It is the fifteenth anniversary of Exile In Guyville. What more, at this point, could we possibly say about Exile In Guyville? WRONG QUESTION, bitches! (Better question: Why on earth isn't Jezebel devoting a post to each song on Exile In Guyville? Answer: Why, what a capital idea! How did you go about becoming a blowjob queen, Anna?) Anyway, Liz (incidentally a Hillary supporter) was on NPR today talking about the album, and the interview — salient quote: "I had this crush on this guy in the scene…" — would have probably brought a tear my eye if Liz hadn't so effectively schooled me in the ways of repressing emotions. Fifteen years ago, see, I was a fourteen year old passenger in the carpool of Francis Chung whose most defensible CD was probably En Vogue's "Funky Divas." I was a virgin and a nerd who hadn't learned to pluck my eyebrows or roll my kilt correctly or swear off barrettes. Francis Chung was a dork too but he liked "alternative" music, and he, and that one line in "Fuck And Run" — Even when I was seventeen, fuck and run, fuck and run, even when I was twelve… — would become my "salvation" of a sort.