So I watched that Charlie�s Angels docudrama last night on NBC. It would appear that Monday is prime breeding ground for ham-fisted, derivative pap these days. Not that I�m slamming on the production or anything. I�m just saying it sucked, that�s all. The actresses actually did a pretty good job of imitating the stars of the original series, although it was obvious that the extent of their research was watching lots and lots of Charlie�s Angels. The characters they played were less "fleshed out" and more "freaky exact replicas of the original TV counterparts".
It�s getting down to the wire here at Arts-Friendly, in that Sam�s last day is approaching at an alarming rate. What worries me more than anything is the fact that, as of this late date, they still haven�t announced her replacement. There�s no one up here training to take over in her stead, and I�m starting to feel like that big, sentient sandwich cookie in the Chips Ahoy commercial who�s at the little girl�s birthday party and he goes, "So, uh�where�s the cake?" And the little girl laughs and goes, "We�re not having cake!" and the cookie looks around at all the hungry little faces and realizes he�s not on the guest list so much as the menu. That�s what I�m starting to feel like. I�m all, "So�where�s Sam�s replacement?" and Sophie�s all, [pointed look in my direction].
Who knows, though? She�s probably going to have a replacement eventually. She does way too much around here not to get one. I think. I don�t actually know what she does around here, besides drink lots of Diet Coke and drive whenever we all decide to go out for lunch. I miss her already.
Today it looks like we�ll be going out to lunch at the California Chicken Caf�, which just sounds�wrong. Like, have you seen those obnoxious commercials from Foster Farms with those prating chicken puppets who are always trying to convince everyone that they�re Foster Farms chickens, and are tender and juicy? Which is kind of like hanging out in a death penalty state and trying to convince everyone you�re guilty of murder, if you ask me, but no one did. Anyway, whenever I hear the name "California Chicken Caf�", I immediately picture those stupid puppets sitting at a lunch counter and eating the Blue Plate Special. Except they�d probably really be eating chicken, because they strike me as being creepy and cannibalistic like that.
I finally got to the root of the problem I�d been having with my taxes, in that I was never sent a W-2 by one of my sources of income. So now that that�s all cleared up, I�m free to pay lots of money to submit my taxes and hope the government doesn�t decide to take even more money. Yay. Actually, I should be getting a refund (albeit a pretty paltry one), which should be nice. Of course, the great state of California recently climbed up my ass about never filing a 2002 State tax return, like, who does their state taxes anyway? Sheesh. They�re so fucking grouchy. Anyway, I wasn�t even required to file, which is the best part. I got to write them back a nasty letter, detailing how much money I made in the twelve weeks I worked in California in 2002, and let them know how much I appreciated the big, scary Official Letter Of Possible Pecuniary Encroachment, and also where they could stick it.
I�m not making any friends in the Franchise Tax Board, I can tell you. But anyway, that�s where we are. Now, if you�ll excuse me, I think I feel like�chicken.
Someone Got Here By Searching For: "WHY OUR GOVERNMENT IS SO SCREWED UP" And: people keep stealing my pens I�m Watching: Homicidal, this movie from the 60s that�s about as blatant a rip-off of Psycho as�well, as that assy remake from the late 90s. And: Emeril Live, but only because it was all about dessert! I swear!