Birthday Bass

Just for the hell of it I started taking bass lessons (electric, not upright/double bass) about three years ago (it'll be three years in May). I bought a used bass and amp at a local pawn shop (no shortage of those in Flint) and my only requirement at the time was that it be for someone right handed. It didn't disappoint. Since that time, though, I've realized that it is fairly limited, primarily because its controls (other than the volume control) are broken. Well, it was good enough to learn how to do scales and such. Starting a few weeks ago Simon started (very subtly) asking what new things I'd like. I told him I didn't want anything (which was true). As January ended and we got into February, the questions became a lot less subtle, "What the hell do you want for your birthday? Tell me, or you get nothing." Given my perpetual anxieties about money (mostly irrational, and largely just habit at this point (still in the mode of stealing toilet paper from public places, which is how I got through grad school, I guess), I gave him nothing to work with. Finally, one day I happened to mention that my bass was holding me back from really breaking into the Big Time. Apparently this was all Simon needed to hear and he was off. And here is what he presented to me on my birthday (actually a few days before, just after we had lunch together on one of the few days we were actually able to be in the same place at the same time, child care free):

Unfortunately, I have pretty strong preferences when it comes to appearance (color, mainly) and so I (rather tactlessly, it would seem) hinted that I might like a different bass. Simon sulked [translation: he threw this at me: Unwrapped: I think he's gotten over it. Apparently I just have to keep this note tucked inside my bass case until he decides I can remove it. Amid the sulks, he gave me permission to exchange it for something I preferred. Here's what I found:

It's used, and was shipped to our local Guitar Center (otherwise known as Dickweeds Central) from Chicago. Before I was allowed to take it away, the hefty manager had to get off his ample arse and waddle over to the counter and decide for himself if I had bought a decent bass. His verdict? A begrudging "Sweet."