If (when) I get a time machine, the first thing I'll probably do is go back to 1965 and allow Ronnie Spector to fall in love with me. I figure I'll walk up to her and say something super cool like, "Hey baby, I can hear music...........in your pants!" See what I did? I took one of her famous songs, and made it about her vagina. That's pretty romantic. And if Phil Spector's little nerdy ass has anything to say about it I'll just punch him in his tiny chest and yell "FUTURE MURDERER" and run away, and everyone will be confused because it's 1965.
It's a working plan.
Editors Note: Yes, I realize Ronnie Spector is still alive. But now she's all old and blotchy and weird. At best, my love affair with her ends somewhere in the late 80's. So keep your smartass comments to yourself.