The Sound of White

I want a guitar for Christmas.

No, I don't know how to play the guitar. Yes, I used to play my friend Katie's like a stand-up bass back in high school because I thought it was funny. Why, you ask, why would I want a guitar? Because. I want to be an artsy singer/songwriter with a cool guitar case and a cup of latte from Starbucks, who looks at the world through poetic eyes and thinks all of life is a song. I want to jam out like John Mayer does on his electric guitar. I want even more people to think that I am kickass and cool. Naturally, part of me thinks I'll get frustrated with learning to play after a week and just put said guitar in a corner somewhere and forget about it. The other part insists that I will become a stellar guitarist.

Right. Because I really nailed the recorder back in high school. I still cringe when I hear "Mary Had A Little Lamb"...I screeched through that one quite nicely, thank you. I'll keep you posted.


Ugh. My shoulder hurts. I have like the worst posture ever at my desk. I start out sitting all normal and upright, but somewhere during my day I morph into the hunchback of Notre Dame. I have long voiced to the girls in the office my desire of keeping a geisha in the closet to give me hot tea and massages when the stabbing pain in my muscles begins, but it usually gets laughed off in that "oh that Lashawn is such a silly girl" way. What can a girl do to get taken seriously? I'm thinking about getting one of those things you throw over the back of your chair and it massages your back and adds heat to "relax the pain away." Those are kind of pricey though, so I'm leaning more towards just bitching about the pain and rubbing my shoulder in a melodramatic fashion. Or I could have Nicky give me a massage. He's not really that awesome at it, but it's really cute when he rubs my shoulders. Plus, it's free. You can't argue with that.

I'm looking out the garage window, and it looks beautiful outside. One of those super nice, sunny and brisk quintessential kind of Autumn days we get in Ohio. The air has a brisk chill in it, along with the faint smell of the falling leaves. Of course, I get out at 6, so by the time I leave work it will be dark and blah outside. Makes me want to go home, curl up with a comfy blanket, and take a nap.

Sounds good. I'll leave you with a Friday afternoon quote from one of my personal heroes, Ricky Bobby (of Talledega Nights fame):

"I wake up in the morning and I piss excellence."