Friday night Mel and I spent the evening with the Loreys.
And of course a very close friend, Dr. Chopin. When spending an evening with Mr. Tater Vodka there are normally one of three results. Buzzed, drunk and stupid. Friday we got stupid.
At some point the four of us ended up out by the pool. I recall being in the Jacuzzi although I don’t remember how I got there. And to my surprise (Mel informed me later) I had evidently decided to just shuck down to my Calvins rather than go through the trouble of asking for a pair or shorts. This obviously resulted in my flashing the entire neighborhood as my white cottons became see-thru. Dean didn’t notice because he was too busy being Mr. Obsessive Compulsive and would not stop sinking to the bottom of the pool so that he could pretend he was dead. Assuming he was playing dead I let him have his fun. But when no one dove in to save him his feelings were more than a little hurt.
Clearly we had entered the realm of Vodka induced stupid.
I vaguely remember Mel and Elizabeth heading to bed. And this is where Dean and I made our big mistake. He asked if I wanted a bacon and egg sandwich. I said no. This broke all the rules. We should have had food. We should have had a glass of water and we should have taken some aspirin. We had none and went to bed.
The next morning I felt like death. Dean too although I’ve a feeling I was stupider the previous evening and therefore more dead by morning. I said a few prayers to the porcelain god and by noon we departed for Thousand Oaks.
That evening we met the Lussiers for some seafood at the highly tasty fish joint at the commons. But the night was called short because by the end of the meal there was a battle between carbs and left-over evil vodka in my belly and I made the executive decision to go home and go to bed.
Today I’m fine except for this little tid-bit of good luck which Mel discovered after a hard crash. Thus while I should have been working on Magnus I have instead spent the day chatting with Joe Moron at Gateway. Devin kept IMing me to hang up on him but I stupidly refused. After a four hour phone call with a wanker who kept pronouncing DOS as DOHS, I ended up fixing it myself…or at least shoving a Band-Aid on it.
Tomorrow it’s back to work. Got the big SciFi conference call. I’ll get notes which I’ll let brew for a day or two before jumping into the script full force. Dean’s got 70 pages in on his Thunder rewrite. And I’ll take the next couple of days to solidify Magnus. Patrick and I will be heading to Universal to pitch Narcosis although I’m still waiting on the whens and wheres. And I should end up with a Demonik meeting to discuss the new direction for the film version as well as some expected dialog polishes on the prototype game level. But this is all a good thing because you know what they say about all play and no work.
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