Well, for one thing you can try checking the door when you first wake up.  That way, if you don’t see a head you can be pretty sure it was a dream.  QED.  …Christ, this ain’t rocket science, goth boy. The Cure, “Close to Me (Head on the Door)”

She could hear the highway breathing, you say…?  Well, I’m no expert, but it sounds to me like she was doing more with the grass than just lying in it.  Try offering her some Cool Ranch Doritos.  Cool Ranch Doritos are a dead give away… “And She Was,” Talking Heads

Well, that certainly explains why everybody’s speaking Spanish. But it doesn’t make those burro rental commercials any less freaky, I can tell you that much… Wall of Voodoo, “Mexican Radio”

Uh, how the fuck can a reflex be lonely? And don’t give me any of that crap about “poetic license” or “symbolism” either, you pack of whiny-synthed prettyboys. I want a man‘s answer. “The Reflex,” Duran Duran **** for Stacy

Oh c’mon. If religion really were the smile on a dog, Steven Tyler would be freakin’ Pope, am I right? “What am I,” Edie Brickell and the New Bohemians update: I said, am I right…?

You can’t afford a thing on TV? Like, not even one of those cheapass pastacookerstrainer dealies? No offense, dude, but you need a job. “Electric Avenue,” Eddy Grant

Well, let’s say we make it just one little pink house, okay? And you go ahead and keep it. I’d just as soon sleep here in the van.“Little Pink Houses,” John Cougar Mellancamp

Yeah? Well salt and pepper’s here, too — only it’s not quite so glamorous when you’re talking about ear hair and the like. So, y’know, shut up, you couple of frolicky tarts. “Push It,” Salt-N-Pepa

Nein, all ist nicht klar. Und ruft mich nicht ‘der Kommissar,’ arschloch — Ich bin Jeff, lord des tanzes. “Der Kommissar,” Falco

“Pink torpedo,” did you say? Well. How delightfully descriptive. “Big Bottoms,” Spinal Tap