So, the grand ominous quest to the land of Iowa, where the blond caucasians live and the soy and corn stink up the fog-ridden humid mornings was... I have no clue where I was going with that. Anyway, I went to Iowa with my favorite (sleeping with the) enemy, and had a great time. Stopped in Indiana, where the interstate construction never seems to cease... saw an old friend, one who was once fat, but is no longer, but sort of is... anyway, great to see him, his wife, his kid, and his bun-in-the-oven.
And then there was the opening at Fox Reality in Los Angeles. Well, not exactly for Fox Reality, but that's what it amounted to... couldn't take it for whatever reason, so I did the cool, non-Wilmington-film-industry-thing and gave the position to a friend of mine who happened to be moving from Wilmington to Los Angeles the day after I found out about the position. Oh, how nice of me... (Jon, if you're reading this, I drink for free FOR A YEAR when I finally make it back out there).
And that's how it works in California. People help each other get PA and runner jobs... unlike another faux film community I happen to have lived in, where those that fight for PA slots don't tell anybody else for fear of competition and for the simple fact that many of those fighting for those slots are just assholes.
My favorite enemy looked absolutely stunning at the wedding in Iowa, by the way. So much so, a gas station attendant told her that she made his day. Well, buddy, she made mine, too... and I got to see her in a swimsuit that afternoon. Lick me.
Remind me not to drive over any bridges in Minnesota.
I've been combing my cats with a "furminator." Those work awesome. All pet owners MUST buy a furminator. Seriously.
Padres are in third place? What the fuck? When did the Diamondbacks suddenly start contending? Damn you, Tony Gwynn... unretire already.
And there I was, stuck in traffic on a hot, muggy, Sunday afternoon, when the sky blackened and lighting flew up from the Earth into the sky in what was clearly the strangest weather phenomenon in the last century. Okay, I just made that up, but I had you going, didn't I? Don't lie... you know I did.
By the way... if that person who hates "..." happens to be reading this (and she sometimes does), take this: ... ... ... ... ... ...
Oh, and when are you returning from France?
Right, okay... I'm making zero sense, but that's only because I have a lot to say, no way to say it, and my friend is in the kitchen slicing up chicken while my German Shepherd whines for my attention and my girlfriend ditches me for a mysterious entity codenamed "Andrea" and a cup of white chocolate hot chocolate from Starbucks.
Kick ass, right on, carpe diem, and all that other horseshit people say to egg each other on.
And vote for Clint Eastwood.
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