21:34 - December 26, 2002
not even a flute player
There are two guys at work who have been friends forever, save for a few mishaps involving trumpet gigs, and one of them has just gotten married to another coworker who the first friend hates. The range of dynamics this creates is amazing. One will yell across the room to show the other one a picture of some hot chick he just found on the internet, like always, and the other one can't come look because his wife is around. Or he will come look, forgetting his wife is around, and then later get chewed out by his wife in the shipping room.

Also, here is the stupidest thing I've ever heard: L (the wife) took up smoking about two weeks ago so that on New Years, when W (the husband) quits (fat fucking chance, the guy will smoke after he's dead), she can 'feel his pain better'. I was unable to be subtle on that account (her dumb ideas abound), and shrieked, 'L, that is the stupidest thing I have ever heard ever! I'm sorry, but it is. If W was trying to quit heroin, would you start shooting up so you could go through withdrawal with him?'
She sort of chuckled and said, 'I wouldn't see the problem with that.'

Argh.
She also has this theory that the majority of people addicted to heroin are so because of the lack of dental insurance in America. I didn't ask, because I didn't want to know, but she explained anyway: 'Heroin heals pain. Dental pain is the worst pain in the world, not that I know, knock on wood, and not that I ever want to know otherwise, but dental pain is so bad that if people can't afford dental treatment someone will just offer them a needle, and it'll work the first time so they'll do it again' (she really talks like this 'and again, and again, and soon enough, addiction! Voila! Someone should write a dissertation on that.'
I was mumbling from the other end of the room. 'What a choice: move to Canada or become a heroin addict.' She didn't get the Canada reference though, of course.
I don't know why she always talks so much about heroin, because she does.

A woman and her daughter came into the shop today, in full on bitch mode because her flute's F key didn't work. (She stormed in the door a few minutes before we closed. At my 'can I help you?' she began in clipped tones: 'My daughter was very disappointed on Christmas morning when she unwrapped her new Gemeinhardt flute because the F note is defective and will not form a tone.) Oookay.
The daughter demonstrated. No F was forthcoming. I asked if I could try. As soon as I put my fingers down, a clear F rang out. Same an octave higher. Same TWO octaves higher. The flute was perfect.
('It couldn't POSSIBLY have been the daughter that was the problem,' snorted W.)
('Maybe it was your child that was 'defective',' whispered D.)'
('Guys, don't be mean...' whined L.)

Typical. I wish things like that would happen more often so I could gloat. I'm not even a flute player.

Oh, and also: I posted a thorough account of... whatever... at the-closet.diaryland.com because the urge hit. It didn't turn out all that bad, and certainly clearer than anything I've posted here.

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