"...After a lifetime being surrounded by girls, the Old Man finally has a shooting buddy..."
Waiting, May 23 2006
Waiting.
For a baby to be born, for a spec to get read, for a show to get picked up, for... something.
I've done a few
Best Week Evers on VH1. That means tons of writing- for me. I know a few comics who go in and wing it, and I want to scratch their eyes out. I spend hours on the topics, do research and write the best possible jokes and all that boring stuff. I'm not a wing-er, damnit.
Still pregnant, had the amnio yesterday so of course that could all change if we get bad news. Part of me is hoping for major deformities so I'll be able to give it the boot without feeling guilty. Can't I get a dog instead? But just my luck, the fetus was jumping all around, sucking its thumb and stretching. The sonographer said the baby is going to be big. And it is a boy.
I told my Dad about the penis sighting and he immediately picked out an infant-friendly shotgun for his grandson. A hunting trip has been planned. After a lifetime being surrounded by girls, the Old Man finally has a shooting buddy. Look out, neighbors.
Almost nobody likes our boy name, but we love it. It would be an awesome athlete's name, and we need this pushy brat to bring in a full ride to a Division 1 or 2 college.
No pressure, 17 week old fetus! You just keep growing eyes and lungs and all that shit, and let mother ruin your life from the get go. Here, have more ice cream.
I had a meeting with a production company which had a really funny pilot picked up by one of the major networks. Even though the meeting went well and they like my spec, I'm still inexperienced as far as scripted half hours go, and it's unlikely to go any further. I'm in that position until someone takes a chance on me.
And I'm writing jokes for a comedy website that's set to debut in June.
Blah blah blah.
