–I admit, I have outsourced the True Blood watching to the Butcher (He says, “It’s nice to see the Smoke Monster from Lost getting work.”) and so I was unprepared for just what a hot mess it is these days. But what the fuck kind of Yoda shit is that? Literally the only interesting thing I saw was some bad ass grandma werewolf and a wedding video. What happened? Dear lord, what happened?
–“I demand, by the way, a five-year moratorium on all song references to beer. There are other ways to go: ‘This vodka will rockya.’ ‘A guy likes his rye.’ Anything. Try water; the Sons of the Pioneers did.” I loved this whole thing. I will now make my millions writing a love song using Diet Dr Pepper as the central metaphor. I will rhyme it with “Oh, sure” and “yep, sir.” Though, with my luck, it will only make the Americana charts. Though, if it made the Americana charts because the Band of Joy performed it? That’d be okay, I guess.
–Hee hee hee.
–Today is kind of a weird day at work. I mean, obviously, I’m not there yet, but it will be. I love my job and these kinds of things rarely happen–where something we produce directly relates to the biggest news story of the moment and so we need to market our product based on that tragedy. But it’s still weird. It makes you think that there is something fundamentally fucked up about marketing, about turning everything into a way to sell something.
–But it will be nice to get back to work. Get back into the routine a little.