Don't Tell Me What to Do

First off, you don't get to tell me what to do. You, who betrayed and abandoned me, are the last person that should presume to do such a thing. But because I am a charitable and magnanimous man, I will ignore this affront and write something anyway. Because I want to, though, not because you told me to.

I am writing this from my newly-constructed business nook, which consists of a bookcase and a computer desk situated in the front of our apartment, where a bank of windows overlooks historic Josephinum Academy. It is pretty sweet, and I am very much enjoying it. I'm actually enjoying our apartment as a whole. The only downside is that my room is pretty small and I have to hunch to get into my closet, but that's the price I paid in order to lock down this sweet pad.

Ted, Brandon and Vince are all here now (I started writing this about an hour ago) and we have started writing a brand new movie script (following up the award-winning That's the Ticket!) entitled Year of the Witches (not to be confused with Nic Cage's Season of the Witch, although we're going to try and get Nic Cage involved). General premise is, once again, based on facts: Ted and I get cursed by the witches from Hocus Pocus at midnight on New Year's Eve, 2011. Then, we go through the entire year, constantly bumbling through misadventures due to the curse. And then we end it one year later? I'm not sure, we've haven't gotten past the basic premise.

We have cable and internet in our place now, and it's about a million times better than our old apartment, which is pretty awesome. I would keep writing, but with all of these boys over here now, I've got to let you go. We'll talk about Halloween in another post, if you're lucky.