I’ve realized I may be having a crisis of sorts. It really didn’t
become very very apparent, until I realized that there was a $400 violin
in my trunk. And I have no idea how to play. And it had been sitting in
there for 24 hours after the initial purchase. Also, the same day I
bought it, I got a new tattoo. I’ll work on getting a decent pic of
that. With my asshole camera. Which is also new.
Have I mentioned that I work in a thrift store, part time, at minimum
wage? When I’m not very casually touching feet as a reflexologist, oh,
maybe once or twice a week. When I’m not very very casually reading
tarot cards?
Crisis.
Some shit had gone down last week. Big hairy stupid dramatic shit.
But it’s all good. Because I bought a Crisis-oline. And I will survive.
I’ll tell you all about it when I’m not fucking raw and losing my shit.
There’s a happy dude dancing beside The F*cker. That’s what I call
the Crisis-oline when it makes that horrific squeaky noise… mostly on
the e string. So, Crisis-oline is also sometimes referred to as The
F*cker.
eeee! eeeee! eeee! It’s terrible. I can’t believe I bought it. I’m a
gawdamn SINGER. How does one sing and play the violin? I should take a
picture of The F*cker. But not in the shower. To show you what throwing
away $400 looks like.
Anyway. Happy Dude.
And, grout still not clean. Don’t care today.
F*cker.
