Hot steamy Lutheran sex.

I have nothing to go along with that, as those words are sufficient fun and humorous good times in and of themselves.

Heya, my little Fadeinites. Need I mention that I�m, like, so totally fucked up right now on coffee and chocolate? Perhaps I do, as getting myself this high these days is pretty much the only way I can force myself to squeeze out some entry love.

Or maybe I just thought you all needed to stare at my ass for a week.

Either way, you�re the winners.

This week is supposedly a busy one for me, as we originally had a hiatus scheduled for my story team on my little ol� reality show. Then the big bosses flipped out and realized they�d need someone around to find footage of things like (and I kid you not when I say this) �Keith turning his head as if he�s overhearing something.�

Oh, the glamour. Most of my work is significantly better than that, though, I swear.

So, I�m the only one from my team here, because I�m the only loser that didn�t make plans to get the hell out of Los Angeles. That�s fine with me, as I needs the cash. Also, it looks like I�m getting a day or two of blessed slack until notes come back from my episode, and only after that will my torture begin.

On the plus side, some of that torture will come in the form of directives from Inbal, the hot bitch Israeli editor. I greatly look forward to tuning out everything she says as I stare at her improbably large and sexy lips. This episode will surely suck.

So, how�s by you? No, really. What�s up? I�m doing good. A few parties this weekend, which were just OK. Now that my friends and I are reaching our late twenties, babies and baby strollers are starting to show up at parties. The parties in Los Angeles are bad enough, in that, inevitably, the talk turns to the Industry, and who�s doing what and where and for how much and isn�t TiVo just the greatest thing? until you wish for a case of sudden hysterical deafness. But now that we�re a bunch of old people, it seems that long gone are the days of bi-sexual public couch orgies, stealing and breaking, and intense random barfing that marked the parties I attended in my early twenties.

On the plus side, the food is better now. Would I trade in that tray of spanokopita to go back to the old days? Tough call.

In other news, my roommate went to Indianapolis on Tuesday for work and was theoretically supposed to come back last night, but he hasn�t. I�ll be sad if he�s dead, but at least I�ll have the place to myself for a few more days.

Life is all about compromises, my friends.

Addition to my brand new enemies list: Zach Braff. I haven�t seen Garden State yet, but I was working on a screenplay in which someone experiencing a touch of success in Los Angeles goes back east for a funeral and has romantic interludes with a cute brunette. Swear to God. I mean, I was only ten pages into it as of last summer, and that�s as far as I got, but still. Braff: That�s rude, man.

My �out-date� here (super fancy term for �last day�) is September 10th, unless they extend me to the 17th, which they may. After that, it�s cross country hijinks with my co-worker Lyle as he moves to Chicago and I tag along for a visit.

To my endless disappointment, the Cloud Gate will be closed for polishing while I�m home. At least this means I�ll get to see it in December, and it�ll probably look better with snow swirling all around it. Fingers and giant chrome kidneys crossed.

Wow, check this out. That's just so cool.