27 September 2002 - 12:53 p.m.

Clearly, I am to be congratulated.

I think I managed to write the dumbest diary entry in the world last night.

Kee-fuckin-rist.

But, whatever. I won't delete it. If there is anything I lack, it's humility. And I should never forget the dumb things I do when I am even the teeniest bit tipsy. So neither should anyone else with Internet access.

Gus is, in fact, interviewing with a government agency that almost rhymes with Vasser. This is exciting for me. I'll finally get to start dressing like an astronaut's wife.

Because I never do that.

How is it I don't want to sit behind a computer today, but am typing this entry with gusto? Why can't I be famous already, and just publish my diary and make money doing that? If there's one thing I've learned from my workshop professor, who cancelled class to work on a tiny little film project with a direct you might have heard of (do the initials F.F.C. mean anything to you?), it's that, when you're famous, you don't have to go to workshop any more.

Not that workshop is really the bane of my existence. It's actual my fear of failure. How else do you describe what is about to happen to me - I'll logoff AOL, open up MSWord, work on one of three stories, decide to give up after a page or two, and start another one. That's the way it is.

Oh, and it's official. Two online quizzes agree that I am Ginger, after a whole lifetime of trying to be Mary Ann. On a slightly more positive note...

Which Kids In The Hall recurring character are YOU?

What I'm wearing:

What I'm reading:

What I'm doing after this: