Owned Again

Some people get rings from the phones. Some people get rings from a doorbell. Some people get rings from Reeds jewelers. I got a ring from my wife. It was a Christmas gift. A replacement for the real one that I lost a few months back the one I mentioned in a post musing about the state of my current vows, given the loss of the ceremonial symbol. Well… sorry ladies, but I am now doubly owned because I found my lost ring just days before Christmas (completely ruining my wife’s thoughtful gift). Ain’t I a stinker?

Advice

A week before Christmas I had a great request – some friends wanted to buy a starter guitar for their son. Expecting a simple two line response, they had no idea… I wrote a book in response. a veritable tome of introductory guitar shopping delight. I included everything from local shops to options for a kids guitar at Musicians Friend. Thorough? Hells yeah. Could I do any less? After all, the very future of rock and roll could be at stake!

And the first lesson is free.

Greatest Gift!

How have your holidays been? Can’t top mine. Best Christmas gift ever…

The wife is taking me to see the Pixies.

Simultaneous Rock & Roll AND Christmas miracles.

Gigantic!

Danny Boy

Ever since the Traveling Wilburys hit the scene in the 80s, I’ve sort of wanted a Danelectro Bass. Do you remember that super cool double horn bass Tom Petty played? That was a sweet Danelectro. I think it was called a longhorn. Something like that. It kind of looked like it was made out of cardboard, but man, it looked pretty sweet. Of course, when you’re Tom Petty’s bass in a band with 80s Roy Orbison, Bob Dylan, and George Harrison, you’re going to look pretty good no matter what. And seriously, anything next to Jeff Lynne in those days would look like a super model. And that includes a paper bag full of marshmallow fluff.

Illuminating

You ever heard that saying about the sucker in the room? It goes something like ‘if you can’t pick out the sucker in the room, it’s probably you.’ sometimes, as a volunteer, I feel like I’m in a room full of people who think they’re awesome and generous and super special, but me… I can’t figure out how I got pulled into such a mess. You can get a map and a compass, but it won’t lead you to a bigger sucker than me. You can buy Louis Poulsen lighting, or drag the whole situation out onto an International airport’s tarmac under the blinky blinkies… but the biggest sucker you see will always be me.

Pedal to the metal…

Earlier tonight I dropped my 8 year old off at a “Kids’ Night Out” fundraiser. These are relatively common in our school district. A bunch of adults with a cause set up the event, usually with the help of a good number of high schoolers who need community service hours. Elementary school kids go and play games, run around in the gym, and eat hot dogs and pizza purchased in advance.

It’s a fun Friday night sort of thing, and I am all in favor of this as a fundraising tactic. Of course, the mindless enthusiasm of the parents who’ve just dropped off one of these Elementary schoolers? Not so cool.

I was nearly sideswiped three times driving that last miracle mile to the school to drop off my guy. I know it’s nighttime and all, but 50 in a school zone is acceptable exactly NEVER.

I’m thinking I should run a crowdfunding campaign for the best best vocal mic for 200 bucks and a good set of external speakers for the car to preach the message of peaceable speed within a 2 mile radius of the school. Makes sense, right?

There’s an app for what now?

I have this Pitfall t-shirt I bought on clearance a few months ago. It is the artwork from the classic Atari game. Lately I’ve been wearing it and getting all sorts of comments from my 11 year old’s friends. Apparently there is a Pitfall app that they’ve all downloaded. I was kind of psyched because I love the old game and used to rock at it (if I do say so myself). I finally hit the app store on my phone a couple days ago and cruised some biggies – most recent Angry Birds pig spin off, Shazam!, goconnect iphone app, and… then I found it. Huzzah!

Oh man. It sucks. It’s not Pitfall at all. It’s a thinly veiled Temple Run rip off (of which I was among the earliest of early adopters). What a bummer. Somebody, please… I beg you… make me some classic 80s Pitfall for iPhone!

Stat!

Grab the can…

I’ve been hearing that old phrase “the squeaky wheel gets the grease” quite a bit lately. What I’ve come to realize is that too many people seem to think that in pretending to abide the sentiment in that statement, one instantly assumes the right to be a complete pain in the ass all the time. Ummmm… no.

The squeaky wheel should be diligent and forthright. The squeaky wheel should raise issues promptly and appropriately. The squeaky wheel should NOT push everyone aside and step up shouting to be heard at the expense of everyone else. That’s just being a good old red, white, and blue a-hole. The squeaky wheel searching for Pandora beads or whatever on a shopping site should not steamroller the comments section (intended for past purchasers to discuss their experience with the product) with questions about the seller.

For that matter, the squeaky wheel should probably never be anywhere near any comments section. Those are usually occupied by PITAs on a mission of destruction.

Or they’re posting comments to get free junk.

Ringing true?

A while ago I asked whether or not my missing wedding ring should mean I’m free. Is it just a symbol or is it something more? Is it actually a document of sorts, imbuing the bond with some sort of greater severity? Am I silly to think about such things? And would a mothers ring from joyjewelers.com or some such make my sweetie something more of a mother than just the simple reality of being a Mom?

Little noises…

Me, I’m always on the lookout for affordable guitar effects pedals at musician’s friend and similar places, but I have this buddy in a whole other world. He’s all about the custom made boxes. clones and stomp boxes and kit pedals you can tweak tweak tweak to your heart’s content. He’s a man’s man when it comes to tone crafting one chunky little box at a time. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.