� Memoirs of an Evil Genius �
Conquering the World, One Martini at a Time

� Robot and the City �
10:39 a.m., 2004-01-26

Oof. I am soooo tired today. Already I can tell this is going to be the sort of week that you just want to take hostage -- you know, hold a great big gun to its head and tell everyone to move toward the exits reeeeal slow, so nobody gets hurt. My coffee is trying to soothe me, but at the moment, it�s kind of like using a squirt gun on a forest fire.

So who watched the Golden Globes last night? Pretty exciting, huh? If by �exciting� you mean �predictable�, which I totally do. I mean, I�m not trying to knock the winners, or to poo-poo the assuredly excellent work that they do, but�poo-poo. It�s time to see some new blood up there, y�all. Maybe that�s really stupid reasoning -- we should give the award to the person who deserves it most -- but it does reach a point where you have to step back and go, "If Sarah Jessica Parker melts down all her awards for Sex and the City, she could use the metal to build a giant robot and take over the globe." And we don�t want that to happen, do we?

Other things that got accomplished this weekend included a sojourn to one of Hollywood�s apparent hotspots, whereat Kiefer Sutherland trampled May Day and pinned yours truly into a corner for five minutes as I was trying to let myself back inside. I mean, not like I�m all pissed off about it -- it was kind of funny. I was trying to open the door, but this chick in Kiefer�s party had her gigantic handbag placed in front of it like a barricade. So I go to move it, and just before I can open the door, Kiefer gets out of his seat and accidentally backs up into me, kinda pushing me into the corner near the door. I wasn�t entirely sure how to say, "Excuse me, Kiefer -- love your show, but could you move just a smidge so I can get back inside?" So I stood in the corner until he sat back down.

We also saw J. August Richards from Angel, which was pretty cool, given my (admittedly waning) obsession with Joss Whedon. Beyond all of this, however, the weekend was decidedly low-key. Not that I have any problem with that. Sometimes it�s nice to be low-key. Sometimes it�s nice to turn off all the lights and pretend you�re not home when people are knocking on your door and shouting stuff like, "Hey, we�re here to repossess your stereo! We know you�re in there, we heard you playing music on it just a second ago!"

Uh oh. Picketers are back at Ralph�s again. Motherfucker! You know, I love shopping at Whole Foods as much as the next guy, but they don�t use preservatives there! Your shit expires and rots in the time it takes to drive home from the store! GIVE THEM WHAT THEY WANT, RALPH!

And on that note, I�m signing off.

Someone Got Here By Searching For: "fuck the company" And: "Stop being so neurotic" I�m Watching: The Golden Globes. Did Sarah Jessica Parker look like Tinkerbell on crack, or was it just me? And: The Golden Globes (it was long, yo). I think Justin Kirk is my new boyfriend.

A Year Ago, I Said:

"I just fielded a call for Amelia. Never mind the fact that there is no Amelia working here. Never mind the fact that the girl on the other end of the line seems to think my name is 'Salad', which is a really creative re-interpretation of the text, if I do say so. And I do."
U Kan Be Lerned Two Spel Gud, To!
1-24-2003

� 2005 by Dr. No, all rights reserved; you break it, you buy it.



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