tired
asrana told me was the ex-girlfriend of one of my fellow actors. She turned out to have a face covered in white fur and to always wear a giant, giant Marie Antoinette wig; apparently her job was to write lurid period romances and she genuinely believed herself to be Marie Antoinette's best friend. Her books were all written to the exact same formula and you knew if you'd incurred her wrath because she'd write you into her next book, as the octopus that gets served at the giant banquet about two-thirds of the way through.The performance ran away to a local flea market to try to get rid of her, but she followed us there and it very soon degenerated into her squawking "BEWARE THE OCTOPUS, YOU'RE APPROACHING THE OCTOPUS" and us shouting back "HOW EIGHTEENTH CENTURY? NOT VERY EIGHTEENTH CENTURY!" which, as crushing putdowns go, isn't brilliant, but in the end it seemed to work.
I relate this because it's the most interesting thing I can cope with writing this morning. I do not want to be awake and a man is coming to service the boiler but you just know he's not going to bastard get here until midday now. Oh well. Hopefully some things should be arriving from Amazon and then I can at least watch Starsky & Hutch while I wait for him.
Edit : Oh my GOD. Why don't I have Sky? WHY don't I have Sky?
Anyone who does, though, may wish to watch out for this, and report back. I'd be grateful.
E.
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