| when the day is done |
[Feb. 11th, 2008|09:33 pm] |
my back and leg hurt. i promise to cut down on drinking alcohol.
phone call from alex, the marrying idiot. blissfully announced that girlfiend will just need to sing a quarter of an hour, because his aunt, who is allegedly "singing" at the ceremony wishes to sing at the reception AS WELL. considering said aunt's health status and the fact these could be last wishes, alex might be glad to have girlfiend on hand for impromptu funeral music. also, so called virtuoso pianist cousin who was supposed to accompany is in depression.
trying to convince girlfiend to present bill all the same. more convinced than ever that whole shebang should be avoided. keeping sudden gastric flu attack as plan b.
nevertheless repetitions for dream a little dream duette continues. v. fun.
"he gathered all of his resources, plucked up courage, and gave her one of his special glances that would hopefully see him in with a chance, when he realised that she was very tearful, if not completely crushed.
the handsome prince swallowed a wave of guilt, as the beautiful maiden now openly stood before him sobbing her heart out. realising that something was terribly wrong, the handsome prince put all of his hang-ups on the shelf and asked, "what are you so inconceiveably sad about, if i may be so bold to enquire?" the beautiful maiden gave a big sigh, which seemed to last a lifetime, as the handsome prince sat on the edge of his metaphorical seat in preparation for her answer. she announced, "i've just seen my therapist, who's convinced that i have a bordeline personality disorder with narcissistic traits which means i'll be unhappy all my life as nobody will be able to measure up to the fantastically high standards that i just can't help but impose on them." |
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