Dear baaaaabyanimals: Thank you for helping me get to sleep the other night after all that creepy shit I read.
Dear friends list: Sorry about the creepy shit.
Dear Mom: I'm sure it's really sweet that you want to take my first advance check and Xerox it and frame it and stuff. However, I would rather deposit it and start using it, thnx.
Dear Self: I HAVE MONEY WOOT.
P.S. to Self: It's been three days. Stop reading the creepy shit. Seriously, you're starting to look ruggid from lack of sleep.
Meanwhile:
Vladimir has seen Finding Neverland at the Venice fest and liked it--I told him he would because, sadly enough, I haven't been updating the Digest but I finally have an inside Hollywood source and The Source said it was good. And then he got Quarantino's autograph:
[Vladimir]: Mister Tarantino, would you please autograph my Catalogue?(I'll have to get him to tell the story of the time he got Harvey Weinstein's autograph after Jabba the Harv initially blew him off in a similar fashion. Vladimir seems to be very good at wheedling celebrities, a skill that cannot be too highly valued.)
QT: I'd rather not.
[Vladimir]: Well, just this once.
QT (signs Catalogue): Is that a promise?
[Vladimir]: Um, no.
So I highly recommend that you read and/or friend his journal (