Forgive the monkey chatter but it’s the only way I can get it down fast enough. When the brain won’t say what it has to say, when I can’t stand the humiliation of the truth I put the words down anyway–it’s what I have to do.
The night I met Brad I screwed him every which way I could think of, not that he didn’t have a few ideas of his own on that score. So he used mine and I used his and that’s all it was supposed to be anyway and of course it didn’t turn out that way but you never saw that coming, did you? I saw him coming, and he saw me coming. Hardeehar. Some day, I’ll tell you about that first night. Blow by blow, all puns intended. Hoppityhop, hoppityhop. He was my bear-man. Not too hard, not too soft. Not too cold, not too hot. Jist rite.
The first rehearsal for the movie’s tonight. That’s right, I’m an actress. Surprised, right? I’ll bet. Whoops. Whoa. I know what you’re thinking. Just to get that straight, the Brad I’m talking about is not that Brad, okay. Phony name. ‘Course, this is Hollywood–everything’s phony. From now on Sarcasm will be in bold. I’m nervous, like throwing up nervous, and not “Time to lose some weight” throwing up either. I’m also really tired. You don’t get rehearsal time on movies ever anymore and it’s a real treat, even though I had to insist on it and make my agent put it in the contract. But I’m on an emotional roller-coaster. Things couldn’t be better and things couldn’t be worse. I just hope it’s good. Get the laughs and move on. Community theatre. Big fucking deal. Clean up the house, take another nap. Get a little fresh air and exercise. Stop the mind. Stop the mind.
BH
[tags]Brenda H, funny, comedy, novel, stories[/tags]