Pelvic...THRUST!

12.2.05
4:08 PM
Good day. Very good day.
My ego was stroked this morning and it felt wonderful. Reflecting on this event afterwards (as opposed to reflecting on the event before it happened as so many precooks are prone to do…) I realized that my ego doesn’t get stroked that often. I should hire someone to take care of that. Like an Ego Masseur.
I was at the edge of Manhattan at House and while I was waiting to do this Cablevision voiceover audition (what a stupid name for a company. It’s like Bananafruit or Clothingpants. It sounds like something that people in the 50’s would call a video phone- as in the kind of phone that is in your home and has a camera on it allowing you to see the person you are talking to, not a cell phone with video recording abilities) when this recording engineer comes out and asks if, after the Pencilwriter audition I could come in and do hers. It was for Met Life and they wanted me to do a British accent because I do it well (her words, not mine). So after I did the first one, I went it and did the second one. The second was better because it required something whereas the Cablevision was just typical. They asked for a Monty Python-esque voice. I love my job. I kind of don’t want this because that means more auditions at House and dagblam it it’s a bother to get over there. Then again…I like money, so I’ll take it if it’s offered.
After the audition, I stopped by Jamie Baker’s office. He watched my Charlie and the Chocolate Factory commercial and he dug it.
“It doesn’t sound anything like you!” he cried, astounded.
“You’re my agent, Jamie; you should know what I sound like.” I responded.
After that I went home and watched “Old School”. The first time I saw it, the people I was with weren’t “Old School” kind of people. Not to say that they weren’t L.L. Cool J and Slick Rick and Big Daddy Kane, because they were. I just mean that they weren’t the kind of people that really dig this kind of movie. Honestly I think they were unhappy about Snoop’s appearance in the movie. They got jealous. I, myself, am very much so an “Old School” person and loved the move this time around. It had a few scenes with Elisha Cuthbert so, you know, I touched my wang a bit. It was nice.
All in all a good day so far. I am sort of…wait…someone just brought down a cake. God. Damn. This is quite a good day.

4:45 PM
Mm mmm. Cake! Now where was I…? Uh…hmmm…oh yes. I was considering trying out Phat Burger for dinner tonight. I have heard nothing but rave reviews from the security staff for the past few days. They have waffle fries. And a standard burger is 12 ounces. There are big men here who have been unable to finish these burgers. Pussies. One bite, you fags! ONE GODDAMN BITE!
This weekend might be a good…there’s nothing concrete planned or even conceptualized, but I just have this lingering feeling it is to be a good weekend.
Shoot. I hope putting that statement on the Internet doesn’t give me cancer or something.
Speaking of cancer, there’s this shrill old woman who is SUCH a ham. She somehow figured out how to dial zero and now every time anything is wrong she calls me. She tells me the nurses are neglecting her and I say I am not that surprised. Just about an hour ago, she calls up all gasping and coughing and asks to be transferred to respiratory. Hey, lady, can you hear that over your feigned wheezing? It’s the Wah-mbulance coming for you! Wah-oo wah-oo wah-oo! Give me a fucking break. Jennifer Lopez is a better actress than this crotch. “Please (gasp), I need (gasp) respiratory (gasp) the nurses haven’t been here in (gasp) six days (gasp).” Blah blah blah. I’d offer you a quarter to call someone who gives a shit, but you’d waste the whole coin pretending to wheeze.
I think it’s almost time for my break.
Anyone have fun idea for weekend play, cawl me.