Here's the word.

I have a *great* story to tell all of you. I wrote it last night at home but I couldn't post it because our phone is out of order.

So I'll do it tonight. In the meantime, join me in my obsession of Clapton's "Bell Bottom Blues." It's so good, it makes me feel like combusting.

I think I could play guitar like Clapton. So I e-mailed my brother and told him he should ask all of our friends to chip in $10 and buy me a guitar for my birthday, which is a few weeks away.

My brother feels I should master the drum he bought me a couple of years ago. I explained, I am so beyond my drum. I rule the drums. But I'm just not feelin' it anymore. I need a guitar.

He told me that I am not going to play like Clapton. I told him to get me that fucking guitar and we'll see.

Maybe I won't play like Clapton, but I can sure as hell show up that poseur Sheryl Crowe.

Don't get me started on Sheryl. I get all fired up about that song-stealing, cover singing, dating your way to a hit record and high profile appearances, two-bit performer.

I have major Sheryl Crowe issues.

PS - I love "At The Drive-In."

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