It all started out innocently enough. I was living in a sort of tree house with Will Smith (arms to die for) and I had made him clothes from hemp; we were one step up from Tarzan and Jane. As usual, right before the steamy love scene, some people started shooting at us, and the tree house didn’t really provide enough cover, so we hopped in our Osprey (a helicopter that can do all sorts of cool stuff, probably has to do with the fact that there’s an assembly plant in my town and Mom’s husband is project manager for the civilian model) and were chased by helicopters with the people still shooting at us. We escaped them (huzzah!) and landed in a dormant volcano, which happened to have elementary school class tours going on. Will left me there, (damn) and I somehow made it to The Outback Steakhouse, an Australian-themed, American owned restaurant complete with pictures of Ned Kelly, ostriches, emus, koalas and alligators on the walls. (Er, crocodiles. Right? Anyway, I worked there when I was in college). I didn’t have my uniform, so Steve Padgett, one of the managers I had way back then, gives me a big hug & kiss (he’s no Will Smith) and says that it’s okay that I’m wearing my bathrobe, or I can go upstairs and get something to wear. I go upstairs and it’s the costume shop of a theatre, where Anne Lankford was trying on clothes that were too small for her. She suggested some 40’s style cocktail dresses, and I put one on, and Jeff,
We watched movies that we already own this weekend. The Curse of the Jade Scorpion and The Count of Monte Cristo, both of which are very, very good.