My music tastes tend to be all over the place, so the flash drive in my car has just a little of everything except maybe country. But I’ll admit to shamelessly enjoying some stupid pop music. If I’m in the car, bouncy tunes help with mundane commutes, and dammit, some of these songs are just goddamn catchy.

One song that wormed its way into my heart was “Shake It Off.” Don’t know why, can’t stand any other Taylor Swift song, but I freaking sing along to that one every time I hear it.

Unfortunately, my boyfriend apparently does not understand the accepted car rule that driver picks the music, passenger shuts his cake hole. If he’s sitting in the passenger seat, he feels entitled to skip songs if he doesn’t like them, screaming, “CRAP!” every time he flicks the button. He’s done this to the aforementioned Swift song, to virtually every song in my 80s playlist, even the Rolling Stones.

Not cool, babe.

So I recently had to borrow his car, and what do I see? His flash drive full of tunes sticking out of the radio. An evil glint appeared in my sneaky eyes.
Oh, sweetie, don’t like “Shake It Off?” Too bad. There’s at least a dozen folders of music on his tunes drive, and I copied that motherfucking song into every single one and then renamed it so that he’d be blindsided when it rolled up in the playlist.

In the “oldies” folder I renamed it an Elvis song. For Americana, it’s a John Mellencamp tune. I even stripped out the album artwork on the file AND changed all the metadata so that when he discovered my revenge and tried to find all instances of Shake It Off, he’d have to work extra hard to find them all.
And considering that in carrying out my malicious plot I found Katy goddamn Perry on his flash drive, I’d say he royally deserved it. Bop along to that, sweetums!