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I am a Los Angeles-based twentysomething. I have a profession, and I have a secret life in music, and this blog isn't about any of that. I like Blogger because I can't read what you're thinking.

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Friday, November 20   >>

THE TONY: I'm not that sexist.

I had the most bitching, amazing, most fucked up and ridiculous doubles tennis game last night. I'm going to wake up with aches and pains and, UNGH, feels good to get my ass kicked in straight sets.


Redeeming, albeit sexist, fact: Lost in 3 straight sets. Not 2.




I'm meeting with a lawyer today. I hope his name is Bob Loblaw. Babs Labla?


One of my piano students's mom is such a fox. Like, the epitome of MILF. And she knows it. She's bad. *SPANK* Just kidding. Well, maybe. This is the thing. She likes the attention, and she wears the liking on her sleeve. For instance, last week I went in and she was sweeping the kitchen floor. "OH, MY GOODNESS, I'M SORRY, I LOOK SO HORRIBLE RIGHT NOW...! *GIGGLE*" She was donned in full make-up and, swear to god, was dressed as if she were going to go for light, afternoon shopping at The Grove (that means full-on cleavage action). She is kinda weird. In the middle of her daughter's lesson, she came into the piano room and watched us for the remainder of the hour with a glass of wine.

It was 4:30 p.m.

This woman. Is bat fucking crazy.



The Wallflowers are incredible. I'd only known of this song from the months of its original release, but I revisited their work to learn how to play rock organs. You really can't learn rock organ from a better group.

And in a lot of ways, this has become my theme as of late. I'll make it home with one headlight, even though I'll get pulled over for illegally driving with a busted light. But it's cool.