A new work friend brought to work a new guitar that she just bought with the money she made from working.

Well, technically she brought it to the work carpark, seeing as she was too scared to take it out of the boot, so I had to go out to the carpark at afternoon break in order to see it.

Apparently, her expensive new purchase sounds great.

I wouldn’t know though, because I wasn’t allowed to touch it.

It felt like a Spinal Tap moment:

LTA: “I haven’t even played it since I picked it up from the shop. I’m too scared.”

DM: “You haven’t played it? My God, Look… [points finger] it still has the tag on.”

LTA: “Don’t touch it!”

DM: “Well, I wasn’t going to touch it, I was just pointing at it.”

LTA: “Well… don’t point! It can’t be played. It can never be played. Don’t even look at it!”

DM: “Well… Ok…”

LTA: “It has nice sustain though.”

DM: “I don’t hear anything.”

LTA: “Well, you would, if it were playing. Hey -You’re looking again! Don’t look at it!”

Or something.

I think she was also worried that had she let me touch it, I would have bust out some quasi punkrock nastiness on it. Which, OK, fair call, I probably would have. But still.

Part of me wishes I had the money to splurge out on a guitar that I was too worried about scuffing up to play.

But I’m actually real happy to just have something cheap and nasty that likes to be treated cheap and nasty, even if it is missing its volume control because of that stupid-stupid incident with the cordless drill, which I’d really rather not discuss.

God I’m a dumbass.