Tuesday, September 06, 2005

Crazy Lady

[as sung by Tom Jones and/or a Barry White zombie]
Crazy Lady!
That Crazy Lady!
Doo doo doo
Doo doo doo
Doo doo doo [trombone gesture as this is the part where the horns kick in]
Craaaaazy Lady.

A wooden fence divides our backyard and a titty bar. Nora said she saw one of the dancers smoking outside and she was "not cute."
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Sorry I'm not so good at the blogging these days. I'm not so good at the 'forming complete sentences" either. Since my unemployment tour began August 31st my brain has also been on its own tour. Of inconsistant blabber. Half jokes. Ums. Uhhs. Hmms?

Tomorrow we've planned a day of writing. I am going to slap down some discipline and leave my wifi card at home so I can't check my email. Enough already. Just do the rewrites.

Like after a big house party, when there's sangria stuck to the countertops, the gutter hanging from the roof and beer bottles littered all over the yard . . . you just have to open Final Draft, hold your nose and clean up!

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and lest we forget - The Alamo.

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