Rock at rock bottom

Rock has reached a new low. Just yesterday I was wondering how I was going to get my daily fill of rocking out to Boston's "More than a Feeling" in my pajama pants. However, due to miraculous circumstances, last night, this dream was finally realized. I should remind my readers that this daily urge only just started last Tuesday, so it hasn't been lingering that long. However my hang gliding jones is only getting worse. (Man, that's such a horrible idea)

The reason for the rock satisfaction is that Rob brought over my copy of Guitar Hero last night, straight from the shelves of our local Best Buy, where Rob diligently works and hides copies of Guitar Hero so we can have one. Fair enough.

The object of this genius little game is to grab your half size guitar made out the finest plastic that money can buy and rock until my wife assures me that I am in fact, the dork of the year. Check this, it's the precision injection molding on the neck of the guitar that gives it such great sustain.

This game does for guitar what Dance Dance Revolution did for dancing, which is not much. But it doesn't matter, for in my own mind, I'm already cooler. Both Tim and Rob, who also monkeyed around with it last night are also cooler.

Does this excuse us as dorks? Not a chance.
Can we play guitar better as a result? Probably not.
Do you want to come over and tear down the living room via "Smoke on the Water"?

I thought so.

Just call ahead, the cover charge changes nightly.