I returned crap CD JVC player and got another (I upgraded) RCA model, better than the one I had, and cheaper. It still has an FM tuner, even though I decided radio is ghetto and that I didn't want to pay for a tuner. The model I got was basically the only model they had. Who knows? Maybe I'll be back to Ithaca with it and I can rock out to ICB. It's also vivid (I won't say bright, cause it's more of a forest) green, the kind of green on street signs, which I once called "pitch green" when I thought pitch meant quintessence, as opposed to referring to the shade of a coal tar byproduct. It's got a nifty CD *and* radio remote thing that's removable AND has a seperate hold switch from the one on the main unit (*snicker*). More bells and whistles than I usually go for, being a more stripped-down kind of guy. But dammit, I am tired of paying for crap electronics, and I don't really like Sony (for one thing, all their models have digital volume control, for one, and I prefer dial precision and speed). RCA is "okey and pritty güd," as my Russian former fyzix teacher would say.
One the way home, I christened it with Forbidden Places, the Meat Puppets disc so generously (and tastefully!) supplied by sobriquet in our holiday trade. On the way home, my mother, who takes great pride her singing, complimented ME on MY voice for the first time ever (better than a "that wasn't too bad"); she actually said I have a nice voice! Maybe puberty is wearing off and I am getting my near-perfect pitch back.
Add to the list of cute chicks who dig on my nail polish by a very significant one. Too bad she is A) Jailbait and B) Attached. Hey, we can still trade beauty secrets, sunshine!