Today I got my diary. I hate it. It was too expensive. The sales man was too cheery also. I hate cheery people. I hate people. I sometimes wish that the world would explode so that I could be left in peace. I had a dream last night that I was riding a missile down to the earth and my name was Dr. Strangeglove. I don't like dreams.
Day 2I needed a job, so I got sent to the Opera by the employment agency. I mean it! My life sucks! Of all the jobs I had to get, Opera! Gosh! And of all the opera houses! Paris? I mean, please! So I went into the opera. It was fancy. I hate it. Then I had an audition. I hate auditions. I sang like the most totally beautiful thing in the world, and all I got was a part in the chorus! Gosh! I hate the chorus! I hate opera anyway! I can't stand it here!
Day 3OMG! As if my life could get any worse! There's this dork ballet girl and she like thinks she's my best friend. She follows me everywhere, and it's just talk, talk, talk! I can't even get a word in! I hate her! Her name is Meg. Hate that name!
Day 4Oh, boy! Life is full of unexpected crud! I met the Diva. She's a snob. I hate her!
Day 5Today sucks! I was TRYING to get a moments peace when guess what happens? A stupid, disembodied voice comes singing through the walls. Like, not cool! So I say, "The person at extension 666 that's my room number is not available."
The voice stops singing. I bet he's just like, "Hey, I thought I was doin' real sweet!" Whatever!
So he says, "Christine?" That's my name. I hate it! I hate this guy worse, though. He's got one of those overly pretty voices. I can just imagine him standing behind a trap door; all girly and wussy. Bet he's got Bambi eyes and curls to boot. I hate pretty-boys!
"What do you want!" I demand.
"My dear, Christine..." he begins.
"Uh, like I don't even KNOW you!"
He just continues like I'm not even there! "Christine, I have been watching you for several days now. I must say that I greatly admire you. You are very attractive, polite, and charming, yet full of spunk and nerve."
I was like so not listening! I was opening doors and tapping walls looking for the invisible-homeboy. I had my cudgel. What a sucker!
"I have also heard you sing." He was saying.
"Yeah?" I asked. So?
"You have talent." He said.
DUH!
"Yet you need training..." He left the word training hanging in the air. I knew what that implied. He was offering his services. Like, NO WAY JOSÉ!
"Oh, and I guess you think you're the guy to do it?" I asked.
"Well..."
"No. I have a GREAT punk-rock voice. There is like not a chance I'm gonna change it!" I snapped.
"My dear, I am simply wishing to help you fulfill your carrier as Opera Diva." He said in his sick-sweet voice.
The guy wasn't listening.
"Look, I don't need no homeboy!" I said.
"Don't need ANY homeboy." He corrected.
That's it. I though. I'm gonna kill him!
"Come, my dear. Paris will worship you!" He exclaimed.
"Yeah, sure," I said sarcastically.
"Ah! You accept?" he asked. He was happy. What a chump!
"Whatever." I said, thinking I could have some fun before I ditched him. (Or killed him.)
So he gets into all this music theory. I'm, like, thinking, this is so first grade. I sang everything as badly as I could until the disembodied nerd was about to burst a blood vessel. Then I sang perfectly. It was driving him nuts, I could tell.
Then he gets into this LOOOOOONG speech about love, music and eternal glory –ya know, that sort of thing. I pretended that I had left the room, so that when he was done he kept asking, "Christine? Christine? Are you there? Are you well?" and wot not.
I had to bury my face in the pillows to keep from laughing. When he's finally at the end of his rope and practically sobbing I yawned real big.
"Woopsie, must have dozed off." I said in my annoying baby-girl voice. I could almost feel his frustration. It was great. What a looser!
Ok, that's all. Review now. Ta-ta.
