My current profile picture is a panel from the Edward Gorey book (more on Gorey-- one of my favorites ever-- at a later date) "The Hapless Child." It depicts the titular character in one of the more hapless moments of her hapless life and is captioned, "She soon lost consciousness and sank to the pavement." This is precisely the predicament I would find myself in at this moment, were I not chained to my work desk in every manner except physically. Among myriad pursuits, the one that actually puts gluten-free bread on the table is my peculiarly specialized job of doing background research for film and TV. One of the shows I've rather recently begun working on attempts to slay me on a daily basis and is more or less successful in, again, every manner except physically. This show may eventually succeed in stealing life from my body, but as it is, I simply slave 8-10 hours a day, except for the days when I stay at this computer completing script reports until 1 a.m., at which point I wander out into the darkened alleyway behind this building and throw myself around, screaming to the heavens, "I'M NEELY O'HARA!" until the authorities are alerted and a psychological evaluation is administered.
I'd write more, but a flaming coal is being pressed to my fingers by a major television studio and I'm being commanded to rush through a list of alternate names for an insignificant character who is seen onscreen not once and only mentioned in dialogue a single time.
Hooray for Hollywood!
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