Since the strike began, I've found myself with a new sense of purpose. That purpose is: get sleep whenever I can. Mondays find me working 5:30am-noon at the gym, running home to take out Daisy, then hopping in my SuperCar and heading over the hill to picket at NBC until 4pm. I get home 'round 5, take the WonderDog back out, answer email, write a wee bit, then collapse on the couch until Mr. Boy gets home. We scrounge up dinner, then I collapse back into bed to start another variation the very next day.
I am attempted to shoehorn into this schedule: daily blogging, vlogging, exercise, proper nutrition (unlike the three cookies and mug 'o caffeine I just had for breakfast), outlining/researching the new screenplay, freelance job, enjoying the fruits of marital bliss, and oh yeah, I just had an idea for a wee Internet Show I could produce all by my lonesome.
I am tired, people.
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Yesterday, our fearless leader Patric Verrone came out to our picket line.
Being writers, and thus nerds, we jumped around like puppies at his arrival. Much to the embarrassment of Wan (pictured above) and Tomas, I insisted we perform our multiple cheers. Because I am Queen Nerd.
We also had a visit from a boy named Robert and his mom. Robert brought Lottery Tickets and Scratchers to hand out to everyone on the picket line.
Finally, my belt buckle means I MEAN BIZNESS:
(As always, more strike photos can be found on my Flickr.)
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THE LOS ANGELES BLOGGER MEETUP: Monday, December 17th 8:00pm-???
I have not heard back from the Red Pearl Kitchen (which, BTW, has 25% off for Guild Members, but I swear I had no idea!). I may actually have to call them on the phone. Please reserve this date in what I know if your already-packed social calendar, and email me if you haven't already if you'd like to go.
Speaking of holidays: Will is doing a month of holiday posts over at his blog. BetheBoy Holidays make merry with Holiday Porn and Shoplifting Santas.
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Also, today is the First Anniversary of the Slackmistress & BetheBoy Detective Agency! In case you're wondering what would possess a somewhat sane girl to agree to marry a boy within six weeks of meeting him, start here. (Read from the bottom up.)
