8.21.07
Went to the
96th street
branch of the New York Public Library yesterday on my break.I'm honestly surprised that more people aren't illiterate.
This place was about a half step above a crackhouse.
Everything about it screamed lack of funding.
It was very depressing.
That depression was replaced by confused elation at my audition earlier today in which I played a shaven Sasquatch, and then it was replaced again by a far more personal sense of depression when I learned that I will NOT be featured in the upcoming Beyonce Armani Diamonds commercial.
The money is still the same and I'm sure I'll buck up when that massive whale penis check comes in but, shit, you know?
That Beyonce thing would have been on the Internet for centuries.
Fucking fickle ass French.
Fucking Ben (Ben is the flaming bag of dog farts that Mr. Armani decided to go with instead of my sexy length).
And again for the fucking asshole fickle French.
And (why the fuck not?) for Beyonce.
What about those other two girls in Destiny's Child?!
How can you just flush their hopes and dreams down the toilet like so much aborted fetal (yes fetal, not fecal) matter?
I can picture it now: Beyonce walks off stage at some goddamn award show and her cell rings.
"Hey Bee, it's one of the girls from Destiny's Child...don't suppose you're ready to do another album?"
"Oh, shoot, I'd love to, but I'm going to be in Idlewild II with Outkast."
"Oh. Okay. Hey, no, that's totally cool. Me and the other girl from Destiny's Child are doing great. But, (minute tremor enters her voice here) it sure would be fun to get the band back together again, you know? (slightest rasp of desperation in her voice here) Keep in touch!"
Click.
Always click.
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