I don’t think I’ve listened to any music as much as I listened to Weird Al when we were growing up.

We almost saw him live in the ‘90s, but our mom left us in the van to run into the bank, and I was sitting in the middle seat. My two brothers were in the back. We never really fought. I’m the oldest; they’re two and four years younger. They fought, but they shared a room with bunk beds until I went to university. But we were fighting in the van, or they were just annoying me, and I picked up a rock (where did that rock come from?), and I threw it, and it went between their heads and out the back window. Instead of taking us to see Weird Al, my parents had to pay to replace the windshield.

We weren’t even kids then; we were teenagers. I had to have been at least 14. Still, I hope my parents know how lucky they are that was the worst they got from us. We weren’t bad kids. Just weird.