Damn you, 4 Non Blondes!

God, how I hate you. Especially when you're the first thing I hear from my clock radio in the morning. Having to hear that mish-mash of yodeling and a bad case of the hiccups that somehow gets passed off as singing - I can feel a new ulcer burning itself into my stomach every time I think about it.

I'm not going to link to you, either. Oh, hell no. I don't want to give you that much attention. I don't even want to write this, dammit, but if I don't my head will explode.

Thanks to you, my brain is filled with your strangled warble and the image of some evil record exec fusing Alanis Morissette, the corpse of grunge and some unspeakable horror together after watching "Addicted to Love" one too many times (a metric pantsload of eyeliner doesn't make you a bad-ass, no matter what you tell yourself).

I blame you, 4 Non Blondes. Don't even ask for what. Just know that it's your fault. You and that goddamn Lilith Fair.

But I do like this picture. It looks like someone in the audience is popping the head Non Blonde right in the kisser.

Man, I feel so much better now!