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Several of you have complained (aka Chlydia) that you cannot post comments on this site.  This perturbs me, in a time when everything perturbs me.  I'm going to try to work this out - meanwhile, if you couldn't before and now can post a comment, please let me know.  Or something.  I won't be able to fix any problems, but I'll bite my nails and cry in the corner because here I've been thinking no one loves me enough to comment, when perhaps it's the site.  Bah!!!

The pilot is (relatively) finished.  I was going to try to get away with not really looking at it anymore and sending it off to the powers that be, but Cliffhanger texted me as soon as she got off the plane last night demanding (not asking if it was done, mind you) that I email her the script immediately.  I pity people who don't have soul-crushing drill sergeant friends to keep them in line. 

I also pity Jodie Sweetin, whose meth addiction got a poor excuse for screen time in the E! True Hollywood Story - Full House I watched this morning.  All I'm saying is it should have taken top billing over the Olsen twins' successful clothing line/exercise video/pre-porn empire.  Meth is much more interesting than success. 

Which brings me to Heath Ledger.  I'm sorry he's dead.  He was hot, he was talented, and he named his daughter Matilda.  And I like that name because of the Roald Dahl book.  Anything else I say won't be profound or snarky, so I'll shut up now.