and for a good book when I need one.

Molly

How well you wear a structured pea coat of primary color and frog rain boots.

Assembling Ikea furniture.

Sampson (RIP) and his unwavering, unmatched love for us and the taste of our lips, and how awkward it was when we put his litter box in the middle of the living room for that short bit.

The best damn bicycle pub crawl the City has ever seen.

Thank you for introducing me to the chronicles of "The Bean," Waking Life, Benetint, hair volumizing tips and expertise with making names for things sound snappier (snapperton.) 

Liz

You've developed an unfortunate habit of crying whenever I do.

The guy giving you a traditional Chinese massage got annoyed when he tried to massage your face and it was all wet with tears from laughing so much.

Texts of what religious billboards say in the Bible belt, mostly "from God."

You try so hard to teach things you know, and I'm a damn stubborn learner. However, who else have I been paragliding, rafting and skiing with?

Thank you for re-introducing me to the yumminess of sauteed brussels sprouts, getting us first class seats to and from Asia, and for telling me that funny "Rindercella" story where the words are all messed up.

Emily

You are a bear cub, and I am a little lamb, but Molly is a LION!

You really rocked it out at the Gold Party, which reminds me of the time you told me I looked like Beyonce.

You smile with your eyes and you always take showers that are a little bit too hot and they make you kinda dizzy.

Tuna pasta.

Thank you for introducing me to your entire extended family, that game you play with the Wills that made you have to go into that store with a helmet on and try to buy a beer with 57 pennies, singing songs that rhyme and include "and a dee dee dee and a doo doo doo."

Erin

Admiring each others pretty summer dresses on the way to that Caribbean music class.

Enviable white girl dance moves at Arco Iris in Costa Rica, empanadas and rattails (see above) in Argentina!

The girl I want to spend the day with hunting at a flea market, and who appreciates aesthetics as much as I do.

Thank you for introducing me to Reggaeton, those silver earrings you know I covet, the courage (or boredom?) to get my nose ring.

Katie

"Let's party!! Yeah, baby, Woo!"

The first conversation I actually had with you was initiated by you, and it was about how you were really craving a good burger.

Your hot pink pumps flying down the stairs of the Brighton apartment.

Pulled pork and root beer floats.

Thanks for introducing me to the finer elements of the Michigan accent, fried pickles, Bump'n Grind and for forgiving Uncle Howie for repeatedly urinating all over the bed you are currently sleeping on.

Jenny

I like it when you laugh like a seagull or a dolphin or whatever it is and it sounds like you might stop breathing.

That dirty basement apartment in Providence that you tried so hard to make nice.

Trying to jump.

Skipping class to lie in the dimple and persuading passers by to do the same.

Egg salad sandwiches. An underwear drawer organized by style, color and fabric. 

Thank you for introducing me to the boys, Nordstrom's generous return policy and Talib Kweli's "Get By"

I wish I had come up with this.

So, if this looks familiar to you, it is. It's a great rip off of the wildly popular (with me and Kate) "Keep Calm and Carry On" poster heralded on design sites. The poster is actually a throwback propaganda piece of a British poster in 1939. King George VI had it printed to let the people know all of the correct measures were being taken to defend the country in the inevitable case of war with Germany. *

Just when I took my $25 in cold hard debit card number to buy "Keep Calm and Carry On," I stumbled upon this. 

I know I could use the "KC&CO" mantra in conjunction with my daily dose of Celexa and vodka to calm my nerves, but "Get Excited and Make Things"?!? I'm in. 

I keep a journal by my bed to write down the ideas of things I want to get excited about and make so that I can read them in the morning and scoff at my optimistic, over-achieving  sleepy self. When the hell am I going to make a custom headboard, and where do I get a jigsaw? 

I could see myself mustering up the motivation to frame (and possibly hang) this bad boy, though. 

*Anyone who knows me knows that I don't know anything about European history and that I obviously plagiarized that whole bit. http://www.keepcalmandcarryon.com/pages/history