On Deadlines

These are probably some of the most fun things about my business. They go whizzing past us day after day - almost like the point, in some people's cases.

Sorry this is up so late in the day. I spent this morning chasing down a deadline and suspect it's done a loop somewhere up front and is circling round to bite me on the ass.

Sometimes that can be quite fun, too.

Yesterday evening, ES decided to treat me. And I've got to admit, that goes down very well at a time when you feel like the universe's latrine. And I really enjoy the fact that I'm not part of a run-of-the-mill relationship - that we're both a little off-centre when it comes to issues of sanity (although I maintain that, despite all appearance to the contrary, my phone actually does reach my desk, metaphorically speaking).

Let's see. ES desperately wanted to see a particular video starring a particular Paris. So I scored a copy of this month's "Hustler".

It's an entertaining read and, yes, there is a bit of misogyny - which I'm not fond of in the slightest - but at least the pictures make up for that. It's also very obvious that Mr Flynnt was in no way the top of his class at school and that he spent his childhood kicking meadowmuffins around his farm lot. But bless his soul for what he did for Freedom of Speech. Its one of only a few principles I firmly believe in - even if I disagree with what the person practicing it has to say.

Our differences are what unite us, usually through warfare, and it's essential that they're protected.

The movie, it turns out, features said Paris just about comatose while some dude who thinks he's just The Man jerks around in what looks like the throws of epileptic seizure. It was so boring, by the time we'd finished cleaning the kitchen, Ms. Hilton had shifted her weight twice and fallen asleep probably double that.

What some people do for fame!

Mmmm... Maybe I should give it a bash?

Nah. Wouldn't work. You see, my folks are humble, happily married middle class folk who failed to abuse me as a child or lock my sister up in a cellar. In short, the world wouldn't give a brass farthing what I've been up to.

Back to the point: which just snapped against my heels.

There was an "FHM", a copy of "Dolores Claiborne" and a "PS" chocolate bar to boot. It was better than winning the Lotto! (Because it's far more probable, especially since I don't actually buy Lotto tickets. I'd forfeit a Quick Pick for a box of Stuyvie Blue any day!)

I'm sitting waiting for TARGA files at the moment. So I intend to sit here and shop around for markets for TC and HC.

Haven't had any response on the other two yet, but I think waiting around to hear before submitting is probably the same as hoping to win the Lotto even though you don't buy any tickets.

And with that, I bid you all adieu until the next installment.

Cheerio!