The roof, Monday afternoon

[nadiathesaint]

The weather had warmed up a bit, and Nadia had gone the whole weekend without properly practicing with her guitar, so she hit the roof after her class, perching on the corner of the ledge overlooking the preserve, one foot propped on the wall as she idly tuned the sucker up and tried to decide what to play.

The roof was, as always, open.

[ooc: I could use some cheering/distraction from some things here at work. Come bother the emo thinking Argentine!]

Comments

[nadiathesaint]

Nadia smiled proudly. "Heck yeah. It's fun."

[oatmanspatient.livejournal.com]

"Okay," Marty said with a smirk. "How about Pennsylvania Six Five Thousand?"

[nadiathesaint]

Nadia took a moment to think, then started playing something poppy.

Pennsylvania, ohhhhh, Pennsylvania,
Number two pencils aren't in Pennsylvania.
Pennsylvania, ohhhh, Pennsylvania,
Other numbers are for Pennsylvania.

Pennsylvania's pencils are large and wide,
Pennsylvania's pencils are long and deep,
Pennsylvania's pencils are for crowds, and,
Pennsylvania, ohhh, six five thouuuuusand!

[ooc: you're eeeeevil]

[oatmanspatient.livejournal.com]

"Number two pencils?"

[nadiathesaint]

"Yeah. That was all I could think of for 'pencil-vania'."

[oatmanspatient.livejournal.com]

"I fear you."

[nadiathesaint]

"As well you should."

Nadia stuck her tongue out at him. "Come on, give me another one."

[oatmanspatient.livejournal.com]

"Lydia the Tattooed Lady," Marty replied after a bit of thought.

[nadiathesaint]

For this one, Nadia borrowed musically from the Cure.

Here she comes, now, do you see her there?
Check out those tattoos, she doesn't even have hair.
She's Lydia, my darling Lydia,
Lydia the tattooed lady.

Oh Lydia, she doesn't know how I feel,
She only knows her skin doesn't peel,
When she inks it, how she inks it up,
She's tattooed on even her make-up.

Here she comes, now, oh, she's like a cat,
Complete with whiskers, can you believe that?
Her skin's died blue, and she likes it that way, too
She's my darling Lydia,
Yes, Lydia the Tattooed Lady!

[oatmanspatient.livejournal.com]

"She only knows her skin doesn't peel?"

[nadiathesaint]

Nadia held out the guitar. "You wanna try coming up with rhymes at a moment's notice?"

[oatmanspatient.livejournal.com]

"I can't play guitar," Marty said with a small smirk. "So I guess you'll have to keep doing it."

[nadiathesaint]

"I could play and you could sing,"

[oatmanspatient.livejournal.com]

"Have you ever heard me sing?"

[nadiathesaint]

"You know, I don't think I have."

[oatmanspatient.livejournal.com]

"There's a reason for that. I shouldn't."

[nadiathesaint]

"I'm dating Walter. I've been known to make him sing. And he could potentially break glass with his voice. I've given you four wonderful, original songs. I think its your turn."

[oatmanspatient.livejournal.com]

"Fine. Give me a title," Marty said rolling his eyes.

[nadiathesaint]

Nadia thought for a moment, aiming for something really, really weird. ". . . The Thing That Only Eats Hippies." She started playing a 60s protest song tune on the guitar for him.

[oatmanspatient.livejournal.com]

How many hippies must you eat?
Before you spit out a cleat?
Did it all start with a dare?
How can you eat all that hair?

You'd think it be easy...
Being the thing that only eats hippies
But you're really need to check
If you're going to heck
Because hippies are really people too

[nadiathesaint]

Nadia deadpanned. "Okay, no, that was terrible. You obviously don't have the talent for writing songs."

[oatmanspatient.livejournal.com]

"Told you. You should have listened."

[nadiathesaint]

"Well, you get points for trying, anyway."