7 February 2002 - 4:39 p.m.

According to Prof. McAdvisor, my latest fiction assignment would have pleased Harry James. I'm telling everyone. Please bear with me.

You know what's wacky? My landlord looks like Richard Dreyffus. And since I feel the need to encrypt this diary a little bit more, I think I'll start calling him Richard Dreyfuss instead of his real first name. Or maybe I should just download a tiny little picture of Richard Dreyfuss' head and change my landlord's name to a symbol. Like Prince. That might be cool. Except that when I talked about him, I'd have to say, "The Landlord Formerly Known as Marvin." Which is not sufficiently cryptic. So I guess he's Richard Dreyfuss from now on. Ha.

Richard Dreyfuss is a pretty normal guy by my standards - he a professor, so he might seem a little nerdy to everyone else. Also, he looks like Richard Dreyfuss, which, you know, is not exactly common. But lately, weird stuff has been going on.

Last Tuesday, Gus and I were leaving my apartment after dinner on our way to Harvey rehearsal, and I swore I saw RD walking around in his kitchen, wearing a dark button-down shirt. Cool. But then, 5 or 10 minutes later, as we waited to get into our rehearsal room, I hear this voice that is somewhat like RD's behind me. But I don't turn around, because Richard Dreyfuss was in the kitchen. Duh. Then Gus motioned for me to turn around. And would you beleive it! There was Richard Dreyfuss! In a white shirt, tie, winter coat, and carrying a briefcase.

So I siad hi and proceeded to deny that that was really Richard Dreyfuss, because I had just seen Richard Dreyfuss. Ad everyone thought I was crazy.

But when I was not crazy is when I was babysitting for Ben, SORD (son of Richard Dreyfuss), last night, and Richard Dreyfuss came in wearing this massive fur hat that made him look Russian, or I guess French Canadian, because it had flaps. SORD, who was in rare form after writing performance poetry all during dinner ("The wind blows through the trees quickly. Like the opposite of a turtle" and "Napkins are elusive and magical creatures") started making fun of his dad for looking so much liek a hunter. So Richard Dreyfuss decided to rebut with a funny story about how he had left his massive hairy hat in the main office of his department once overnight, and the next day some guy came in and saw a furry lump through the glass doors.

"My, Richard Dreyfuss," I said. "That must have been unsettling."

"It certainly was! " he agreed. "I'm just lucky I didn't come in to find it pounded to pieces by a baseball bat."

But academics don't typically carry baseball bats to work. Coincidence? I think not.

I don't know about anyone else, but I think this Richard Dreyfuss situation is getting way out of hand.

What I'm wearing:

What I'm reading:

What I'm doing after this: