Delicate Art of Mixery

Well, I have finished my mix of all of the good bands playing at ACL Fest, broken up by the days on which they're playing. As one might guess, I spent way, way too much time on it. If I had applied the same level of fanatic devotion to another project of equal stupidity, there'd be a mountain right now with Cheech Marin's face blasted into the side of it. The thing is, you can't just slap a project like this together; there's too much at stake. After all, if I half-assed the CD, I'd never be able to have the following conversation at the bus station.

Me to a stranger: You going to ACL?
Stranger: Maybe, I'm not sure who's playing.
Me: Alas, today is your lucky day! I have lovingly assembled a sampler of many of the bands, and I happen to carry several thousand copies of it with me wherever I go. Would you like one?
Stranger: Sure...
Me: When you listen to it, you'll have to tell me what you think of the order of the tracks. That was the sticky wicket. You see, I didn't think...
At this point, the stranger silently mouths "HELP ME" to those nearby, and I am unceremoniously gang-tackled and then beaten to a pulp.

Now, let me dispel a myth: just because I spent a lot of time on this, it's not necessarily going to be that good. That was confirmed one time in college, when I was ferrying this girl around town, listening to a CD I'd made. This one Propellerheads song started playing, and she began to yell and get really angry. I asked her what was happening, and she said I needed to turn the song off or pull over and let her out. Since I really liked the song, I tried just turning it down so it was hard to hear. That didn't appease her and she began to get a little violent. To prevent major bodily trauma, I changed songs, then made a mental note to install one of those plastic shields they have in police cars between the seats in my car. (Note to readers: I really wish I were exaggerating this for comedic effect.) (Note to that girl: You do not get one of these CDs.)

Anywho, if you want one of those, just let me know. If you don't, I'll probably give you one anyway. For the sake of my feelings, act like you like it. Whenever I'm around, play it and sing along. If you can, get it bronzed so that whenever I come over, you can nod at it, throw up a rock and roll hand sign, and get a little teary-eyed. After the last outpouring of emotion from one of my mix cds, the rest of you should definitely have to make up for it.