Snowmobiling With the Love Child of Enya and Flavor Flav

Snowmobiling With the Love Child of Enya and Flavor Flav

OK, so you’re snowmobiling. That part I get. You’re bombing all over, this way and that. You’re throttling the revver, or revving the throttle, or whatever it is you do to make your motorized Flexible Flyer annoy all the cross-country skiers. That’s all great. What the hell is up with your soundtrack?

Your snowmachine has more stickers on it than a mopey girl’s Trapper Keeper. You’re listening to a tween girl’s iPod shuffle. Come on. Whenever a breathless girl starts singing about “going insane,” all I can picture is someone staying up all night binge-watching Molly Ringwald movies on Netflix while eating ice cream right from the tub. Maybe she gets a tattoo of a shamrock on her ankle when she’s feeling particularly insane. She ignores the trouble light on her Kia for several days. A wild woman. I have no idea what the guy mumbling as loud as he can is on about, either. Rapping and snowmobiling? I’m not feelin’ it, for realz. What’s next, a plumber listening to Verdi while he cleans out your sink trap?

It’s time to man up, son. No pastel clothes. No Enya. Try some heavy metal. It’s really stupid. It’s the perfect soundtrack for a man that wears a helmet while tobogganing real fast.

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