Hell is a 90's Love Ballad

I am having a problem here kids.
It's not at all funny.
It's a serious issue for which I feel there should be Telethons held and Run/Walks scheduled.
I can barely leave the house.
I am afraid to be seen in public lest I let slip a symptom and then become an instant pariah of anyone within earshot.
You see...I can't get the classic 1990's Wilson Phillips song "Hold On" OUT OF MY FREAKING HEAD!



I have tried everything. Ice packs, coffee, repeatedly smashing my forehead against my kitchen wall.
Nothing.
All I hear is, "If you HOOOOLD on for one more DAAY, things will go your WAAAY. Hold on for one more day!"
I don't know what demon, what vengeful warlock has infected me with this plight today.

But I swear to you I awoke this morning and it was like I was trapped in my junior high gymnasium, and Lisa Madden was cuter than me, and Eric Hager didn't want to dance with me, and "It Takes Two" was so totally going to be next on the playlist. (That DJ Ruled.)
But ever since this morning a continuous loop of Carnie Wilson smashing a sledgehammer right through the great musical legacy of The Beach Boys has been haunting me non-stop. I mean their genius father wrote "God Only Knows." He released the legendary album "Pet Sounds."
How do they sleep at night?
I really don't think I should leave the house today.
I mean is this some sort of messed up motivational device sent up from my unconscious?
If so my unconscious self doesn't know JACK about me.
I mean WILSON PHILLIPS?
My psyche is going to communicate messages of encouragement to me through WILSON fucking PHILLIPS?
I mean Christ the Beatles recorded over 200 songs, you couldn't throw one of those into my head?
I would have even taken "Hang On Sloopy" over that dribble any day.
Sigh, I'm working it out kids.
It will be okay.
Eventually I know that the seizure inducing harmonies of the three beach ladies will be replaced by some car driving by blasting something else to remind me how much I hated my adolescence.
I don't care who you are. Age ten to thirteen is ugly.
Okay maybe if you're Lisa Madden it's not that bad but for everyone else these are ROUGH years.
And for those of you who weren't around back then let me just tell you that the music of the late 80's and early 90's did none of us any favors.
I mean Warrant, Whitesnake, Motley Crue, Poison, they released love ballads for gods' sake!
There is a reason Axl Rose went crazy and let some surgeon play Mr. Potato Head with his face. He couldn't stand to look at himself after subjecting us all to the 9 minute version of "November Rain."
Still it could be worse.
I could be 12 today and have all my music dictated to me from some corporate board room in Orlando, Florida.
"We will take Billy Ray Cyrus' daughter, and we will put her in sequined booty shorts, and we will synthesize her voice to a level so deafening that even Avril Lavigne's ears will bleed, and they will beg their parents, and they will shell out millions of dollars, and they will never know us, but WE WILL BE GODS!"
...I may have been too hard on Motley Crue and the boys.
I'm going to go put on "Every Rose Has It's Thorn" and pray for mercy for us all.
Peace Guys.