Ragtime Roast Beefy
I can no longer access Myspace at work. Today around 2:00pm it suddenly decided that Myspace.com was blocked because it was "pornography". Too bad. I'm not too broken up about it. I just... don't know how I feel about being flagged for trying to access pornography at work.
This weekend, I started to explore all the guitar shops I found online. It offered me the opportunity to drive around the city a bit, see some sights, and play some sweet guitars. The first shop I went to was called Capitol Guitars and it was... kinda lame. Just a tiny little shop devoted mostly to metal-ish stuff. They had a couple of cool amps but most of the guitars were flashy and cheap and just not really what I was interested in. The guy working there was nice though and thought he knew me. "You've been in here before right?" "No, I just moved here 6 days ago." "Oh well, you work here long enough and everyone starts looking familiar."
I let it go. I'm sure he's seen a lot of kids come and go. Then the next place was a little classier. It was called... American Vintage guitars or something like that. They had an old Gibson I wanted to play (a 1967 J-50) and play it I did. It was dissapointing. Those old Gibson acoustics are really hit or miss. This one, unfortuantely, was a miss. The guy working here was also very nice. We talked about acoustic guitars for a while (cause I'm on a quest to find a good one) and after I wandered around for a bit he said "Hey, you wanna play a treat?" "...sure." You don't say no to something like that. So he pulls out a guitar case from the back room, opens it up and it is a 1967, all original Martin D-28. It really sang. Beautiful guitar. I strummed it for a while, loved it, and then found out that it was $4700, which is actually kind of reasonable for something like that. However, still out of my price range. I bid the storekeep adieu and thanked him for showing me around. He responded, "No problem, I've seen you in here before." Well that's fucking interesting, cause I just moved here. There's a doppelganger of mine running around St. Paul making me look like a hack. I must find him and destroy him... or start a band with him... depends on how talented he is. We could be like a read headed version of The Proclaimers (thanks Tal).
The final shop I visited that day was Willie's American Guitars whose website it www.thegreatestguitarshopintheworld.com or something like that. I don't think that's really it but it's close. Anyways, they had an amazing selection. I played a bunch of 50's and 60's Gibsons and Martin's that I couldn't afford. They also had a bunch of amps that I'd never heard of which was suprising. Also, the guy (who may or may not have been willie himself) reccomended a Martin to me based on the price range and sound I wanted which he described as "alarmingly affordable". It was alarmingly affordable and also sounded great. It is stored in my memory. Perhaps I'll purchase it.
The weird kid at work keeps getting wierder. He keeps telling me to "get back to work" while I'm sitting in my cube working and he's walking around doing nothing but telling me to work. He's not my boss. Man, I think I might punch him before the summer's out. I agreed to go to a Twins/White Sox game with him last week. I hope that goes okay. He also yelled at me for using the wrong printer (does it really matter?), and asked me (twice today) "why did they give you an old computer?" I dunno? Cause I'm new, and cause it works and they didn't want to buy a new one? Man. He's not the boss of me. I told him he should get back to work and he got all huffy. Don't dish it out if you can't take it, my friend. I've decided to make him my Dwight. Oh, he also wanted to be my Myspace friend which worried me because then I'd have to delete all these blogs he's in and I'd have to find another way to record my summer long observation of him. The other crazy thing he did was tell me.. well this involves a little set up. There are lists of people's names printed up at the end of each row of cubicals. The names are the people in each cube in order of appearance. There are two people in my row, me and one other guy. Apparently our names were printed in reverse order from top to bottom. Not a big deal, you'd think, since we also have name plates on our actual cubes, but this kid tells me that it's wrong and tells me to go ask someone to change it. I tell him I'm working on something and that I'm pretty sure people will be able to figure it out, but he insists that it "should be printed the right way" if customers are in the office or something. I refuse to get it changed so he takes the list off the cubes and goes to get whoever makes them to change it himself. I dunno. This is what I'm going to have to put up with all summer. I hope you're looking forward to more ridiculous stories.
I'm going back to Chicago next weekend for Saturday and Sunday night, but I'm probably already booked due to my grandma's 85th birthday and a few other obligations. If you'd like to hang, perhaps we can work something out. Let me know.
-Mike Sherry
Here's your moment of zen.
This weekend, I started to explore all the guitar shops I found online. It offered me the opportunity to drive around the city a bit, see some sights, and play some sweet guitars. The first shop I went to was called Capitol Guitars and it was... kinda lame. Just a tiny little shop devoted mostly to metal-ish stuff. They had a couple of cool amps but most of the guitars were flashy and cheap and just not really what I was interested in. The guy working there was nice though and thought he knew me. "You've been in here before right?" "No, I just moved here 6 days ago." "Oh well, you work here long enough and everyone starts looking familiar."
I let it go. I'm sure he's seen a lot of kids come and go. Then the next place was a little classier. It was called... American Vintage guitars or something like that. They had an old Gibson I wanted to play (a 1967 J-50) and play it I did. It was dissapointing. Those old Gibson acoustics are really hit or miss. This one, unfortuantely, was a miss. The guy working here was also very nice. We talked about acoustic guitars for a while (cause I'm on a quest to find a good one) and after I wandered around for a bit he said "Hey, you wanna play a treat?" "...sure." You don't say no to something like that. So he pulls out a guitar case from the back room, opens it up and it is a 1967, all original Martin D-28. It really sang. Beautiful guitar. I strummed it for a while, loved it, and then found out that it was $4700, which is actually kind of reasonable for something like that. However, still out of my price range. I bid the storekeep adieu and thanked him for showing me around. He responded, "No problem, I've seen you in here before." Well that's fucking interesting, cause I just moved here. There's a doppelganger of mine running around St. Paul making me look like a hack. I must find him and destroy him... or start a band with him... depends on how talented he is. We could be like a read headed version of The Proclaimers (thanks Tal).
The final shop I visited that day was Willie's American Guitars whose website it www.thegreatestguitarshopintheworld.com or something like that. I don't think that's really it but it's close. Anyways, they had an amazing selection. I played a bunch of 50's and 60's Gibsons and Martin's that I couldn't afford. They also had a bunch of amps that I'd never heard of which was suprising. Also, the guy (who may or may not have been willie himself) reccomended a Martin to me based on the price range and sound I wanted which he described as "alarmingly affordable". It was alarmingly affordable and also sounded great. It is stored in my memory. Perhaps I'll purchase it.
The weird kid at work keeps getting wierder. He keeps telling me to "get back to work" while I'm sitting in my cube working and he's walking around doing nothing but telling me to work. He's not my boss. Man, I think I might punch him before the summer's out. I agreed to go to a Twins/White Sox game with him last week. I hope that goes okay. He also yelled at me for using the wrong printer (does it really matter?), and asked me (twice today) "why did they give you an old computer?" I dunno? Cause I'm new, and cause it works and they didn't want to buy a new one? Man. He's not the boss of me. I told him he should get back to work and he got all huffy. Don't dish it out if you can't take it, my friend. I've decided to make him my Dwight. Oh, he also wanted to be my Myspace friend which worried me because then I'd have to delete all these blogs he's in and I'd have to find another way to record my summer long observation of him. The other crazy thing he did was tell me.. well this involves a little set up. There are lists of people's names printed up at the end of each row of cubicals. The names are the people in each cube in order of appearance. There are two people in my row, me and one other guy. Apparently our names were printed in reverse order from top to bottom. Not a big deal, you'd think, since we also have name plates on our actual cubes, but this kid tells me that it's wrong and tells me to go ask someone to change it. I tell him I'm working on something and that I'm pretty sure people will be able to figure it out, but he insists that it "should be printed the right way" if customers are in the office or something. I refuse to get it changed so he takes the list off the cubes and goes to get whoever makes them to change it himself. I dunno. This is what I'm going to have to put up with all summer. I hope you're looking forward to more ridiculous stories.
I'm going back to Chicago next weekend for Saturday and Sunday night, but I'm probably already booked due to my grandma's 85th birthday and a few other obligations. If you'd like to hang, perhaps we can work something out. Let me know.
-Mike Sherry
Here's your moment of zen.