binary girl: the secret blog

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shh!

Bryan Adams

December 13th, 2013 at 11:17

I was in the car this morning trying to make my Google Play turn on this amazing song by the Acabells of FSU (caution: Bitchy Resting Face ahead) but somehow it ended up playing Glass Tiger’s “Don’t Forget Me When I’m Gone”. And I was reminded, again, that somehow Bryan Adams shows up on a perfectly decent, rockin’ 80s anthem to… accompany? Or something?

So, this transpired on FB:

Alison, 9:39am
I’m I the only person who ever noticed/is distracted by Bryan Adam’s contributions to Glass Tiger’s “Don’t Forget Me When I’m Gone”?

Melissa, 9:41am
No – I remember he was on there and is probably the only reason that song got as far as it did in the 80’s.

Jill, 9:45am
Canadians all have this problem.

Alison, 9:48am
Jill, do you mean all Canadian rock bands have the same issue: “I was innocently recording a song and then Bryan Adams showed up and started trying to jam with me!” ?

Erika, 10:01am
Nope. Not just you.

Alison, 10:23am
Remember when Bryan Adams was big enough that Tina Turner sang on one of his tracks?

That reminded me that Del Amitri opened for Bryan Adams when he was touring a number of years ago, so I had to write Justin and ask if Bryan Adams was normal. It sort of shocks me that it has never occurred to me for pump him for information on this in all the years that I’ve known him, considering my devotion for Bryan Adams pre-and-up-to-“Everything I Do, I Do It For You”/”All For Love”.

And this leads me to tell an amazing story that I may have never told in this venue before, because at some point in my life between 1997 and now (how long I’ve had a blog) I’ve stopped caring about disclosing my silly teenagedom.

My mom and family are from Hawaii, so we’ve spent many vacations there. One year, instead of our usual haunts, we decided to hit the Big Island, and spent a lot of time driving the island to see the volcano, etc. I remember distinctly that I was very into Bryan Adams at this point, and as I spent most of my youth with a pair of earphones attached to my head, I made my way through most of my BA tapes in the long drives around the island. At one point, we stopped at a small local market for lunch, or whatever, and as I was EXCEEDINGLY boy-crazy at this age (I had a total reputation among my friends for this fact, even though I didn’t date until I was almost out of high school) I immediately noticed this super cute bagger who was helping us with our groceries. As is my habit to talk to anyone, I struck up a conversation with him and remember getting into the car that he was perhaps the guy that I was destined to be with (I was also exceedingly romantic at this age because I read far too many books, so that combined with my love for pop music — which is idealized and romantic generally, if it’s not a Del Amitri song — sort of overhyped my ideals of relationships).

About 20 minutes later, my chest REALLY started to hurt. And of course, I was absolutely convinced that I was experiencing true heart-break because my parents were driving me away from my one true love — DAMN THEM! I spent a lot of that car trip in misery, because my parents and sister clearly couldn’t understand what I was going through, and my chest frickin’ hurt.

Turned out that I had a chest cold from the air conditioning. The end.

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