- Bomb Texas for freedom -

So I’m packing up happily thinking about all the Red Sox fans I’m going to taunt, about my british friend who I’m going to point out where his people were slaughtered, and all the assholes I’m going to ask “Is it that hard to say car, or are you just retahded?”

Then I get the email,

I have processed your application and wanted to invite you in for a
tour.  I know this is last minute but I was wondering if you were
available tomorrow, Wednesday, at 4:00 p.m.?   Please let me know
either way.

Oh crap it’s The Writers Room! I wasn’t expecting a reply back for months! Clint told me that they already contacted him, but still I didn’t think. Fuck! I’ve been looking to get away for months now. So I was about to ask to reschedule, I mean by 4 pm I was hoping to be halfway across conn.

Then I began thinking, what if this is a test? What if they want to see my dedication by asking me to come at almost the last minute? What if someone else grabs my spot, and there will be no room.

Then I was thinking “well I can always write at the office and home, right?”

Put it this way I’m, still at work, I haven’t even opened up my laptop because I was so distracted by someones pet project. At home, I have to listen to fights in spainish, loud obnoxious salsa (or whatever it is), gun shots, and sirens until 2 am. Then it still goes on, but by then I’m too wiped to even notice.

Then on the weekend the noise starts sometime on friday night, and goes on until 4am monday morning.

I looked at my train ticket, and then I looked at my drafts. I sigh, and start putting everything back in it’s drawers.

Fenway will still be there thursday.