Get Lucky, Daft Punk. “God, how I hate this fucking song” I thought. Seemed to be the only one who hated it. Everybody in the club cheered when it started playing, even the friends I were with just loved it. She loved it too. “This is my summer song from Chile” she told me when we went clubbing and the song came up, one of the last nights we were together in Santiago. I couldn’t shake that phrase off my head every time they played this tune anywhere I went after she left. Shit, and did they play it. And yes, I got lucky a lot after her disappearance, but that didn’t matter. This song, every fucking time… Until, pretty much like the main character in this movie, “Silver Linings Playbook”, it stopped bothering me. To hell with those robot looking motherfuckers and their repetitive lyrics. Screw every new version that came up of this music hit. Fuck last summer in Chile, it was shit anyway. New year, new life, new songs to hate. And, of course, much more getting lucky.