biasply

went to an awesome club for our wrap party tonight. it was called the "day after club" i think. it's located right over the wax museum on hollywood blvd and it's not open to the public yet.

frickin' fantastic. didn't stay long, too tired, got an image in my head of the first set of tits i got to play with (they were fantastic real dd's on a petite little 5'1" jewish american princess) and after that there was no point in hanging around and looking at the lesser-than goods.

Update:
Question to ponder.... why does it seem like all the suicide girls are from Oregon, Pennsylvania, or Canada?

Update: 2/26: I feel icky. Just really really icky. Just plain gross in fact. I should take a shower, but i can't generate the gusto to justo get up and do it. I haven't left the house all day. I want to go drive 20 miles to my burbank gas station just to *do* something today. But instead i'm here typing about it. Tomorrow i have a shitpile of stuff to do. Finish script coverage, plant it at work, clean the breakroom, drive 60 miles to newport to drop off my car, drive back in time for the oscars @ my friend's house, etc...

Thought cartoons never died huh:

Benny The Cab:


Benny's Corpse... r.i.p.


I brush sometimes....do you?