My guitar is f'd. And you know what? I'm tired, I'm PMSing and I smell like meat, so if I want to say f'd then I'm going to say f'd! F'd, f'd, f'd! Hold me in the highest contempt. I don't care.
The tuning peg (like the whole bloomin' peg) for my G string (insert G-string jokes here) is wrecked. And that hurts me. It means I can't practice...
I should back up. The plastic part of the peg was cracked, I made a note of it and was going to have it fixed when I took it in to the 12th Fret for its yearly(ish)tune up. Then I remembered that I really needed to change my strings before Rachel and Jason's Stag and Doe. So I change les strings. I go to tune the next day and the plastic thing breaks off. Merr. I follow that up with a series of bone-head moves to tune the guitar and end up essentially crushing the metal. Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.
So like I said I can't practice for the S&D, but that leaves me without a 'tar. And cod sarn it I want my guitar! I was fretting about what to do, and this fretting in my own special style was of course out loud - to Marleah and her boyfriend and many others...anyway.. Tim says he can get a buddy's Norman for me to use for Thursday and Friday! Well I'll get it Thursday night and I have to work all day Friday but you know...So I'm glad for that but..
It hurts that my guitar is sick. I don't like it when its sick. Its like a part of me is sick. Oh sickie! Lamentations, lamentations!
I'm dumb. The end.
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