The other day I texted my friend about my plans to record a click track of my e-drum in waltz time. After I recorded the click track, I planned on recording the guitar/vocal track for "Fuckface On Monday and Fuckface On Friday" to the click track. In the days before this text exchange with my friend, I had spotted the usb cable that connects the e-drum to the computer in a place where I keep guitar picks, tuners, and whatnot.
Sometime after my announced effort to record the click track for "Fuckface On Monday...," I opened the box where I last saw the usb cable and it wasn't there. I looked in other places for it and still no trace of it. "Schmaylor!," I exclaimed to myself. I texted my friend about the situation and my suspicions about Schmaylor, and he never wrote back. So I ordered another cable and got it this past week. Today I initially attributed my missing olive oil spread to Schmaylor, but I eventually found that. One out of two will have to do.
Before I found the olive oil spread just now, I speculated that the League had reached out to Schmaylor after I'd kicked her and hers to the curb around this time last year. I ate with Vernon Hoe in a Luby's in early December, 2023, right, and I mentioned how I'd kicked old Schmaylor to the curb, and he didn't say anything. Now's the part where I talk about how this may be all in my head and blah, blah, blah, so there it was. Maybe Vernon and the League like her style. Well, fuck me running!
The only thing I can think to do about this situation is to not have a love interest from amongst any of the women in my world. I can do that and just be ready for any old turd thing that rolls down the chute, I guess. If the ghost of Mary Queen of Scots starts flirting with me, I guess I will try to keep an open mind about that, I suppose.
Sometime after my announced effort to record the click track for "Fuckface On Monday...," I opened the box where I last saw the usb cable and it wasn't there. I looked in other places for it and still no trace of it. "Schmaylor!," I exclaimed to myself. I texted my friend about the situation and my suspicions about Schmaylor, and he never wrote back. So I ordered another cable and got it this past week. Today I initially attributed my missing olive oil spread to Schmaylor, but I eventually found that. One out of two will have to do.
Before I found the olive oil spread just now, I speculated that the League had reached out to Schmaylor after I'd kicked her and hers to the curb around this time last year. I ate with Vernon Hoe in a Luby's in early December, 2023, right, and I mentioned how I'd kicked old Schmaylor to the curb, and he didn't say anything. Now's the part where I talk about how this may be all in my head and blah, blah, blah, so there it was. Maybe Vernon and the League like her style. Well, fuck me running!
The only thing I can think to do about this situation is to not have a love interest from amongst any of the women in my world. I can do that and just be ready for any old turd thing that rolls down the chute, I guess. If the ghost of Mary Queen of Scots starts flirting with me, I guess I will try to keep an open mind about that, I suppose.
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