Fleekin Floygn

A few things to discuss but first, something so music school-centric I just threw up a bit in my mouth:

I was trying to find an Israeli song via the MP3/Audio search on altavista.com and for some reason it displayed Erik Satie's Gymnopédie (for non-music geeks, this was a funky early 20th c. piece we studied last term whose name is derived from words meaning young + boys + naked + feet). Then I clicked on the link and it took me to http://www.cherry-classics.com/weddings.html which is a site promoting popular wedding music. So apparently among the fans of Jesu Joy of Man's Desire and Ave Maria, some sick shmucks are waltzing down the aisle to a tinkley little piano piece about pedophiles with a fot fetish.

So my big hospital thing is all over and done with, but funny story - it doesn't seemed to have done a lick of good. We were out at the obviously-packed-beyond-capacity Shannon's Irish Pub last night and I could barely shuffle across the packed floor without feeling like I was gonna fall onto someone. Oh well. At least I got to watch What Not To Wear at the hospital. The fact that some boozed up Guiness-slut spilt one all over me didn't help either. There is something about the smell of malt liquor on wool pants that is very reminiscent of sushi, or more specifically the soy sauce mixed with a bit of wasabi that one ingests while eating sushi. I had always been beyond curious as how to manufacture that smell at home, so thank you beer-ho. Thank you.

(Before reading this concluding paragraph, let it me known to all that there exists a very famous opera named Lucia di Lammermoor, ayit?)

Lastly, before Shannon's, we went bowling and as I was not in fact taking part of the physical aspects of the game, I chose instead to be the social animal/guy that changes everyone's names on the screen. One of my friends was blessed with the middle name Lucia. So I changed her name to Lucia di Bowling. I thought it was freaking hilarious. Everyone else didn't, ergo everyone else can suck it.