Valentine’s Day is fast approaching, not to be confused with Steak and Blow Job Day, which is March 14. I don’t need to remind you guys about that one.
This Saturday, though, is her day, meaning you had better have something special planned. Maybe surprise her with a cute little gift package consisting of a donkey punch, a gorilla mask and a dirty Sanchez.
But let’s say that’s not your style for whatever reason, such as you have a shred of respect for women. In that case, I hope you can play her a song on guitar.
No offense, but if you can’t play guitar, you’re a loser cretin ass-hat. Everyone else plays guitar and you have no excuse.
Still, there is hope for you. With the help of this informative column, even you can learn, just like me and the entire human biosphere.
One catch: I’m assuming you are not as tone-deaf as a drunken secretary at karaoke night. It also helps to be an owner of at least one appendage.
Don’t be daunted. If multi-platinum-selling musical prodigies who have practiced 10 hours a day since age two can do it, then you can too, with little or no effort. So let’s get started.
Usually when I hand the guitar to informal students, they react as if I have presented them with a large radioactive zucchini.
They ask what to do with such a curious thing, and I show them how to play an E, and they don’t get it right, and I get bored, and so I have to beat them to death with an actual zucchini. I take pride in my patience as an instructor.
But here it would probably be better to teach a specific song, say maybe ‘Stairway to Heaven.’
Actually, I never learned that one myself because it’s one of those songs that everyone plays, including quadriplegics and aliens from the planet Zapthor.
If they (the aliens) ever landed on the White House lawn and attempted to communicate with us, they would most definitely do so by playing riffs from ‘Stairway’ over their P.A. system. Then we would nuke them, because we are fed up with that song.
Let us instead try ‘Everlong’ by the Foo Fighters, which is your girlfriend’s favorite song. She told me this last night.
First, we need to tune the guitar to ‘drop dee’ tuning, which we can do by ear. Simply say out loud ‘dee’ repeatedly while turning the lowest string’s tuning peg until it makes the same ‘dee’ sound. Now move on to the next two strings and fret them at the 9th and 11th frets so that they go ‘DOO’ when you pluck them.
Begin when you’re ready. It goes like this: Dee dee DOO DOO DOO DOO dee DOO DOO dee DOO DOO DOO DOO.
Call me in nine months to let me know how it went.
Now for you single guys: Let’s hypothesize that you haven’t yet killed yourself with a garden implement because of the pressure of finding a Valentine. What you need is a surefire way to attract members of the opposite sex (girls).
What you need is a band.
I had a band once for an afternoon. Practicing in the guts of the Student Center parking structure, I thought we looked good as a unit. I couldn’t be sure because my eyeballs were vaporized by the 17 million individual decibels exploding out of our nuclear-powered amplifiers.
We played ‘cover songs,’ defined as songs which we could never in a billion years write ourselves. The first one was Radiohead’s ‘Creep,’ which I liked because its impressiveness- -to-difficulty ratio is enormous. The bass line has approximately three notes in it, and I am not even sure I played them all, but we still sounded great.
Single-serving fans, some of them female, began streaming up the stairways to watch us.
The problem, though, was that we also got the attention of the Irvine Police, who are vital to Irvine’s safety in the same sense that bottle-nosed dolphins are vital to Africa’s.
A typical example of a crime wave in Irvine is two overdue library books. So you would imagine that when a really heinous crime occurs, like when four guys play loud music in an empty parking structure, it would warrant an entire SWAT division.
We only got two measly patrol cars, maybe due to budget cuts. Happily though, one of the officers was female, so we hit on her and got arrested and sentenced to hard labor in the Gulag.
No, I’m kidding; she had sex with us, unknowingly proving that the guitar is in fact the ultimate Valentine’s survival tool.
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