this machine is toooo fucking expensive

I want to play the guitar. My guitar is a piece of shit though. It sucks. It used to be okay, and for a while it was ‘decent’ but here’s the thing: it’s a cheap guitar and I’ve had it for twenty years. It’s no longer good, but for the longest fucking time it was good enough, which prevented me from upgrading it. “It’s just for dicking around with at home” I told myself. “I don’t need anything more than this crappy epiphone. WELL, guess what? I do. Now, my guitar is kind of fucked up and hard to play and I’m old, and the idea of having a nice guitar kind of excites me. And that’s cool. I mean, I’ve got a couple of really nice basses. Why not have a nice guitar too, right? I’ll tell you people why. Because those shits are fucking expensive, that’s why. I went to four (FOUR!) shops yesterday and I couldn’t find anything that wasn’t embarrassingly reprehensible for under fifteen hundred bucks. Who do they think I am? The sultan of Brunei? Tim McIlrath? I mean, come on. Waste of time, that’s what that shit was.
My wife has been out of town for a week and she comes home today. I’ve got dead hookers all over this place and the dogs and the kid have just been running free, shitting wherever they want/can and scavenging food from the floor. I’ve gotta go to work in fifteen minutes and I don’t really know how I’m gonna ‘spruce up the gash’ so to speak, before she gets home. What’s a good lie to tell to your wife when she confronts you with your pile of dead hooker parts? “Uh, I’m letting the med students house some cadavers here while they clean out the cooler at Northwestern. Hey! I’m an alum! What was I gonna do?” nah. Chances are good she’d bring up the decomposing flesh and the baby and the maggots and all that. I gotta hire a maid. That’s all there is to it. But a man maid, someone with some strength and guts. Steve Segal, maybe, or Bruce Willis.
Fuck. My head’s not in the game today. After my hideous experience with the guitar shopping, I juggled my kid for a few hours and then went to band practice way after I should have already been asleep. The falcon, my other band, is playing a secret (shhhh!) show tomorrow, and we had to get the dust off our dicks and relearn the songs. The good thing about the falcon and the bad thing about the falcon are the same: we just have a few songs. That makes it easy to practice and write a setlist, but hard to change up too much. Whatever. The songs are all golden hits about sucking penises in back alleys or down on the docks and drinking strong drinks to sanitize your tonsils afterwards. Don’t know if you guys knew that, but it’s true. Oh, there’s some anti religious, anti stupidity, and pro stupidity jams too. For those of you keeping score. Whatever. They’re almost all getting played tomorrow (and a couple of surprises! Yay!) so come on down, provided you already have tickets, that is. Shit’s private, yo. So you can’t just show up and get in. Plus, it’s in a secret location. How’s THAT for classing up the shit? MmmmHmmm.

As you all may or may not remember, I give advice here too. Recently, one of my dogs of war wrote in for advice. Seems he dumped his long term old lady for the chick that he’s been pining over for years, who also happens to be his GF’s close friend. The problem arose when the new chick wanted to take shit slow. He freaked, because he’s used to being in a long term relationship, and wanted to know if he should patch shit up with his ex or go for the casual dating with the new chick, though the casual nature of it made him uncomfortable. THEN, he wrote in to say that I could just forget about the advice because they neither one want anything to do with him anymore.
Well. Well. Well. What do you think I have to say to this?
Sounds to me like he engineered the switcheroo pretty well (they ended up making out and then severing ties with their various significant others) but then something went wrong. What was it? Hmmmmmm….Anyone? Bueller?
Confidence, man. You can do anything you want. It’s like the fucking invisible bridge in the Last Crusade. If you just have faith that it’s there, it WILL carry you through to the other side. This dude was NOT confident with casually dating a new girl (which, let’s be frank, you HAVE to do. You can’t just start up with a new chick where you left off with the old one. Doesn’t work that way.) and the results? Everything blew up in his face. No one wants to see effort or strain or uncertainty. You can look at a man’s suit as an example of this. People don’t want to see the way it gets put on. That’s why the belt goes over the clasp, the tie goes over the buttons and the collar goes over the tie. The illusion of impossible simplicity. No one wants to see the effort. Confidence is the ONLY WAY TO IMPRESS UPON OTHERS THAT YOU ARE WORTH A SHIT. AND, once again, IT IS THE ONLY THING THAT ALL (I wish I could make that ‘all’ even more capitalized), REPEAT, ALL WOMEN FIND ATTRACTIVE. Nine times out of ten if you’re having a problem, it’s because you’ve failed to understand this simple and applicable maxim. This time, this was it.
Okay, these corpses aren’t gonna stuff themselves into hefty bags. Gotta run.
xo