Geez.

Had to endure yet another phone call from my mother who thinks I have no life. (But I had some Al Green on in the background so it wasn't as bad...he was backing me up with his sexiness.) She seems to know more about the online dating scene than I do. So I go to the site and just cringe at the sheer annoyance I get from reading people's bios.

Adrian from SF says he is "financially stable, mentally mature, energetic, cute..." etc etc and blah blah shit.

Everything is relative, isn't it? What's the standard he's comparing himself to? Just because he thinks he's mentally mature doesn't mean I don't think he's mentally retarded just by reading his retarded bio. I mean, good for him that he has enough self esteem to think he's cute, but how does him thinking he's cute sell me on wanting to contact this dood? I'm sure I'm just as retarded by blogging about it, but boy, I hate these online things.

Excuse my slower than usual typing not that you can see me typing but I am currently typing with one hand as the other is holding a popsicle which my mouth is eating. Ok, done.

So the cemetary music is going just swell. I wish regular orchestra could be like summer orchestra! And plus, my favorite oboe guy just showed up this week! He's this small older gent with a cute European accent, and his oboe playing is just some of the most beautiful music I've ever heard. He always hits his notes right on, and his sound is just so sweet, listening to it is like drowning in sugar. He is that good.

I've actually been practicing (not as much as I should be, as always) and I'm getting a little better. I always feel really good after rehearsal, like I've accomplished some great feat. In fact, I wish I could be practicing right now, but it's late.

Goodnite blogworld.