In Other News...

So you know I freakin' sent that post as an email to Marc Maron (email from his website) and don't you know that I got a reply back. And he DOES in fact, live in Astoria, like 4 blocks away from me. So THERE, all you nay-sayers who ask me why. Why Astoria? Two words--they rhyme with Farc Faron.

Also, in other news. I hate everyone in my office today. They keep smiling at me. Can't they see my head is in a bowl of snot. I have zero tolerance for pleasantries. Just tell me what the fuck you want from me. I'll do it. Why do people have to take personally the fact that I hate everyone somedays. I don't hate you. I hate everybody. There is such a difference.

Speaking of which, the fucking laundromat lost my favorite brown sweater that Syren gave to me from the Old Navy. It was from a couple of years ago. I wonder if they have more of those long grampa sweaters (the turtle necks that have the double-zipper and go down to mid-thigh). If any of you are O.N. freaks (I just went there for the first time like a tool bag two days ago, and bought my first pair of velour pants... for a tiny film part I got, but they are comfy as fuck, and I was looking for work-out pants for fat chicks, and saw that O.N. had a plus-size section, which won my heart a little--though they could add a little plus to the size of the actual section... all they had was fucking velour... so like 3 fat black chicks can be like.... "oooh, track suits in 4 different colors. yes!" --cause that's what they'd say), and know if they have one of these, I MUST have another. It was the comfiest sweater ever. I feel like a friend has died. Just cause I gave my laundry to the new chick at the laundromat. And I wouldn't have dropped of my laundry anyway if I had time to wipe my ass anymore without someone being pissed at me that I am not doing something I am supposed to be doing with them.

Oh. Tom DeLay got arrested. And God said, "Vengeance is Mine."

It seems like everyone wants me to do things these days. Plays. Films. Writing. When it rains, it pours. But it never pours money.