strapping punishment: gettin’ guitarded

Guitar isn’t just for dudes trying to get laid. It’s also for chicks who lay said dudes! Kidding. Friends: Don’t be scared. I have no desire to leave on a jet plane or sing about the Carolinas. But I shall ROCK, get behind some totally greasy blues or pluck campfire tears in my beer, updated to snugly hug the contours of my life. I don’t think anything rhymes with vodka. Satin in my manhattan? Kismet in my gimlet?

It only made sense to begin with I Walk the Line. Check out JC in ‘56.
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Then I moved on to the Animals.

A few days ago I realized I needed a strap of one’s own.

Right away I landed on a snakeskin model.

Too much? Perhaps.

I like this simple flower one.

The flowers are mod style, not the I-have-stinky-sex kind of flower pattern.

Though it’s rad that it’s homemade, stuff like the strap below just seems so over the top to me, like the girls who knit iPod cozies or pretend to like football. It’s just trying to hard. It’s cute, though, minus the feathers.

This almost violates my no-accessories-that-feature-pictures-of-other-accessories rule (like a purse with pictures of shoes on it), which also somehow goes for things with pictures of the thing that they are on itself (I don’t date Bukowski dudes, either) but it skims right under the wire–it’s NOT a strap, but a “car seat strap cover.” I want to be the person who plans for that kind of thing, but I’m not and I know I have to learn to love myself anyway.

For that, we have Rainbow Teardrops guitar strap.

It feels very anti-depressive living, you know?

Is irony still ironic? I hope so! I also hope someone covers Tracy Chapman’s “Fast Car” with “Nascar.” My first cover? Or as people who sing mostly covers like to say, interpretation?

I’m thinking old school. These belt-strap hybrids have a sexy kind of rated R feeling for some reason, like if you let Dickey Betts touch it and then feel TERRIBLE about it, then do it again.

Along the way, I discovered there’s a dark side to Etsy. I’m no Clapton fan–that chapter of the book that ran in Vanity Fair was absurd–but damn.

How cool is the tie-strap? I’m thinking this is my direction.

I also like the crochet one. Right now my collarbone hurts from slamming into a car door with handcuffs on so I the softies are appealing, so we’ll revisit when I heal and learn a third song (I don’t think the Sweet Home Alabama riff counts as a song).

Meanwhile, behold: