I Let My Fists Do The Talkin’

My throat is killing me. It came on all of a sudden today with no warning. I can’t tell if its a cold, since I have no other cold-like symptoms. It may be a reaction to pollen—I’m not generally allergic to anything in particular but a couple days in the fall and spring I sometime will feel crappy when the ragweed reaches critical mass.

Our toilet broke, which is a mere ellipsis in the hilarious picaresque adventures of our crumbling bathroom (subtitled “A Tragedy in Three Subfloor Replacements”), but was fixed before the day was over. Score one for Prestigious Management.

Cakey 3 is all in the can—we wrapped at 10 PM yesterday—but has to fight for our editor’s attention since he has another short film due the exact same day. This month went far too fast for us and as we learned from the other 102 prime timers, the feeling is common. None of those at the prime time panel on Wednesday had finished their shooting (one party hadn’t started yet).

I have… no leads… on the job hunt. I was despondent about in Tuesday, and still have no idea where my next meal is coming from. I have again come around to the conclusion that the only way to get a job anywhere is to know the person who hires you. Every job I’ve ever held I got in this way. I also observe that every job I would possibly apply for and have spit’s chance on a cast iron skillet of getting either requires mastery of a.) Flash or b.) Quark. I have no use for either of these programs in my life up until this point.

These are the only two programs that matter in the entire world. If the whole world was the monster.com graphic designer listings, a Sinbad-like stand up comic would be making loud observations about how Quark be different from Flash.

I want to buy new wigs.

This entry was posted on Friday, April 21st, 2006 at 1:33 am and is filed under Progress.