I was given website hosting this week, (still under construction, I’m tackling the learning curve best I can, but it’s a damned wall. Suggestions and coding help welcome).
Last night I threw panties onto a stage where Mark played Frank Zappa with his teeth, rock-star style.
Wednesday, the Celluloid Social Club showed Kryshan’s Zombiewalk film, had me come up and talk about it, gave me a chance to promote like an expensive whore, and my friends won the Bloodshots 48 Hour Horror Film Competition with a Italiana Nunsploitation flick that you can watch here. See: Steampower Films.
Today my work has decided to pay me, (with a slight raise), to attend the Rolling Stones concert next Friday and look pretty.
None of which, by the way, makes up for the fact that they pulled my fireworks show out of the Parade of Lost Souls.
Oh, and for all these lily innocent doe-eyed “what’s this parade thing?” types, the Parade of Lost Souls is possibly the only completely marvelous event that Vancouver actually has. Be there unrestrained and fanciful or I will always cherish the initial misconception I had about you and nothing more.