In the future, production studios will cash in on the novelty of casting other actors (of the time) in the popular films of yesteryear.

Virtual versions of the actors, of course.

Picture Tom Selleck in Indiana Jones, Jaime Foxx in Jerry Maguire...

Hell, they could do it now with the real deal to make a quick $ =P

...and that's all I have to say about that.

I have always thought cats were evil creatures, soulless little furballs with their own agenda, and now I'm sure of it.

A few weeks ago I had one of the scariest encounters of my life - to say it was out of movie is an understatement; it was absolutely bizarre.

I was over at Christel's, we were talking for a while and were about to call it a night. She was lying on the floor and I gave her my hand to help her up, when suddenly her cat Ginger switches into attack mode and pounces on her leg - immediately clawing and ripping away. Chris is in shock, screams at the cat, and I do a double-take to make sure this is really happening. Chris runs for the hallway, at which point the Ginger jumps onto her hip, then directly onto her shoulder and head. I immediately tried to grab the cat, but as I soon learnt, it's not that easy to get a hold of a nimble animal twisting, turning, and clawing, in a violent rage - and it’s also very painful. (Fast Forward: I ended up with two deep punctures on my upper arm and claw marks from the wrist UP, I even found slashes in my armpit.)

Well, after I tried to get the cat off her head and failed, Chris ran into her room and balled up in a fetal position on the bed, all the while the cat is still on top of her, growling like a demon and sinking her claws and teeth into her. I rush in after her and am finally able to get my hand on the cat long enough the throw it onto the floor. I noticed the blood on the bed at this point but had to dismiss it for the moment.

I grabbed her blanket and barricaded her with it - because the cat was ready to leap back up at any moment. It was like fighting a bloody bull with a red cape. The blanket thing worked, Ginger seemed a little weary of leaping back onto the bed with me holding the blanket up, she couldn't see Christel anymore, which was a good thing, and it appeared she was a little unsure of me in general (which gave me some leverage).

So here I am, on a bed with a recently mauled girl bawling her eyes out, holding up a blanket to keep an insane cat at bay. You can't make this stuff up. The wounds on my arm were beginning to sting, and as I was wearing a long-sleeved shirt I didn't know how bad any of it was. At this point, I'm locking eyes with the cat to hold its attention, but I quickly realize I have to divert its attention from the bed so Christel can get the fuck out of the room. I start moving back on the bed to try and seem less threatening, but the cat won’t have it and stretches its neck up to keep me in sight. It finally takes its eyes off me for an instant while sniffing towards to back of the room - at this point I tell Christel to run for the door and close it behind her. "Go, NOW!" She doesn't miss a beat, she slams the door behind her and now the cat is rattled. It starts hissing again, ears cocked back and ready to pounce. I see an open closet on the other side of the room and I know I have to contain this thing - as trying to get my hands on it is near impossible, and almost certainly doomed to leave me shredded to ribbons.

I start throwing pillows to make it back into the closet, the first one worked to back it up, but the second make it zip under the bed. So great, now I don't know where this cat is - it can up on me from anywhere. I start hitting the bed trying to discern its location, and when I hear it I go to the other end and start throwing stuff at it to scare it out again. It finally comes out, but all I have is the blanket now, so I start whipping the ground around it to keep it backing up towards the closet and, it finally works, as soon as it steps within the confines of the closet I leap off the bed and slam the door shut.

Now comes the time for damage assessment. There is blood on the pillow, and the bed, on my pants, on the couch and carpet outside, and I'm pretty sure I saw a splatter or two on the wall. I walk into the bathroom and Christel is already pretty cleaned up, and way calmer than she has any right to be. I can see the full extent of the wounds now. She had two DEEP gashes on her thigh, two more deep punctures on her hip (seemed like teeth), and slashes running from her calf all the way up to her face, yes, her face. She had two slashes on her forehead and one on her fucking EYELID.

I’ll give the aftermath story later, but people, stay the fuck away from cats. A tetanus shot and a boatload of antibiotics later, take it from me, it’s no fun wondering if you have rabies.

I just deleted a great voicemail from Rossi, damnit, damnit damnit damnit. I thought it sounded familiar...

You know, Pulp Fiction said it best, "They talk a lot don't they."

Apparently there is always some phantom clique that has formed a group consensus on your actions, your choices, your life.

I've heard the phrase "...and everybody thinks so..." way too fucking often in the past few months. Who are these people? Come on everybody, come out come out wherever you are. You fucks. You have a little opinion? Suuuure, you're entitled to it, just make sure it doesn't seep out beyond the confines of your little pack of jackals because then, guess what, you'll be publicly known as a fucking prick. And I can hold a grudge like a motherfucker.

I don't think it will ever get old hearing Stacy on the air. Thanks for the song love. It brightened my day, again ;)

It must be nice.

I wish my boss took me out to Hooters for beer... wait, I am my boss... damn. I don't treat me nice at all. =(

Okay, as I type this, I feel as though an army of little Justins are screaming and pounding against the insides of my flesh, trying to claw their way out, their voices scream out in pure agony, engulfing, deafening yet still faint and under the surface, it’s like thunder in the distance, drawing closer. It's like my body wants me to grab my head screaming and run out of the room.

This has happened to me before.

With a certain amount of consistency actually, when I was younger and about to fall asleep. Suddenly, it would feel as though the pillow I was laying my head on turned to crepe paper, each move creating noises and feelings which triggered a queer feeling up and down my spine, soon the blanket would take on the same texture and the feel of my skin against it made me want to leap out of the bed, it was like nails across a chalk board.

Every time it happened, I would replay the same thing in my head; I would imagine I was a small ship afloat a calm moonlit sea, then the waves would crash and become tortured distorted versions of their former self - and as if seeing this on film - the celluloid would become scratched and crumpled, getting so bad you could barely distinguish the original scene. Then it all got... better. Slowly, and the feeling then became almost beautiful, calming, I would run my finger across the pillow and it was as if I was now in control of the film, creating a wake in my finger's path - a controlled version of the chaos that consumed me before.

It's the same feeling right now, except the trigger now eludes me, no pillow cases or blankets in sight, no explanation, only the worse I've ever felt this before.

Recent work.

Feedback welcome. I know there are probably a score of little bugs and inconsistencies, but I've come to realize that under these deadlines, if the client doesn't care - neither do I. We gotta sleep sometime =)