Remember that asshole, Pete, who told us that he didn't have time to be in a band because of his new record label, that was taking up so much of his time? Fucking liar. He auditioned for Aaron's band a few days ago. Aaron, whose bands never last more than one or two practices. Aaron, who's completely incapable of writing his own songs, and is a mediocre guitarist at best. Aaron, who looks like a complete gimp. Pete auditioned for his band. Of course, Aaron recognized the name immediately, and asked why the hell Pete hadn't stuck around our band. His reasoning? "I couldn't sing the way they expected me to." Fucking Liar. We told him from the outset that he wasn't expected to sing like our old lead singer, Kenneth. In fact, we encouraged him not to. Pete, if you're reading this, I think you're an unreliable asshole and I hope you die. Slowly.
And then there's Freak Boy, aka Brendan. He's "unable to commit" right now. Some things have come up. I don't doubt it. Probably read my journal and got pissed or something. His exact wording in the e-mail was:
hey, i would've gotten in touch with you, but i lost your number and e-mail adress some things have come up and i really can't commit to another band right now, sorry if you want give me your snail mail address and i'll mail back your cd
Does that sound like he's completely blowing us off, or is it just me? Complete fucker. I hope he dies, too.So far, the only one who hasn't abandoned us is Charlie. Or he's been too nice to tell us about it so far. So, we're putting another ad in the CityPaper. I bet Ken would be laughing his ass off, if he knew.
Well, Pia left us for good today. Each of her suitcases weighed 65 pounds--besides clothing, she was also transporting chocolate, office supplies, and pectin (for making jelly). I delayed the time we left the house as much as possible, expecially since Pia put off her packing until the last minute. We got to (Ronald Reagan) Washington National Airport with few mishaps, amazing when you consider the fact that I've never driven there before. We managed to find the check-in counter, and the gate (this place is huge!), where we decided we were hungry and got something to eat. My mother arrived, and proceeded to expound upon various family members' lack of morals. That woman is unpleasant on her best days, and this wasn't one of them.
After two hours of waiting, Pia boarded the plane. While my mother and I were walking back, I started crying and wiping my eyes on my sleeves. I was surprised that I got so upset. But when I thought about it, I dreaded going home knowing that Pia wouldn't be there. She made it a lot brighter, happier. Without her, it was like that house was a hotel. We don't really talk to each other much, and have very different schedules. We certainly don't have anything in common, other than shared genes. And Pia was the only one who'd say to me, "That's not nice, Agent Skatter," when I was being especially cruel to someone, like Dirk. And Pia was the only one who'd dare to kick out Dirk (who's a good foot taller than her) if he was making me cry. I don't know what I'll do without her.
Today was just a bad day all around. I got home to a message on my answering machine from Katie A-, telling me to call her and let her know when we were supposed to get together that night. It was already 8:00 by the time I got home. I'd assumed that Dirk would call and tell her that we couldn't make it, at least not until rather later, because I had to bring my cousin to the airport. Of course not. He thought I would, never mind the fact that I didn't have Katie's number, and it would have been a long distance call from the airport anyway.
I called her as soon as I got home, but no-one picked up, and her answering maching hung up on me. I wouldn't blame her if she was completely pissed.
I called Dirk to find out if he ever called Katie, and found him obscenely eager to get off the phone with me so he could watch wrestling. I almost had a fit. Dirk decided real quick that he wanted to spend some time with me tonight, and we went off in search of Katie (we were hoping to find her at the book store), and we called her every few minutes.
We finally gave up at 9:30, and decided to park the car, smoke a couple cloves, and just take it easy. I remember waking up at 10:40, then deciding to close my eyes again "for a few minutes" because my curfew wasn't until 11:00. I didn't wake up again until 11:34.
You know how quickly you become alert as soon as you realize you're in deep shit? That's what happened to me. In less than 10 seconds, I was buckled up, ready to drive, and trying to wake Dirk up so that he'd be ready to hop out of the car when we got to his house. When I got home, my mother was still asleep. However, never one to leave these things to chance (especially when the end result could be my confinement to the house for the entirety of the weekend), I went in there and told her I'd been rear-ended, but the car that hit me didn't stop. Before you start squawking, remember: this isn't a complete lie. I did get rear-ended...about a month ago. I didn't tell my parents because there really wasn't any damage, aside from a few scratches. I just got a little creative with the dates.
The response I got was disappointing, to say the least. Far from freaking out, she just mumbled, "Is the car okay?"
"Yes."
"Are you okay?"
"Yes."
"That's good." And she promptly went back to sleep. Whew!