I can NOT believe it – as Lucky BWay Girl reminded me (and I thank you) I completely forgot one of the five (count ’em! five!) ways to express affection: Acts of Service. And here I choked on the one Gary loves to do and I love to receive. He is Bongo to my Missy, Tarzan to my Jane, Scratcher of Backs, Getter of Starbucks.
I can not believe I Spoke Ill of My Husband. Then again, he has been a royal pain lately, so I need to start whipping him like a circus pony so that we reconnect.
(I also feel bad because I truly am a fickle guitar whore. I traded in Ding. I now have – get ready for it – a Fender Stratocaster I CANNOT PLAY. I was quite honest with the guy at the store. “I want to stop saying, it’s the guitar, it’s not me.” He reassured me that everyone does this. And next I’ll be trading in the amp, then I’d stop playing. No, I said, I can always blame the cables.)
2 responses to “Missy Bad.”
Adios, Ding? Dang.
I will always love Ding as my first, but I will have you know: I mentioned that I might be looking for a nicer guitar to the salesman and he said “Like, the Blond Fender? That’s what you were looking at yesterday, wasn’t it?” I wanted to say yes, if by ‘looking at’ you mean rubbing my face on it, stroking it and mewling “pretty, so pretty” then yes I was looking at it. Besides, DIng would short out after I played him for an hour. Plus, he had an attitude.