funny if it were Bill Murray

Last night I told Jade that I refused to sleep anymore. I said I'd had ENOUGH!!! I had things to do at night. Read, write, burn ants. So last night the ol' woman went to bed and I stayed up with YouTube until 7:30am before my mind started to play funny games on me.

(Just a quick note to film nerdos: I discovered a video series on YouTube called "Indy Mogul". It's just a bunch of tips and tricks given by these young kids on how to do things on the cheap. How to make fake blood or vomit. How to light different situations. How to make your own barn doors - tons of stuff. Check it out).

Anyway, I'm awakened by The Banshee shrieking in my ears at 10am that we've got breakfast with some photographer in thirty minutes. I crawl out of bed, throwing on the clothes I've worn for the last two days and said Banshee tells me I look like a lumberjack.

I take off the red flannel and put on a shirt with a lion wearing glasses. I briefly wonder why I dress like a ten year old.

We get over to Silver Lake....ug....SILVER Lake. This is not a good place. This is a suburb for the Too Cool For Schools. The dude-bros with faux-hawks and girls dressed like Kurt Cobain meets Fallout Boy meets Nicole Ritchie. It's a painful thing to behold - all these hipsters wishing they had what it takes. instead they've just got tight name brand jeans and cowboy boots. Vests and army hats.

ug.

Jade and I ordered a $17 dollar omelette and split it. (That price is not an exxxageration. Silver Lake is also well known for having well over priced food). The photographer we're supposed to be meeting doesn't show up. We start eating. The omelette is just a thick brick of egg. I ordered fancy-shmancy bacon and mushrooms and GOAT cheese and it was just lightly SPRINKLED on top of the egg-brick. You cut into it and just more solid egg poured out. Horrendous.

The photographer still does not show up.

I'm tired.

My omelette sucks.

A bird suddenly takes a dump on my shirt. We're on an outside patio, so this is quite possible. I just roll up my sleeves and think, "what else?" Before the thought is out of my head a bee stings me right above me butt.

My wife tells me to stop whining and I tell her to shut up before I throw her down a flight of stairs.

The photographer still does not show up.

We finally leave and there's a thorn in my shoe. I take it off to get back to the car.

The photographer calls and tells us we've gotten the time wrong when we're almost home an hour and a half after our initial appointment time. Upon further inspection of our emails we find that.......no, she was definitely wrong. We were on time.


Oh, and I got bit by a dog on Easter.