fuckin jesus. shit's been busy. i'm frantically typing this before i scramble over to work. the film company is in effect-- after this week we will officially be an llc.
i am officially okay having nothing to do with st. patrick's day ever again. it's not that i did anything last night, because i didn't, i was editing, but people look like fucking jackasses with their green shit and their chains and heineken logos. really? you get all fucked up because this is the day where you do that? i understand the irish pubs going all off and having traditional music and shit, that's cool.
a drunk guy hassled me and chris on bart on the way home, muttering things like "fuckin' bitch ass niggas, i'ma fuck up both of you..." then when we started grinning to ourselves he retorted, "laughing. i'll give you something to laugh about. bitch ass niggas." then he promptly passed out atop his bicycle.
then i was stuck on market with no change for a fiver, so i went to the lovely carl's jr (aka the threshold of HELL) to buy something extremely cheap. i settled for the "spicy chicken" from the gentleman at the counter named Ping, who I felt so, so, sorry for. I placed my order, got a gross and greasy number and moved aside. Then this drunk dude who resembles Blob from X-Men walks up and gestures for me to get in line in front of him.
"Oh, no," I said. "I already ordered." I even smiled at him.
"YOU THINK YOU'RE BETTER THAN ME?" Blob said.
I just sighed and moved to the other side of the counter.
I got home, smoked some weed, and hibernated. Now I'm late for work. Fuck it!!