all's fair in love and whore.
My tarot cards (which I rarely ever read for myself) just informed me that I am going to find someone else to be in love with and do the nasty to other than my boyfriend. They also informed me that I'm going to break up with Danny and that it's going to be a horrible, nasty mess. Ok. Right.
It was a long day today. It was an, "Amber, let's make you feel like an inadequate musician *and* person" kind of week. For example, in Monday's choir class I was recruited to turn pages for the piano player. Coolio. Forget the fact that I was about to get my shit and sneak out of the class, because it's even more lame in there than Jerry Falwell's sex life (aside from the hookers.)
So I become horribly embarrassed as I sit with this bitchy piano player, unable to keep up with the music because I have only read through it (and vocal part, mind you) once before, they're singing in Latin and I am NOT Mistress of Dead Languages, and of course... her being a piano player, she had some of the shit memorized and never told me where to start. I had no idea where the hell to come in... she was playing before the first page turn. Ugh.
So here I am, wishing all these fucking people would just rot in hell, turning pages at the bottom, doing everything wrong because following music and turning pages is not a good thing to attempt on a Monday for a lousy guitar player... much LESS a monday during a mercury retrograde.
So what pissed me off even more than that was that today in class, she made a psecial note to recruit somebody else to do it (the piano player, actually) and it was so obvious that those stupid cunts had no regard for anyone else's feelings. Errr.
I admit that I go off the deep end, and without question I let stupid shit bother me. But here's the thing... these people kiss your ass to get you to come to their institution and learn, and then make you feel as if your entire spectrum of musicianship can in every way be compared to one shitty day of page-turning for a bitchy piano player in choir class. Errr!
So I am glad to say that the week is almost over. Despite the whole crying in lesson (well, almost...) an infected ingrown toenail, these dumb whores being all around all the other irritating things... PMS has been mild, and it's been an ok week. At least, a lot better than the one where I had to see my mom stuck with several million tubes (yeah, she was hospitalized a few weeks ago. Goddammit.)
AND... although we're still on Scary Larry's trail, I've calmed down a bit and am thinking of just letting the police take care of it rather than going to his house and breaking both his fucking knees. Ha ha. I think that things are going to work out. I am putting too much into that situation. Things happen for a reason. I have to NOT let my past experiences play into my 'fear and loathing' for people in the present time, even though that's hard.
And oh yeah... his IQ is that of Pee Wee Herman's Vaseline Jar. You had to know you'd get caught someday. Stupid fuck.
Night kiddies.
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