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Seething Cakes of Hatred

Making pancakes, as I learned at AP's birthday bash at the beach this weekend, is an unbelievably tedious chore. I don't know why I...

Friday, September 03, 2004

My Muse Has Spoken Slurred

She woke up. My muse came out of her margarita-induced coma, vomited her idea out, muttered something incomprehensible, and passed out again. But I managed to jot down everything she slurred, and I think I got enough out of her to begin rewriting this weekend.

In addition, I have many friends to thank. Patrick called me with an idea this morning, and Pony e-mailed me with another idea that will most likely find its way into the script. The comments yesterday had some great ideas too. Even if I don't write The Osmond Family Christmas right now, that is such a great idea that I have to eventually bring it to fruition. Nobody knows the Osmonds like I do. I remember watching a television special with my ex, CT, and the Osmonds were singing. Alan, Wayne, Merrill, Jay, Donny, Jimmy and Marie were all singing. Then Tom came out to join them.

"Who's that?" asked CT.

"That's Tom. One of the hearing-impaired brothers. But I don't know where Virl is," I answered. "I hope Virl is okay."

"You know the names of everyone in the family?" he inquired.

"Yes. The parents are George and Olive," I told him. He was surprised until I reminded him that I cried when I read the book, "On Tour with Donny and Marie," when I was 12. I wanted to be an Osmond so bad that it brought me to tears of frustration to realize I may never tour with Donny and Marie.

But I'm not here to talk about Donny and Marie today. I'm here to talk about the "Ole Cafe" downstairs at my office. I get breakfast there every morning. Today I went in and ordered my usual breakfast sandwich. "We ran out of english muffins, but we hid one for you and told the other customers we were out," said the girl behind the register. That made my morning. But I'm not here to talk about breakfast sandwiches. I'm here to talk about The Handsome Prince.

This morning The Handsome Prince told me something that he wasn't supposed to. It was a secret about someone he works with. He said I wasn't allowed to tell anyone I know this secret. "You already told me that secret last week," I said.

"Great. Not only did I tell you something I wasn't supposed to tell - I told you twice," he said. I love that boy. He makes me laugh every single day. This morning he didn't greet me with his usual, "Good Morning, Mary Sunshine," because I told him last night (over a drunken feast of Taco Bell) that I hate it when he says that to me first thing in the morning. I'm kinda grouchy in the morning. But I'm not here to talk about how grouchy I am in the morning. I'm here to talk about...

I forget.

Oh, yeah. My muse woke up. I guess you probably could have guessed that after reading this rambling post.

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