tuesday, blogtober 6th. steven laughed at my clothes and hurt my fingers
Sometimes I want to go back and find specific blog posts. It's hard. I've decided to rectify that by making my titles more specific to the post. Right?
Today I skipped school and went into the city for a day of shopping with all the women in my family. 'Twas fun. We ate a lot and shopped a little and spent the bulk of the day trying to get certain family members to leave stores with sale prices when it was time to eat again.
All good.
Then I came home to model some of my new outfits for my supposedly doting husband.
Know what he did? He laughed at my unitard. Not even kidding. I know, I've spent years mocking people in full-body spandex, but when I do it he should be more supportive. In my own defense, I was still wearing the leggings (I know, I know, leggings) from the previous outfit and I put on a black undershirt so I could show him the sweater/cardigan/button-uppy "thing" that went over it, but somewhere in the middle of all of this I had on a "fitted" black tank top and some stretchy black leggings.
Like a panther.
Gentlemen, would you like a list of ways to effectively charm a woman out of her full body black spandex outfit? I could write you one. I can guarantee that laughing isn't on it.
Okay, so I black-ninjaed myself into more normal clothes (re: giant pajamas) and returned to the living room to liberate him of his guitar.
I took the guitar. Nicely. I tried to play a song. More mocking. Mocking! I tell him to teach me the song. He gets out the pink 5-string guitar (it used to have 6, but it's been modified...) and tries to show me the next 46 finger movements. I put my fingers in an obvious second position, or at least a position that looks extra "guitary" and strum with flair. "Like this?" I ask, with the hopeful zeal of the eager, ready-to-learn student.
More mocking.
It was time to take a different approach to my musical education. "Okay," I said, clearly and slowly so that even he could understand. "You google the cup song. Then run and get some cups, and I'll play and sing, and you can just play the cups and move my chord fingers around while I strum." He did not get cups, but he did attempt to move my fingers.
After the first few notes....
There was apparently a "slide."
A slide is a musical term. It is also the adjective I'd use to describe what he did to my fingers. Not even kidding. He pushed my fingers along the razer-sharp guitar wire. It's not even a string. It's wire. Like the kind the badguys in movies use to garrot people. He left a trail of skin along the wire.
I have lines in my fingertips!
He says that I'll only have bloody fingers for the first few guitar years, and then I'll be fine.
Not only do I have lines in my finger tips, he wrestled the guitar away from me and now my turn is over! I'm starting to think he'll never make a ton of extra money teaching guitar on the side.
He's trying to make it up to me by learning some songs I like. He's pursing his lips in concentration. It's cute and kind of pouty looking.
Not sure why he's the one pouting when he stole my musical instrument of awesomeness.
Today I skipped school and went into the city for a day of shopping with all the women in my family. 'Twas fun. We ate a lot and shopped a little and spent the bulk of the day trying to get certain family members to leave stores with sale prices when it was time to eat again.
All good.
Then I came home to model some of my new outfits for my supposedly doting husband.
Know what he did? He laughed at my unitard. Not even kidding. I know, I've spent years mocking people in full-body spandex, but when I do it he should be more supportive. In my own defense, I was still wearing the leggings (I know, I know, leggings) from the previous outfit and I put on a black undershirt so I could show him the sweater/cardigan/button-uppy "thing" that went over it, but somewhere in the middle of all of this I had on a "fitted" black tank top and some stretchy black leggings.
Like a panther.
Gentlemen, would you like a list of ways to effectively charm a woman out of her full body black spandex outfit? I could write you one. I can guarantee that laughing isn't on it.
Okay, so I black-ninjaed myself into more normal clothes (re: giant pajamas) and returned to the living room to liberate him of his guitar.
[Steven stop arguing my grammar. That sentence sounds about as right as I feel it should.]
I took the guitar. Nicely. I tried to play a song. More mocking. Mocking! I tell him to teach me the song. He gets out the pink 5-string guitar (it used to have 6, but it's been modified...) and tries to show me the next 46 finger movements. I put my fingers in an obvious second position, or at least a position that looks extra "guitary" and strum with flair. "Like this?" I ask, with the hopeful zeal of the eager, ready-to-learn student.
More mocking.
It was time to take a different approach to my musical education. "Okay," I said, clearly and slowly so that even he could understand. "You google the cup song. Then run and get some cups, and I'll play and sing, and you can just play the cups and move my chord fingers around while I strum." He did not get cups, but he did attempt to move my fingers.
If you want to turn back now, you should. It gets a little hard to stomach right now....
After the first few notes....
Don't say I didn't warn you....
There was apparently a "slide."
A slide is a musical term. It is also the adjective I'd use to describe what he did to my fingers. Not even kidding. He pushed my fingers along the razer-sharp guitar wire. It's not even a string. It's wire. Like the kind the badguys in movies use to garrot people. He left a trail of skin along the wire.
I have lines in my fingertips!
He says that I'll only have bloody fingers for the first few guitar years, and then I'll be fine.
Not only do I have lines in my finger tips, he wrestled the guitar away from me and now my turn is over! I'm starting to think he'll never make a ton of extra money teaching guitar on the side.
He's trying to make it up to me by learning some songs I like. He's pursing his lips in concentration. It's cute and kind of pouty looking.
Not sure why he's the one pouting when he stole my musical instrument of awesomeness.
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