The General Situation: Between the Sheets

I'm just saying...

I would pay extra for an edition of the New York Times with no opinion pieces.
Evite should run reviews and ratings from party guests.
Prius drivers are the worst.
Someday I'd like to have a washing machine that's not at knee-level.
Train travel is better in the abstract.
Artists should have websites indicating where their works are on display, the way musicians' websites list upcoming shows.
Why is stand-up comedy in movies always so terrible?
Nothing kills the vibe at a restaurant bar like a laptop.
Is a "knowledge base" ever useful?
Houseguests are like newborns: Great pains should be taken to keep them asleep.
Sometimes I think everyone I know is on the spectrum.
Best to avoid any gas pump that also offers diesel.
Skip the exit interview.
When did car windshields get impossible to clean on the inside?
Cookbooks should be very clear about which recipe is featured on the cover.
Penne is the saddest pasta.
Don't eat a dish named after a volcano.
Nobody cares about your app.
It's time to remove that note at the end of your emails asking people not to print them.
If you think about it, gum is weird.
Business idea: TV channel devoted to terror attacks.
Please don't tell me about your favorite TV show.
The more reachable I've become, the less likely I am to answer my phone.

previous lyrics

This may come as some surprise, but I miss you
I walked home smiling—I finally had a story to tell
I kissed you in a style Clark Gable would have admired. I thought it classic
If you knew how I felt now, you wouldn't act so adult now
Under the kitchen light, you still look like dynamite
The culture is lit, and if this is it, I had a ball
I was dreaming when I wrote this, so sue me if I go too fast
I never wanted to be your weekend lover
Sometimes I wish for a mistake
Downstairs the party is going full swing. The people we came with haven't noticed a thing
It’s not safe to go out, it’s not right to stay home. Listen, my advice is to carry a gun
And anyways I'd rather listen to Coltrane than go through all that shit again
Up to Lexington, 125—feel sick and dirty, more dead than alive
Whoever brought me here is gonna have to take me home
I hear you knockin', but there ain't nobody home
What's practical? What's logical? What the hell, who cares?
I don't know what I knew before, but now I know I want to win the war
Tell me something that you mean, not just what comes to mind
I don't know my future after this weekend, and I don't want to
I see you driving sports cars, ain't hitting the throttle, and I'll be down to do a hundred, top down and goggles
Sing me another love song, but this time with a little dedication
You got a look in your eye when you're saying goodbye, like you want to say hi
I'll settle for a cup of coffee, but you know what I really need

Adam: You untucked the sheet on my side again!

Me: No, I did not. And I always make sure to tuck it in when I make the bed.

Adam: Well, it's untucked.

Me: Get up and tuck it back in.

Adam: I can't. The pug is on me.

Me: I've run out of sympathy.

[A minute passes.]

Adam: Something is wrong with the sheets! Look! See what I mean!

Me: You're lying on top of the top sheet again.

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The General Situation