I’m opening myself to pedophilia jokes here, but that’s never stopped me before.

Have you realized – I mean really realized – the awesome power of Hilary Duff? I’m not talking about her certain jail-bait qualities, since I didn’t know Duff from an Olsen until I spotted a poster for “The Lizzie McGuire Movie” a few months ago.

I’m talking about that song. In the past few weeks, I’ve been so overtaken by “So Yesterday” that it was inexplicably downloaded and burned onto a CD that is now sandwiched between Slayer and Roman Candle in my changer.

Much like a college radio DJ, I work hard to pass myself off as a musical elitist. But on occasion I am possessed by my inner 13-year-old girl, a condition that renders me unable to deny my general aversion to sugary crap like “Unwell” and “The Remedy.”

But “So Yesterday” has burrowed deeper into my psyche than any song I can remember.

I’ve wasted a couple hours transcribing the song note-for-note on guitar and I’m actively figuring out the drums and bass line. If I don’t get help soon, I’ll dust off my old four-track and record my own version, which would undoubtedly be confiscated by the orderlies who will lock me in a straightjacket and drag me off to a padded cell. It’s that bad.

Speaking of unhealthy obsessions, tomorrow night is the release of the remake of “The Texas Chainsaw Massacre.”

I have a strange emotional connection with the seminal original film, with which my younger brother harbors an attachment every bit as intense as my own with “So Yesterday.”

In the summer of 2001, my brother researched, planned and partly financed a trip to the dusty and sun-baked Austin, Texas, area, where the first movie was filmed.

We, along with our Dad, visited every single shooting location, a fact that makes the movie considerably less frightening. Leatherface’s house has been moved 65 miles from Round Rock to Kingsland, where it was converted into a restaurant. It’s hard to get the chills watching the family hold Sally Hardesty hostage after you’ve eaten grilled chicken in the adjacent room.

My brother and I are approaching the remake with caution. We fully anticipate the new version to fall well short of the original’s lofty standard.

Beyond that, after our Southwest adventure, I think we felt a bit of ownership over the movie. This remake, no matter how good it might turn out to be, forces us to share “The Texas Chainsaw Massacre,” thereby infringing on the intimacy we’d developed with the film.

For that reason, Friday night might be a little sad.

On the other hand, it’ll get me away from that song for a couple hours.

Daniel Pike is the Herald features editor and a senior print journalism major from Glasgow. His column appears on Thursdays. Reach him at [email protected].