Last night, I was subjugated to watching the Grammys. My hippy husband put the show on in the bedroom while I was wanting to read a book about Siberian history. Loudly.
At one point, the Hall of Fame inductees (I think that's what it was?) came on. I recognized Diane Ross and The Allman Brothers, naturally. But I quietly mumbled "I don't even know who these people are."
My husband turned his head and said "You don't know George Jones?!" as if I was saying I had never heard of someone who affected human life as we speak, such as Gandhi.
He then promptly proclaimed me a Communist and said I'm anti-American.
A few minutes before, someone had come on singing "Rhinestone Cowboy". I had no idea that was a real song.
Apparently, I'm supposed to be familiar with the songs that were popular in Amerika while my family was living under the USSR Communist yoke in Poland, not aware that eventually we would be moving to a country where George Jones should be known.
I don't think I can get back the two hours wasted watching the Grammys.
Welcome to my life.
I'm not cool.