One day I really wanted to play the blues, so I went out and bought a $600 blues guitar. Technically it was $249, but the tag said the original price was $600, so I got the quality of a $600 guitar AND I got a deal.
That was my first mistake. There’s nothing bluesy about saving money. Either way I had a really great blues guitar, so I was on step one of making some really great blues music.
One thing I learned quickly is that it’s really hard to play the blues when you have nothing to be sad about. I wanted to be able to sing about something like my girlfriend breaking up with me, but I don’t even have a girlfriend in the first place, so that’s impossible. In fact, I’ve never had a girlfriend, which sounds like a pretty awesome blues song, but then again, I’m gay, so it doesn’t really matter. And no one wants to hear a blues song about gay lovers. I know one thing, being gay is not bluesy.
I quickly got home to the mansion I inherited, missing all the stoplights to Beverly Hills, and I wasn’t feeling very bluesy at all. I had a big toothy grin on my face that I kept seeing in the mirror, since I really like looking at myself in the mirror a lot. That’s when it happened, I put the wrong key in the door and it wouldn’t open – something to sing the blues about. Inspiration hit me like a Seattle rain, drenching me in blues, but then I remembered that I didn’t really know how to play the guitar, and it was still in its box.
Plus my doorman quickly opened it for me.