Earlier this week (and I guess I mean, oh, yesterday) I was sitting at my desk listening to I Just Want the Girl in the Blue Dress to Keep on Dancing (I am in love with this song. IN LOVE. I’ve listened to it more than 20 times in the past week) and making comments on Johnny the Greek’s story. I had to pause for a moment because I realized god, I really love doing that kind of stuff. Listening to good music and reading/writing — fuck man life does not get any better (because having an orgasm would just get in the way).

But then I realized that what really makes me happy is kicking geek ass at Guitar Hero. Granted, I was not undefeated, but for being the only marketing person and the only girl to play against the code monkeys, I sure as hell represented.

At one point one of them (I don’t know who because the room was dark and my eyes were glued on my four-foot high, blue-haired doppelganger projected on the boardroom wall) asked me where I thought I was.

I kind of grinned. “In my mind I’m playing the main stage at First Ave.”

Apparently when most of the geeks play they just sit in a chair and lean back. Me, I march up and down in front of the screen, sing, lick my lips, and do a lot of hip thrusty gyrations. It’s weird.

I thought I’d be more self-conscious and control my stage presence. Being with a bunch of people I don’t know all that well makes me shy. But, I learned, by their laughter and their “watch her” murmurs that despite my inherent shyness, I was playing in front of and with a bunch of people I hardly know, the rock cannot be contained.

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Damn awesome. I am off to kick some more engineer butt on Welcome to the Jungle.

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Miss Maddy and her mom BFK (best friend Kari) were the hit of the party. Nobody could compete with the lookalike Cyndi Laupers. Not even a cake shaped like a little plastic guitar.

The party also included:
Willie Nelson and/or Jerry Garcia, she waffled a bit
John Cougar Mellencamp
Janis Joplin
Avril Lavigne
Post-rehab James Hetfield
Johnny Cash (me with a pompadour that was more 1987 mall dweller than man in black)
Jack Johnson
Midori (from GHIII)
3 separate but equal Slashes

I did not win the double-elimination tournament, I was knocked out in round three or four. BFK kicked my ass on “Welcome to the Jungle.” I still claim that it was a greasy strum bar that led to my demise. THough I have to admit that my singing along really badly with the song tactic did nothing to faze BFK.

I am, however, happy to report that I kicked the asses of every other person who didn’t actually own the game. So, when you look at it that way, I am totally a winner of all the other losers. And in an extra-special episode of victory is sweet, I am still totally undefeated when it comes to playing against Wolfdogg.

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You should probably just play the video while reading this post. Once you get the soundtrack going, you can start imaging a darkened meeting room filled with white boards, office chairs, a rolling TV cart, and eight of my favorite co-workers. Also, the room reeks of gyros.

Ok, got that? Now add all 6’5″ of me slighty sweaty, my tongue out, rocking the Kansas. In the dark. At work. OH hell yes.

K. Gills brought in Guitar Hero today to help celebrate the birthday triple threat (K. Gills, The Dougs, and Al, the cutest girl on earth™ all have birthdays this week). It was so much fun. It was more fun than playing with the Sister Club. Why? Because amongst my worker-friends I am the best player. I rock the ever-loving casbah. Me and Mary Katherine Gallagher (a new-old coworker who has come back to us after leaving Hell, Inc. some two years ago) looked a little like this while playing “Carry On My Wayward Son”:

We plan on playing more GH tomorrow, which is good. The big Guitar Hero party is this weekend and I need all the practice I can get. This is the party that’s been in the making for months. To enter into the GH tournament you have to dress as a famous guitarist. If I get really ambitious I’m going as Elvis (Costello that is). Though I think I might be lazy and go as Johnny Cash (I have enough black clothes) or I could totally wuss out and where my everyday clothes and just call myself Rivers Cuomo.

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Unlike my sisters and friends, I cannot play Guitar Hero sitting or standing still. No. I have to clear a three foot circle around me, because I need some space to walk back and forth in front of the TV. Then I have to stand with my legs about a foot apart — my left leg behind me, the right one in front of me, make sure my knees are nice and loose, lean back so my weight is on my left leg, and then thrust my hips forward with the guitar at my waist. Only then am I ready to rock.

And because that’s not dorky enough, I also have to constantly run my tongue over my top lip. It’s what I do when I am concentrating.

Really, it’s a wonder to behold. Sister #4 announced last night that what I lack in actual skill (Jaycie and Max are about the only people I can beat), I make up for in stage presence.

In my defense, it’s hard. Every time I get up to play, I think of Laurie Lindeen’s Petal Pusher. In the book she talks about Zuzu’s Petals’ first gig and how much it sucked because they had only been standing up, playing, and singing for about a week.

See? It’s just as tough to stand up, lick your lips and press the buttons on a fake plastic guitar.

But I am getting better. My goal is to play Wolfmother’s “Woman” (my song) at 100% by Sister #2’s rockstar party in November (where I will go as Elvis Costello, because allegedly I hold my guitar like he does).

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