Frickin Oooouch!

Well friends, I just got home from my first guitar lesson and well, I’m having a really hard time typing this post because…..MY FRICKIN FINGERS ARE BLEEDING. What kills me is that not one of you dear readers warned me about how badly it would hurt. To make matters worse, my guitar is heavy as shit and is twice as big as my teacher’s guitar. You know that guitar case I bought for it 6 months ago and then promptly threw on a shelf in the garage? The damn guitar won’t even go half way in it! I had to carry “the beast” to the lesson nude.

Question: How hard would you laugh your ass off if you saw a ‘lil black lady jump out of her fancy mom-mobile, pop open the trunk, pull out a big-ass black guitar that looks like something Johnny Cash would play, then start running down the street with it? If I had video footage of my arrival to my lesson this afternoon I would post it on YouTube so you all could enjoy it as much as I am enjoying replaying it in my head right now.

On the positive side, my teacher is fabulous and very patient with my lack of magical guitar playing ability, although I’m sure she thinks I’m mentally challenged in some way because every time I got confused I would wrinkle my face up right good, close my left eye, and just start grunting like I was constipated.

And thus goes the story of my first guitar lesson. A little bruising and lots of grunting. But still it’s better than air guitar.

With any luck, in about 6 months, I will be able to play “Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door” without crying or getting bloodstains on my left pant-leg.