Turns out there are exactly seven songs that begin with "Seven" on my iPod.  What does it mean?  Nothing, except these particular ones are atypical enough to make me seem like one of those 55-year-old men who still wears blue jeans every day.  Sting?  I mean, Sting?  Am I publicly admitting to Sting?

Seven Days by Sting (not even the one by Craig David, which in a way would be more embarrassing)

Seven Deadly Sins by Bryan Ferry (see previous entry for feelings on Bryan Ferry and his twit of a son)

Seven Joys of Mary by Kate and Anna McGarrigle (at last, something cool, with Martha and Rufus singing along)

Seven More Days by Terence Trent D'Ardy (all coolness now hereby obviated, but this was a good album!  Remember?  For about four minutes, we all thought he was the new Prince.  We were wrong.)

Seven Seas by Echo and the Bunnymen (this, I can live with)

Seven Seas of Rhye by Queen (try as the surviving members might to ruin the already dubious Queen legacy (We Will Rock You the musical, physics doctorates, Roger Taylor...), there's still never been anyone like Freddie Mercury)

Seven Stories Underground by The Gutter Twins (and a 2008 entry at last, possibly too late to save my reputation; Mark Lanegan of Screaming Trees and Greg Dulli of Afghan Whigs make a Seattle grunge supergroup, and it's surprisingly soulful and moving).

I've got 3647 songs on my iPod, and this perhaps is not the most representative list.  Yet, what can I pledge to you but honesty and openness and the fact that I downloaded The Last Shadow Puppets just this morning?