Times

Everything I know about football, I know from listening to my dad place bets with his bookee (sp?) and from George Carlin.

I bring this up for 2 reasons. 1) RIP George Carlin. A motherfucking genius. 2)I'm blown away by the skill of writing for Friday Night Lights... and I might be writing a spec script for it.

Hey! I'm walking here!

While walking across the street I got clipped by a woman driving a minivan. Yes, I'm fine. No, I didn't get her plate number. No, she didn't ask me if I was ok, or say Sorry. I was walking with the light. No, no one asked if I was ok once I got to the other side of the street, and I don't know I'm so bothered by that. One woman did kinda give me a look, but I don't know if it was a ' I can't believe the nerve of that lady' or ' I can't believe that you said that.' Cause those words that well bred women don't use? Oh, I used them.

I have lungs.
Two of them
I used to swim daily. I sing. I run.
I have a voice that projects without my intent.
So when I started flinging obscenities... they were flung with great force. I'm not necessarily proud of that fact that I screamed like a banshee, but holy crap had she been going a little faster, had I been slower to push my left and arm against the car to get out of the way, I could have been seriously hurt. My left hand and arm are sore, and I suspect that back muscles of left side will make their presence abundantly known tomorrow.

Thwarted

sat down at desk.

C called.

Then Mom called.

then I spilled my beer all over my desk -- including a graphic novel that belongs to Curmudgeon This is...very not good. I mean, it was good beer, but books are sacred and I try really hard not to damage any of the ones that are under  my care---especially if I don't own them.

Then TD called, computer crisis, then NG called for clothing consult.

and.. then at around 11, I finally started writing. My eyes are killing me, so I guess  now would be the time to shut down. I got rid of 3 pages, and wrote 4. So, I'm up ... one.  And I just wrote  END of Act 1.. which is the most difficult for me. I usually try to cram too much in to one place at one time.

Dear Spec Script: 

Stop Sucking.

Thanks.

PS-- handy dandy chart that was made last month that clearly detailed page numbers and act breaks? Please, come home.

Fail!

For those of you who don't roam the streets of Midtown at lunchtime,  The Treats Truck is a truck- which is a bakery storefront.  They sell tasty snack s for reasonable prices.

It was supposed to be parked on 38th, near 5th. But Alas, at Noon, this was not the case. I was thwarted in my quest for a raspberry brownie.

I ended up getting lamb and rice from the Rifiki's cart on Madison and 28th.  So very very good. 

Saw 88 Minutes last night.

If Al Pacino's character was a heroine in a genre romance, I would have stopped reading 10 pages in, as I would have found said character far too stupid to live.

Close Up

The magazine decided against the 6 week follow up, so only the 'before' photos made it to print. Behold! Me! With Make up! 

Tomorrow I firm up plans for creating a Medical Narration  demo cd.  These are exciting times. No. Really. I swear.