My cinematic turn as random thug in barfight has come to an end. I still haven't written those twenty extra pages for my screenplay. I'm not sure where to stick them in without them sounding forced. But they need to happen. It sucks that writing is such a lonely occupation. Maybe I could become a painter check out this portrait I drew of my friend:
okay. maybe not. What do you think Mr. President?
okay. maybe not. What do you think Mr. President?
sophie:
whip! the president is FLY! nice middle finger! i know he hates Boog! can't stand him!
dizzy:
I actually like that portrait.