fuzzy red thong.

first things first!! something new! i made some short recordings of me playing some piano pieces. they’re in mp3 format, and pretty small. hooray!

thanks so much for listening! you can charleston to the first. i hope to be in a band some day, a janet klein-ish band with a stand up bass, ukulele, banjo, trombone, and trumpet.

does anyone else put on music and dance with the invisible man? and why not? it gets awful lonesome dancing by yourself. my personal favourites are “when you’re smiling” by louis armstrong and “three o’clock in the morning” by paul whiteman aho. i’m also teaching myself the latter on piano. it happens to be in my music of the twenties piano book.

last night (or this morning, rather) i tagged along with jesse to his ex-girlfriend’s party. not knowing the attire, i dressed plenty nice. as it’s said, “better to be overdressed than underdressed.” and overdressed i was. i wore a black button down collered shirt, a pinstripe pleated miniskirt, fishnets, and my black and white wingtip-ish shoes. nobody dresses nice for anything anymore. i’m like an oasis in a desert of stretch jeans and “hottie” teeshirts.

upon arriving, the door is answered by the host, who was already smashed and obnoxious. her red thong was hanging out in the front and the back of her jeans. classy if you ask me. so she opened the door and ran off to go do whatever she was doing before. i moved onto the porch, where some more mellow people were hanging out.

my friend kristina had a very handsome german boy with her, and she explained she met him online. we marveled at the fact she actually met someone way entirely cute online. you know how that is. he was wearing an iced earth shirt, and i have evan to thank for me actually knowing who that is. so about 45 minutes after being there, the cops show up. they made the host pour out all her liquor (which she at first tried to, but didn’t notice the cap was still on). i met her “boyfriend” brad, who was a quiet, intellectual type. a philosophy major. i couldn’t figure out why he would be interested in her. but anyways, we got to talking, and then he asks my age. i told him, and as it was if i was spraying him with mace. i didn’t know being eighteen was such a scary thing. i like it.

i miss your wild, brown hair. your sneakers with ankle socks. your jean shorts and ugly plain teeshirts. on second thought, things change for the better!

the maintenance people have been here THE ENTIRE TIME i’ve been home. they are here every day, all day, with their awful beeping and whirring noises (migrane central). and when are they supposed to leave? the day i am! 1) they left their trash in my apartment. coke cans and used my glasses. 2) they leave the door open so all my airconditioning is wasted and lets roaches in the apartment. i’ve had to kill four already. i keep this place spotless, so roaches are a total insult. one was even in the fucking sink! 3) they BUST IN any time, and leave all the lights on. is there anything NOT totally aggravating about this godforsaken apartment complex? bang, bang, beep, beep, #$@%!

friday is another party at an angry, cynical boy’s house that i didn’t exactly get along with the first time i came into contact with him. actually, he said i was scary, but has invited me to his shindig anyway. i’m hoping i can get matthew to come as well.

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