So I was watching some football world cup highlights on Youtube. I don’t see what the big deal is. FIFA 2001 for PC was more entertaining than this. At least that game let you run from one end of the pitch to the other without being surrounded by a dozen dudes looking like they’re Square-dancing class rejects.
That browser window died young.
What did catch my attention was the Vuvuzelas. The long trumpet-like instrument brandished by half the audience at the matches. It was a simple instrument. It was an annoying instrument. It was the perfect instrument for me. Nothing more than the ability to force air out of your lung is required.
Finally, I could steal some of the attention away from those tools that just pull a few strings on a guitar and have women swarm around them like cats to curiosity. And like cats to curiosity they die a terrible death after catching a bout of terminal cracked-the-guitar-in-two-and-killed-themselves-with-it from having to listen to the same three strings over and over again.
Till now, all I could do was play the air guitar. I was pretty good at it too. I even ordered a vintage model off eBay a few months ago. Alas, the appeal of this was lost on most people. It was as if there was some kind of force-field around me. People would ricochet off it the moment I started. I was crestfallen.
I don’t see why people have to throng around someone who can play a guitar. It seems illogical. I quote,
The second best way to get into someone’s pants is to play guitar.
What is the first, I hear you wail? Probably chloroform, I’d wager, but that is for another, password-protected blogpost. Baffling I tell you. John Mayer’s entire career rides on it. Douchbags have had their life turned around by it. Women get delirious over it. Bah, women get delirious over cooking.
Anybody know a friend of a friend who can hook me up with one of those? A vuvuzela, not a John Mayer.