they left us banana cream pie at the end of the night, a reward for 7.5 hours of boring boring boring and hell. i think they left it out too long. i feel ready to puke at any minute.
oh, the ignorant people i work with. "jazz isn't really black music." "okay, it's from america, but the french made it famous." .... my head just can't wrap around those statements. i'd go into it, but i just got done venting about it to scott, and all the exasperated mocking has gone out of me.
"sunday comes and all the papers say: 'ma teresa's joined the mob and happy with her full time job.'" oh yeah. primitive radio gods. must love.
my new goal for the summer: paint houses, find bookshelves. clear out room, get ready to live out of cardboard boxes.
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