Fade To:
Int. Daylog. Night.
*ahem*
I don't
ever,
ever,
ever want to hear someone say that janitorial is a
shit job for people who flunked
high school.
With the end of the summer (Yes, August is the end of the summer here in the
Yukon) and in the wake of a couple of recent
firings, I've been left as lead
bartender at the
club I work at. (A large, shoe-shaped starship has also left me as lead bartender at a club I
don't work at.)
Huzzah for me and all, what with the increased 'tending tips
and such, but it also makes me the
lead janitor.
Huzzah. Spending a quality half-hour cleaning
encrusted,
bright-
crimson,
fibrous vomit from a well-used toilet gives great credibility to the
stay in school arguement.
Endless and undying respect goes from me to those who spend their working days cleaning up for the rest of us, everywhere we go.
Whereever you go, there is a janitor.
Cut To:
Int. Rambling. Night.
I'm to play
Banquo in a modernized,
Anime-
ized,
Kung-Fu,
silent (with
thick Scottish accents dubbed over top), subtitled version of
MacBeth. Highly excited about this, even though I've got to start getting into better shape. I guess being 160 pounds stretched over six feet and
four inches doesn't make me look like a Kung-Fu master.
Fo shizzle.
The director/writer/producer is keeping the entire project entirely local, and, from the looks of it, entirely volunteer. And then wants to get it distributed. He says
Troma is his last resort. I could be in a Troma movie. Kick ass.
My army of
Warhammer 40,000 (I present you with the longhand, as acronyms are a detriment to communication) mu
TANTs continues to expand. The
Lost and the Damned army list
r0ckz0rz. My
Defiler is miiighty. Mightily unpainted. Balancing it properly so it could be brandishing its claws was a pain, but well worth it.
Stabbity, crushy, stompy, shooty, killy death to
Pansies!
sorry
Fade out.
Pipe for the Ages
ziggystarduzt ruleth