Oh, boy, another disjointed "what I did" post! Everybody loves those.
- I had a dream last night (yes, even worse, it's a DREAM post! God, I suck) that my gal 
ninafarina and I had just moved into a new house, and we threw a big housewarming party to which a bunch of our friends showed up. It was a pretty banal dream, but at the culmination, Shauna took Annie out on the back porch to play, goingferal turned in early because she had to drive home in the morning, and manningkrull and I sat in the kitchen drinking beer and looking at his Paris pictures. He showed me this one of a little antique-looking stone building and said it was his local post office. "This is where I go to pick up my flying dinosaur toys," he said. The thing is, I can very easily picture Manning saying that.
- The good-news-and-bad-news rollercoaster that is the life of a bottom-shelf freelancer continues, as last night I got good news (more work, and thus more money) and bad news (more work, and thus more deadlines). My editors are coming and going lately, and on top of it all, I'm pitching to a couple of national magazines in hopes that something will stick. Despite all this, I'm making a bit of headway on some personal writing projects as well, and someday, I actually hope to sleep for several hours in a row.
- Of course, I'm never too busy to get high and play video games. Last night's used games from GameSpot were WWE Smackdown!: Here Comes the Pain and Call of Duty: Their Finest Hour. The latter taught me that if I were a soldier in a war, I would be a marginally retarded one who wanders aimlessly around the battlefield dangling a clip of ammunition in front of me and staring at the ground until I was ripped to shreds by enemy machinegun fire. The former, as is often the case with used games, didn't come with an instruction booklet, so I spent three seconds getting demolished until I decided to just play Def Jam Vendetta some more. Nothing satisfies the soul like beating the shit out of Noreaga.
ninafarina and I had just moved into a new house, and we threw a big housewarming party to which a bunch of our friends showed up. It was a pretty banal dream, but at the culmination, Shauna took Annie out on the back porch to play, goingferal turned in early because she had to drive home in the morning, and manningkrull and I sat in the kitchen drinking beer and looking at his Paris pictures. He showed me this one of a little antique-looking stone building and said it was his local post office. "This is where I go to pick up my flying dinosaur toys," he said. The thing is, I can very easily picture Manning saying that.- The good-news-and-bad-news rollercoaster that is the life of a bottom-shelf freelancer continues, as last night I got good news (more work, and thus more money) and bad news (more work, and thus more deadlines). My editors are coming and going lately, and on top of it all, I'm pitching to a couple of national magazines in hopes that something will stick. Despite all this, I'm making a bit of headway on some personal writing projects as well, and someday, I actually hope to sleep for several hours in a row.
- Of course, I'm never too busy to get high and play video games. Last night's used games from GameSpot were WWE Smackdown!: Here Comes the Pain and Call of Duty: Their Finest Hour. The latter taught me that if I were a soldier in a war, I would be a marginally retarded one who wanders aimlessly around the battlefield dangling a clip of ammunition in front of me and staring at the ground until I was ripped to shreds by enemy machinegun fire. The former, as is often the case with used games, didn't come with an instruction booklet, so I spent three seconds getting demolished until I decided to just play Def Jam Vendetta some more. Nothing satisfies the soul like beating the shit out of Noreaga.
