shutup

In November of 2004, I was getting my BA in Feminist Studies and debating if I should move to Canada because, really America, another four years of W? Ugh. Aside from the anti-Bush sentiments slapped on my truck–“The Only Bush I Trust is My Own” (and underneath that I wrote “and my girlfriend’s”), “Not My Government” and “F the President”–some of the other bumper stickers on the tailgate of my black Ford Ranger were:

“Electric guitars are proof that Satan loves us.” – Some Guy

I’m a whore for musicians, let me just get that out of the way. Some girls like painters or writers or construction workers; I like musicians, specifically guitarists.

I love hearing about guitars, watching guys tune their guitars, explaining why one is better than the other, why these pickups are better than those, what pickups even are, how this pedal favors this style of music, etc. I also enjoy hearing men talking about cars, motorcycles, beer, football, and all other things I don’t have a true interest in until some handsome, knowledgeable man begins telling me about them.