Slippery Nipples

Fags = none
Cakes = none
Coffee = half a jar
Irn Bru = 1 x 2 litre bottle
Sex = erm.......
Bruises = 6 new ones
Biscuits = half a digestive (the other half fell in the bath)
Throat = sore
Heid = nipping

After an evening of Equity meetings and slippery nipples, the morning was a little bit hazy...especially after having a Hula Hoop fight with a mate til stupid o'clock!  I kicked my own arse into gear and after sweating in the bath and dropping half my breakfast (digestive biscuit) into the water I got started with my day.

Got the Equity drinks reception at the EIFF almost sorted, got my t-shirts designed and ordered for ActorExpo, chased up my invoices, set up a tonnage of meetings and worked out what scenes are missing from the zombie film I'm making with the 11 year olds. I also sent the shirt back to the man who left it on my living room floor on Saturday night and found out who had stolen the stork out of the car park (refer to earlier post 'Carnage' for this to make sense)!

Lunchtime - what a let down. Feck all food in the flat. I'm living like a hobo. No food other than a few mouldy Jacobs creams and a jar of crunchy peanut butter. I stand, Bridget Jones style, watching all the couples go by the window and eat the PB straight out of the jar, I'm also drinking the orange juice straight from the carton and the beans straight from the tin. I really think I'm turning ferrel. You know what though? I quite like it. I am my own boss, I answer to no-one and I can do what the hell I like. Did I mention I used to be married...? That's a whole other blog...

Well, I'm off to scream down the phone at Candace cos she is supposed to be bringing me food - I can't possibly have another Pot Noodle today, can I?

Laters...