Okay, so I wrote my entry last night and I had nothing to say. That was 10p. It is now 8a. Has anything happened in the intervening ten hours that makes something to write about? Sure hasn't!

I never thought I'd say this, but I sure wish that the cat had jumped on my head and scarred me for life again so that I'd have something to say!

Yesterday was one of those days where I sit staring, like a toad, waiting for the day to start, then go to bed because it never did.

It was one of those days where I took a shower because I was bored, and then sat around in a towel for hours because I couldn't be bothered getting dressed. I think that part of it was the weather--as it was raining and humid all day. Not hot, but the air was oppressive.

And there was nothing on TV. So much nothing that I managed to watch VH1 Behind the Music on the Bangles and the Go-Gos twice each--two and a half times for the Bangles. Apparently, Michael and Susanna skipped Vicki's wedding. Or maybe it was Debbi's wedding. I guess I need to see it again.

It was unique in that there were no drug or alcohol problems with the band, just the unifying hatred that they felt for each other during their success. I guess the key is, have band members that you hate to start with, that way you don't end up losing life-long friends just because you have a hit single.

Cuts out the middle-man.

I do have some stuff to say from The Lost Week, but I'm saving it for back entries.

Does anyone still think that I'm doing back entries? I do, but the rest of you may well just have a more realistic vision of my promises.

For the journallers out there, what do you write about when there's nothing to write about?

And we're still taling about children's books and the first lines quiz, swearing, our parents before they were parents, hair disasters, accidentally writing or talking like other people (see my answer revealed!), being slobs, our top ten songs, conversations, and Australian yumminess.

Today's horoscope:
Friendships are natural on the job, but don't let them keep you from relating to everyone. Exclusion leads to inefficiency.

One year ago today:
He is treating me like I treated my director on my last show, with sort of a polite contempt.

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