I'm sitting here at my desk at [insert specialty film studio here] enjoying the most delicious hunk of meat I have ever had the pleasure of putting into my mouth. Don't get too excited though, because I'm not talking about what I used to do on Friday nights on Hollywood Blvd. I'm talking about a hamburger. Get your mind out of the gutter.
Anyway, this burger is out of control. And I don't even like red meat. Correction: I never crave red meat. I don't really mind it. It's just never the first thing I go for. But when you're hopelessy devoted to your future film career and somebody at [insert specialty film studio here] wants you to go get them a burger, you go get them a damn burger. Even if you have to travel to a part of Brooklyn you've never even heard of to get it.
So I'm eating a burger. And it's delicious. And covered in blue cheese and bacon. [And it was free! There's an upside to being someone's bitch.]
My friend and I signed the lease for our new apartment last night, after which we screamed, shouted, and held each other in tender bliss. Our own little apartment! Free from the cold, dead claws of...our old separate apartments! Oh, the rapture! Of course, now that the excitement has worn off a little, there's that whole 'moving in' thing to worry about. However, as I am a vagabond from Los Angeles, I really only have clothes here. And a dresser God left for me to find on a street corner as a birthday present back in March. But even so, the whole process is so...unpleasant. It doesn't help that finals are just kicking in and I'm busy literally every single day of the week.
Why can't I have a bitch?
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