Ring-ring-ring-ring-ring-ring-ring, Bananaphone. (Do-do, do-do do-do.)
I should update much, much more.
♥ HoHoHello.
Heyyyyyy yaaaa!
Well, it seems that a new year is upon us, and I'm writing just as much as ever. Good job, Richelle. Tomorrow is the deadline for my Arts & Letter's submission(s), and I have no idea what to do. Without one Michael Walsh at my side, I'm left a little confused and lonerly, but things are fine. After eight uh'cack, I'm going to work on my entry all night. Maybe I can just.. "bang out another hit," as Matt says.
Filming for our second semester shorts should be started by now, but I just.. can't get into the groove of things, it seems. I'm not sure why. I was all gung-ho on making a longer short (hee.), but B&M are set on about five minutes. I have only one actor/ress, Maria, as the reporter. Just one and a half people showed up to Tuesday night's casting call. That was disappointing. We're having more tomorrow, at 1:00 and 7:00.. But, Katie and I have to accompany Mike, in order to help him buy a dress that will fit Ed. Hahahah.
I think some of this semester's films are going to be hilarious, with Mike's and Matt's in mind. Adam's is going to be fuckin' sweet, I think, and Katie's should be awesome, as well. Bill's is going to be the.. the most.. the most something. Probably un-intentionally hilarious. Chris' will be cool, due to the presence of.. Someone adorable. T'hee. Jon's is probably going to be alright. And by that, I mean, I hope he gets eaten alive, while we're shooting it.
I hate him, without bad feelings.
Things are.. swell, I think. Not really. But, what can you do?
The only thing I'd really set my honest-hopes on since being here, got snatched from me, about a week ago. I don't want to go out to the Pub Crawl. I don't want to walk past the smoking section, or the cafeteria, or the open door near the end of the hall. I don't want to see them anymore. I really, really don't.
I am pathetic.
And, I'm sick of that already.
Maybe tonight, I will finish up my Arts & Letter's entry(ies), and set fire to Nathanial, the technicolored dream joint, with Katie, Adam and Mike in tow. That would be excellent.
If not, I'll edit, sulk and sleep.
Lesigh.
«3. richelle.
