This Is What I Do (Sometimes)

So you want to know about the script, huh? I started it in early 2004 when I took a screenwriting class. The focus of the class was to teach us to write by using a story from our own lives as the basis for our scripts. I picked when my parents broke up, which I found out about on the last day of my freshman year of college. Part of the reason I think I'm having difficulty finishing (aside from my obvious procrastination and fear of success/failure)is that it's still such a vivid memory. I'm trying to fictionalize the events some too, which means screwing with my reality and it's kinda fucking with me a little. Though I can't describe exactly how.

I seem to be getting bolder with my soon-to-be superstar efforts. About a month ago I entered a screenwriting contest and just last Friday I BARELY made the deadline for a tv pitch competition I'd only heard about the day before. It really pays to have a few ideas just sitting around in your brain, I tell you what. The good thing in all this is that I've stopped letting so many little things get in my way. Normally? If I had found out about a contest like that the day before I'd have said, "Oh well, maybe next year." But this time I made every attempt to get an idea on camera and sent in.

I hope the fact that I was bloated and hadn't had my hair fixed won't sink my entry. Really, internet. I looked like shit. The boy did some trial shoots so I could work on the pitch, and OH MY DEAR LORD IN HEAVEN. If someone showed you the video and said I was permanently fused to my sofa because I'd gotten so fat I literally COULD NOT MOVE, you'd have no trouble believing it. I made the boy cut the shot off at my shoulders so my HUGE PENDULOUS BOOBS and MAGNIFICENTLY BLOATED BELLY could not be discerned.

Also, a wonderful thing has happened today: I've written my first film review for my new freelance job. I took the boy to the screening last night. We felt all privaledged to sit in the press seats allllllll the waaaaaaaay in the back of the theater. Though I know the boy probably would have preferred the 6th row. If he goes blind it'll be in a movie theater. A note to all those who like to use the last row as a transfer aisle to get to the other side of the theater: DON'T. You are not the first person to think of this and we are tired of moving our feet for you. We will be tempted to trip you one day and won't be capable of stopping ourselves. And also? Stop having such a huge ass. Do you like it when strange ass is in your face? Oh. Ok...Well, we are not impressed, so keep your monsterbooty to yourself. Yeah, thanks hun.

Tuesday Is The New Monday

I was sick yesterday. Well, not really, but on Sunday night I realized I wasn't in the mood for Monday morning, so I used my long standing allergy ridden summer to get myself a mental health day. I got a good bit accomplished: contacting my former career counselor to get recommendations on headhunters for the boyfriend, shower and hair washing, laundry and, most importantly, a good 10 pages of my script.

The upside to my fakery is that I got a three day weekend. The downside is that now I seem to be sick for real. All congested and sneezy and snotty and runny. But woefully back at work and trying desperately not to fall asleep at my desk. Or let the glare from the grease on my late-waking-unwashed-face-having ass blow out anyone's eyeballs. Fuckidees.

Another thing? My lunch sucked donkey dicks. It was this Campbell's don't-add-water soup. Cheese, potatoes, chicken and I think...vomit. Yeah. That was it. I should have known, right? I ended up eating 26 oyster crackers and 5 potato chunks and 1 chicken chunk. And that chicken? I thought it was a carrot. Yup. It was RAW PINK and nasty as all hell. And to top it off it's made me kinda gassy. Be glad I sit alone, officemates. Be so very, very glad. I couldn't even stomach the idea of taking the left over soup home for the garbage disposal...I mean, boyfriend, to finish. It just looked to hideous. Waste not, want not.

Ideas please. What should I eat for dinner to quell the gnawing hunger in my gut?