In Which I Come Back
Meet John Quincy Adams, my Guitar. I just call him Quincy for short.
Some of you may be wondering, "Why does she have a guitar? She doesn't even PLAY the guitar! She has no concept of musical theory and does not understand stringed instruments!"
Well, FIE ON YOU! My potential for ROCKSTARDOM was so great that my sheer awesome rent the sky in TWAIN and from that rift flowed a cacophany of sound and light, followed by my dear, dulcet, and delightful, John Quincy Adams.
Seriously so far I can play like, MAJOR CHORDS and next thing you know I will be in a HAIR BAND since that is pretty much the undiscovered goal of EVERYONE.
One fly that remains in the ointment of my life is GETTING INTO COLLEGE. Or even FINDING A COLLEGE I MAY WANT TO GO TO. I have visited a grand total of 1 college my highschool career, and I hated it. But everyone around me is already filling out forms and applying things and so forth, and I am beginning to feel a little unprepared. So today I KICKED DOWN MY COUNSELOR'S DOOR, demanding some sort of form that I can at least PRETEND to fill out while other people are around so I don't look like such a loser, but she wasn't even there. So right now I am floundering.
AT LEAST IT CAN STILL BE HAMMERTIME AT THE THIRD REICH!
Oh wait. I guess not anymore.
HAIKU!
I PLAY THE GUITAR!
IN A ROCKING HAIR BAND, YEAH!
College? HAMMERZEIT!