Through The Looking Glass

We’re leaving first thing tomorrow morning for Washington, District of Columbia, which is not where Mindi lives. Stupid Washington.

But! We will go to the Smithsonian (I have not decided yet which museum, but probably American History because the Ruby Slippers are there) and see Will’s sister wed. I also have every intention of going straight from the rehearsal dinner to the nearest theater showing Sin City.

The best part (cue dripping sarcasm) is the sore throat/earache that I came down with this morning. This ought to make flying FUN.

Almost done packing. Be back Sunday-ish.

You know that exciting new job I have that I have been very vague about?

Guess what industry it’s in.

And for the love of god, ignore my bad hair. I need a trim.

We’re leaving a screening.

Will: Well, that was god-awful.

Me: Yeah, but Keith Carradine held the door for me. I flashed him my patented Keith Carradine smile.

Will: I wish I was Keith Carradine, so I could see what your Keith Carradine smile looks like.

Me: Actually, it’s the same smile I give anyone who holds a door for me. But don’t tell Keith.

• finish yesterday’s list NEVERMIND I HAVE CAKE

• bake cake

And for good measure: FUCK SHIT CUNT COCK FUCK.

Guess what!

It’s raining.

GUESS WHAT ELSE!

The cocksucking shitface building management still has not repaired the roof. So there is a FUCKING LEAK. AGAIN. Luckily, it is not over any of the furniture that we FINALLY PUT BACK WHERE IT BELONGS, but I am still slightly peeved.

UPDATE: WE’RE UP TO THREE LEAKS. I HAVE CALLED WILL AND ASKED HIM TO COME HOME AND STOP ME FROM TAKING A HAMMER TO ALL THE GLASS IN THE BUILDING (NOT COUNTING OUR APARTMENT).

Shut up, it is too a word. (No, it is. I looked it up.)

So, Will and I are working on a writing project. And I have alluded to it several times, because, well, this is my blog. But being a blog, it’s kind of on the internet, which means that anyone on the planet could potentially read it. Which means I absolutely cannot divulge a single detail if I do not want our creative hard work to go down the toilet because some jerk passes it off as his (or her) own.

I feel kinda bad for being so vague and dropping all these weird hints and not following through. But really, I think you would rather not know what I am talking about than have to read about the law suits we’d have to file and the headache and heartache that would be caused by the potential theft of our genius.

So I will give you this much: It has fencing, fighting, torture, revenge, giants, monsters, chases, escapes, true love, and miracles.

OK. No giants.

• laundry

• eat lunch
• pick up dry cleaning
• freak out because only grown-ups have dry cleaning
• revise synopsis
• make fancy chart dividing up writing assignments
• finish with those goddamn wedding pictures
• organize my clothes in the closet
• price iBooks
• buy milk
• remind Will that the jeweler STILL has his pocket watch and I will cry if we don’t get it back
• um, shower

Happy Birthday, William Fucking Shatner! Is it just me, or did he have hair plugs back in the day?

Sometimes I get SPAM that is so intriguing, I cannot stop myself from opening it. And I’m so glad I did this time! Look what was at the bottom of the message:

However irregular the motion might be, it was sure, if continued, to bring him to land in time, and that was all he cared about just then. When night fell his slumber was broken and uneasy, for he wakened more than once with a start of fear that the machine had broken and he was falling into the sea Sometimes he was carried along at a swift pace, and again the machine scarcely worked at all; so his anxiety was excusable

I think this is the prologue to The Machinist…

I just kneed myself in the nose. I DON’T KNOW HOW I MANAGED IT, SO DON’T ASK.

I’m leaving soon to pick Jenn up at LAX. This should be interesting.

EDIT: I am sorry to report that the most interesting event at LAX today was some knitting that I got done while waiting for Jenn. I hope no one is too disappointed.