Wow. It turns out that when you write a few thousand words a day for over a month, the last thing you want to do when you get home is keep on writing.
No worries, (because I'm positive that you -- yes you, and not the other you -- were worried) I have notes. Lots and lots of notes, and the beginnings of some cool stuff, which will most likely have to wait until next week, because tomorrow is Nolan's birthday party (featuring bounce house) and Saturday is his actual birthday. Sunday is the first of what will certainly be many engagement parties for my sister, and I don't think I'll be doing a whole lot of writing for my blog until all these exciting events have passed.
However, I will point you to two things that I think you (the other you this time, not you you) will enjoy in the mean time.
Thing the first is Otis' version of our last night together in Vegas.
The girl had piercings where momma wouldn't have liked them. She sucked on vodka and Red Bulls and stacked ceramic poker chips in front of her. She had seven blue Palms chips and an absent button on the table's racetrack. And she looked like she wanted to ride the spikey-haired kid beside her until the sun rose over the Nevada desert.
"I don't know about you," Wil said to the kid, "but if she were looking at me the way she's looking at you, I wouldn't be playing poker right now."
Thing the second is about my friend BURNS! who, it turns out, is also friends with John Scalzi. Though I am only a bit player in the story, I did provide a picture and a quote:
When Mykal turned 26, he had a "Double Bar Mitzvah" party in which he celebrated his manhood -- again! -- by reading not from the Torah, but from the script of Pulp Fiction; specifically the scene where Christopher Walken discusses hiding the wristwatch for three years in a Vietnam POW camp. It was, indeed, one of the funniest things I ever had the pleasure of experiencing. This is a funny guy.
(And also a good guy, and for proof of that, here's Wil, who says of Mykal: "If I invite him to a barbecue or offer to take him to a Dodger game, he may tell me that he can't make it for one reason or another. But if I call him and ask him to help me move some junk in my garage, or pick up my kids from school because I'm stuck at a meeting or anything else like that, he'll immediately drop everything to help out, and will never expect or accept anything in return for his help. His loyalty and generosity is
truly staggering, and I'm lucky to have him as a friend." Indeed you are, Wil Wheaton. As I am I. As would you all be, were you his friend.)
Here's hoping you (all of you) have a great rest of the day, and weekend, too.
