Well, obviously that isn’t it. I happened to be in Victoria’s Secret today, as I often am, and I saw a set of underwear in the infamous Blue Fade/Ocean Fade. So I had to take a photo, of course. But I kept it below the fold, as it were, because the photo when seen from a distance looks a little but unsafe for work.
So… make sure your boss is elsewhere, and click the jump.
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Long-time readers of this blog know I’m deeply in love with my RainSong JM-1000. I’m also interested in, and excited by, the potential for guitars that aren’t made of wood, both acoustic and electric. (I also have a Fano Psonicsphear.) This weekend, I had a chance to pick up another different strummer, so to speak, at a bargain price.
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As is usually the case, I’m the last person in America to get my copy of the magazine in the mail. But this came up on my Facebook tonight, so at least I know they didn’t cut me out of said magazine, right?
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Ah, it’s exactly how I feel.
This was the week I returned to my day job (on Wednesday) and CMW had her “external fixator” surgically removed at oh-dark-thirty (yesterday morning) so I haven’t gotten a lot of writing done. The two long-forms I managed to complete are below:
The photo’s misleading — although I did take this lovely and eye-wateringly expensive AMG E63 biturbo wagon around Putnam Park on Saturday, the real story was with another car that I can’t talk about just yet.
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Last weekend, I drove to Chicago to attend a meeting of the Heritage (Guitar) Owners’ Club and to play a little music. But while I was there, I was stupid lucky enough to stop by Chicago Music Exchange.
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This week in R&T online, a thoroughly serious attempt to understand the question: “Why are the words ‘Miata’ and ‘gay’ used so often in the same sentence?” Or maybe not. It might be about my father. Maybe I’m just like my father: too bold. Check it out.
After about the twentieth jump like this, John made a mistake and managed to cut himself up a fair amount. That was yesterday. Today he insisted on going back and doing it some more. How, exactly, am I going to helicopter parent or bubble-wrap this kid, when he has every bit of my instinct for doing stupid things and taking stupid risks? What are the chances I can get him to twenty-one with all of his bones and joints intact?
Maybe I shouldn’t; it’s the bad times that make us who we are.
After seeing the Unity Group earlier this week, I was stoked to catch them a second time. The venue was better — much better. The crowd was worse — maybe sleepy is the better description. And the bandleader was in a very different mood.
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