fentopal

My favorite part of going to the cinema:

When the fellow in a seat very near mine shouts out exactly what everyone else sees on screen.

"He got a family, an' iss made o' people!"

Good job, Pokey. I hadn't noticed.

I'm back from the workshop -- five fourteen hour days with no lunch break. I made a few decent contacts and pawned my scripts off to some writers in the business.

My sister is having a girl.

I'm freaking out, trying to catch up with the work I've missed.

Perhaps Ron Burgundy will calm me down a bit.

I'm off to a television writing workshop for a week. We'll see how that turns out.

It's in Buffalo, which will give me a chance to catch up with my relatives and grab a beef on weck, maybe a few texas red hots. Before that I'll be in PA at my brother-in-law's family farm, watching my uncle detonate $400 worth of fireworks and relaxing for...
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The hilarious nightmare that is apartment 5E rages on above my bedroom.

I haven't lived in the city for but a tad over a year, and that apartment has already seen more action than Scott Baio. Previous tenants include an early morning opera singer, a piss-poor guitarist (in it for "the ladies"), a french horn player with an uncanny knack for playing at the most...
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Anyone seen these Hidden Valley ranch dressing ads with the little girl who says she likes it because: "It taste-ess good"?

She's so damn adorable I want to hit her with a bus.

Mariska Hargitay is engaged to be married.

That's put a damper in my five-year plan.

After grabbing some much needed gorceries, I picked up the mail. I swiped open a card from my sister and brother-in-law only to find that it was a condolence card for my roommate, whose grandfather just passed away.

Being the selfish, mail-whore that I am, I neglected to see who the envelope was actually addressed to. Now I feel doubly crap-tastic for opening my roommate's...
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I saw Fiddler on the Roof with Alfred Molina tonight. I was both moved and disheartened by the performance and my inability to shout: "I know who Spider-Man is, Doc! I know!"

A foursome of French folks at the show seemed to love the shit out of me. They kept looking at me and smiling, nodding. After having checked my fly, I could only assume...
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Anybody know a good web designer?

I figure it's time I accept the world of on-line portfolios by finally putting one up.

< ( assimilate, you artist, you. )