Believe it or not, the dogs are actually even more freaked out and skittish about this move to Toronto than I am. As a result, in an effort to reassure them and ease the transition, I’ve taken to sleeping with the pack on the apartment’s pull-out bed. It’s a lot less roomy than my king-size bed back in Vancouver and certainly a lot less comfortable. For the first two mornings, I woke up with sore knees. Sore knees?! WTF?! Then, this morning, when I woke up, my left hand was so stiff I could barely make a fist. [insert crude Carl Binder crack here].
Today, we finally broke my second episode in the writers’ room. While the other stories averaged about two and a half days to break, mine took only half a day. On the upside, we wrapped it up in record time. On the downside, unlike all of the other stories, there’s not much in the way of details concerning the action sequences. I suppose it’ll all become clear to me this weekend after some careful thought and several drinks.
Anyway, consider the following diagram your first spoiler of the new series…
Today was Carl’s last day and what better way to commemorate the solemn event than with burgers and skillet cookies with ice cream? And so, tonight, we all headed out (in Akemi and my case, back) to m: brgr.
- Alex and his better half, Sarah
- My kobe beef burger with caramelized onions porcini mushrooms, black truffle carpaccio, and fig jam.
- Carl asks “What’s with the milkshake in the woman’s belly?”
- Training my hipstamatic on Alex.
- In honor of his belated birthday, Alex was presented with a skillet cookie and sparkler – that fizzled out before the dish even hit the table. A bad omen, noted Paul.
- This thingie came with the skillet cookie. Hmmmmm.
In addition to fleshing out the various beats of my episode this weekend, I’ll also need to run a couple of errands and pick up a few things. It’s amazing how you never know how much you really need something until you don’t have it. Like last night, for instance, after we finished roasting our dinner. “The seabass is done!”I announced, throwing open the oven door. “Where are the oven mitts?” Where? Well certainly not in this apartment.
Speaking of the apartment – Hey, anyone know how to remove scratches (aka dog claw marks) from a wooden door? There must be a way, right? If humanity found a way to make Chuck Cunningham, the Andorians, and Re’Tu Charlie disappear without a trace, surely we can find a way to do the same with door scratches, no?
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