Woops.

I quit. I quit my soul-sucking, shit-paying, gray hair spawning, go get’em tiger PA job. Process of elimination. On my swollen, evergreen list of interests, #127 : Television Production, has a big fat Marks-A-Lot “X” barreling through its promising future. I was about to lose my already slippery mind. So. That’s that.

I’m a writer. Duh. Creative development and writing are where my talents should find their home in the entertainment industry. Not, definitely not in Production.

In other news, I found a pair of panties wrapped up in an HEB bag under the passenger seat in my car the other day. How curious, I thought. They certainly weren’t mine. But, they were certainly someone’s. So, I furthered my sleuthing, carefully… White with Red fruit…strawberries? Cherries? Hmm… I shook my brain…in the manner one would shake a Magic 8 Ball, in hopes that the event leading up to the abandoned undies would float to the forefront on my mind. Rattle. Nothing. I stuck my paw in the goodie-bag and pulled out a receipt:

Sponge Bob Kite x 1
Ballatore Champagne x 1
Balloon Kit with Pump x 1
Fun Kit x 2
Hawaii Style Hula Hoop x 1
King Size Caramello Bar x 1
Bag of Ice x 1

Ha! Ha!! Ms. Clayton. Panty puzzle solved. Dawn’s Birthday Brunch. Sounds fun, eh? I'll leave the rest of the story to your vivid, tasteless imaginations. Humph. I have alerted her to the whereabouts of her unmentionables. They are, however, still in my possession. I am performing for 200 freshman at UT on Friday. I will be hosting a Sixteen Candles-esqe Show N Tell in the Jester Boys Bathroom at 11 a.m. One Dollar American, people. One Dollar.