Jun 03, 2007 20:51
Wake up, look down, and see the top of my wife's head. The call comes in and it's opening weekend numbers that could choke a horse. Less than three lawsuits. Get to fire some spineless Jr. Agent cocksucker so hard and fast that he cries and can't sit down for a week. Lunch at The Palm on the studio or some fuck producer. The offer to end all fucking offers. Sex with a hostess, the new girl that works at the Tea Leaf, or my next-door neighbor's wife. Or all three. Sarah wins her soccer game. Someone hires Kara Keating. Sign the biggest star in the world, whoever it is that day. Bush is impeached and then shot. Dinner the wife didn't cook. Make the cover of Variety again. Sex with Babs again.
Fall asleep the same way I woke up. Fin.
What? That's not enough words?
Well, fuck you.