Friday night Mel and I hopped a car with Dean and Elizabeth…
…and tooled down to the Grove to meet Jimmy and Maggie…
… for an evening at Morels.
The Grove was a regular hangout for us back when we all lived in the Los Angeles area and Morels was our French, stinky cheese, restaurant of choice.
We had a wonderful time, which should be apparent by Elizabeth’s checking out Maggie’s rack and Jimmy’s creepy appearance in the mirror to the right of Mel.
A close up for the vision impaired.
And my earlier fears did not come to fruition. Jimmy did not accost the other patrons which did not lead to someone punching him which did not lead to my jumping in and pounding some accountant.
The night was filled with happiness and joy…
…and some urination.
It was, in fact, a celebration of sorts. Dean and I had finished “Thunder” that day. And since we had created the character of Detective Vallely then it seemed fitting that the Vallelys be a part of the joyful rapture.
We made lots of noise and probably offended everyone within earshot, but no one called the cops or raised the alarm as I’m sure they did not want to look like fuddy duddies in front of our sexy ladies.
After a round of desserts and another round of drinks I vaguely remember us walking around the Grove and ending the night at a bar around the corner with a catchy name that escapes me.
Jimmy and Maggie said their good-byes (as they’d stayed out much too late the night before) and we all hit the road for home. Although I did hear later that on the way to their car Jimmy and Maggie ran into Jimmy’s old friend Bill Maher who refused to let them escape the evening so early.
Saturday afternoon we ended up at the Lussiers. We hopped in the Jag and tooled down to the Ocean where we dined on fish and chips.
After the meal we walked up and down the beach and marveled at the fact that we live so close and yet rarely come to visit.
With the sun setting we made our way back toward the car where I met the only woman on the planet upon which my smooth Southern charm seemed to have utterly no effect.
It was back to the Lussiers where we eat cake and told stories until sleep called again.
Sunday was a final polish of Thunder. Mark Haslett had read it Friday and loved it, but had a handful of notes; three of which we implemented Sunday. Patrick read it Sunday morning and loved it. Dean printed four copies, two for the agents, one for himself and one to be Fed Ex’d to our Fantasy artist (who Dean commissioned to do some Thunder drawings) and I jumped into Last Vamp.
Today we called for messengers to come pick up the scripts. We also sent similar emails to our agents saying that they should get the script today and that Dean and I had a bet. Whichever agent reads it first gets the client of the loser agent.
Within an hour I got an auto-reply from Nicole informing me that she was out of town until Wednesday. Dean got a reply from Rob stating that he loved the script but felt there should be a better transition into the third act. Of course, at the time Dean received this email, Rob’s script was still sitting on the front porch awaiting a messenger to pick it up. Nicole later contacted me to state that ICM was going to Fed Ex it to her the moment they got it. Dean called Rob on his fraudulent notes, to which Rob sent more notes. And Lazar was called to step up on ICM’s behalf.
Beyond the agent/spec drama, I spent the day bouncing between Last Vamp and Demonik. I have an August 18th deadline on Demonik and I want to get hour one complete before I hop a plane on Thursday. Lots to do and so little time.
Tomorrow was to be Doom 3 day, although I didn’t think I’d really have time to play it with everything going on. Then Mel stopped in EBX this afternoon and learned that by putting herself on the list she could come back and pick up the game tonight. By the way, in case there is any doubt she is an amazingly perfect woman.
Of course, Dean called later and having learned we would be acquiring Doom 3 before him, proceeded to cry like an infant with poopy issues. So, Mel agreed to pick him up a copy when she returned to get mine. However upon arriving she found a Star Wars premiere-like line and the game was sold out to anyone not on the list. Oh well. Sucks to be Dean. But did I mention how amazingly supergodlike Mel is? While standing in line to buy her saved copy she noticed a guy walk into the store with Doom 3 in his hand, still in the wrapper. Mel asked him if he was returning it and when he said yes, she jumped the poor bastard wanting to buy his copy. This of course got the masses in line in front of Mel into an uproar. But Mel offered to buy the guy extra stuff if would sell it to her and the verbal front of liners quickly shut up, being the cheap no-accounts that they are.
Anyway, Dean got his copy. I got mine.
Guess it couldn’t hurt to play a little Doom 3 tonight, could it?
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