Using as many different voices as a twelve year old could think of, I called the radio station to request a song about a style of woman's underwear. After calling the station six times, I begged my sister to let me stop embarrassing myself, as it was clear the DJ had caller ID (or, more likely, my high-pitched child's voice could not be disguised by any accent and was clearly not as indistinguishable as I had hoped).
I waited up with my sister, until one in the morning, to hear our request; this was a big deal as, to a twelve year old, one AM might as well be the same as pulling an all-nighter. The song was never played, because the DJ was obviously an ass, but the only person I would ever do this type of ridiculous thing for would be my sister. The only thing stronger than the sting of embarrassment is the bond between sisters.
I never have heard "The Thong Song" played on the radio, but if I did I would call my sister immediately, even if I had to place an overseas call to do so, just to hold the phone to the speakers and reminisce on all the stupid things that helped us to grow, and all the idiotic fun we have yet to experience.
My sister provided me with the spark which ignited my dreams of making sure every song has its chance to shine, regardless of its insignificance or how silly it may sound; it had to be important to someone to be recorded in the first place.