A THING YOU DO NOT NEED TO TRY BECAUSE I ALREADY TRIED IT AND CAN TELL YOU FOR POSITIVE THAT IT IS NOT A GOOD IDEA

Shampoo is sometimes hard to open.

It could take any combination of brute strength and fingernails and bribery and prayers to Allah to pry the top off.

One thing that you should not attempt to do, though, is this:

Do NOT, under any circumstances, attempt to open it with your teeth.

No, no matter how dirty your hair is and how late you are for your date with the cute boy in your Calculus class, you should not do this.

For, you see, the precise result of attempting to open a shampoo bottle with your teeth is this:

It opens.

Wait, you say. Isn't this what we wanted to happen? Wasn't this our GOAL?

Well, my friend, this is not the happy-shiny event that it seems to be. For, you see, with the joyful opening of the shampoo bottle comes also--the shampoo.

Copious amounts, and at waterfall speed and right down into your mouth, I might add.

And I will tell you this. Of all the dozens of things that go through your mind when you have just not-on-purposely swallowed quite a lot of shampoo, not one of them is, "Thank goodness I got that open. For now I can wash my hair."

A thing that might come to your mind is, "I need a personal injury lawyer or possibly rhinoplasty surgery."

Though what will surely come to your mind is, "Uck and also I hate my life."

Oh, one more thing. I tried to make a lovely concoction the other night involving chocolate ice-cream and champagne.

Don't ever do that either.

A few things:

1) A sign that I am getting cynical:

I had a show Saturday night. Before the show, the owner informed us that a man wanted to propose to his girlfriend during the show.

What I didn't think was:

How sweet. He's going to propose and they shall stay together forever and I shall be here to witness this momentous occasion.

What I did think was:

She better say yes or it's going to ruin the whole show.

2) The strangest thing about filming in a yurt:

There is a bathtub right in the middle of the room. Also a toilet. Mud plus sticks does not equal privacy.

3) A thing I thought last night:

If I opened an all-night donut shop, I would call it, "Night Crullers."

That's all the things.

A thing I think you should know:

I'm filming in a yurt tomorrow.

I, for one, do not know what a yurt is, but if it's the next step in my road to stardom, then I shall take it.

Rest assured that I shall tell you all about it when I get home.

Yesterday, a friend of mine saw a man with a wheelchair walking (so to speak) a three-legged dog.

I've decided that your reaction to this situation is a splendid test to determine precisely what kind of personality you have.

If you think: It's so sweet that they found each other. Fate brought them together. They each have been taught, by their personal tragedies, about the importance of inner-beauty.

You're a glass half-full kind of person.

If you think: The evil man probably chopped off his dog's leg because he's bitter about being in a wheelchair and didn't want to be the only crippled one in the house.

You're a glass half-empty kind of person.

If you think: I bet the man isn't really crippled at all and he's just been riding in a wheelchair all these years so the poor dog won't feel bad about only having three legs. You know, kind of like when a kid in the third grade gets cancer so a bunch of kids also shave their heads to show camaraderie? Like that. Or maybe the guy really IS in a wheelchair, but the dog is just faking the loss of a limb so his owner won't feel alone. Either way.

You're me.

(I think it's entirely possible that this blog doesn't make any sense. I'm a little sleepy and my head hurts. If I had a sympathetic dog, I assume that right now he'd be writing something that doesn't make any sense to make me feel less alone.)

Ode to the Silver Market:

To market, to market, to buy a fat hen.
Home again, home again, to the Neil Crespi Analyst Company.
Also JDM Motors and Parts.

I swear that used to rhyme when I was a kid. In any case, this poem was brought to you by your friendly neighborhood blogstitute. Ta.

JILL'S FIRST DAY OF FILMING A FILM

I got a part in a movie.

I guess that it would be fair to say that I'm a Movie Star now.

Well, as long as Movie Star means Someone Who Is In A Film That I Will Most Certainly Never See And I Will Just Have To Take Her Word For It That She's In It At All Because, Let's Be Honest, It Will Probably Never Open In Theaters.

Or perhaps, to you, Movie Star means Person Who Gets To Wear The Ugliest Pink Sweater Ever Worn On Camera In The History Of Film Because She's (And-I-Quote) "Not Supposed To Look Pretty."

By either definition, I am assuredly a movie star.

So I thought you would like to know some of the splendidly glamorous things about being a movie star:

1) Free Triscuits. Seriously. Thousands of them. If you wanted to build a Triscuit-House (which would be an excellent way to work on your other skills so that maybe, just maybe, you could be an engineer instead of an ugly-pink-sweater-wearing-Movie-Star), I bet you could.

2) Sometimes the director yells, "Damnit! She's shiny!" And then , lickety-split, a stunning make-up person will arrive and powder your nose to your heart's content. It's like having a nose-powdering butler. Plus or minus the cute British accent.

3) They do actually yell things like "Action" and "Cut" on the set. But, in all honesty, they get a little pissy if you clap your hands and giggle every time they yell them. Whatever.

4) If you don't yell at anyone or cry or stomp your feet and demand organic Triscuits and mostly know your lines, people will quietly confide to you that you're "really professional....for an actor." I'm fairly sure that's supposed to be a compliment.

That's all.

If you need my autograph or anything, I'll understand.

If I could have anything in the world for Groundhog day, I would choose valentines day flowers, diamond earrings, Search Engine Optimization, and bextra lawsuits. And possibly a New York breast augmentation and a Los Angeles face lift. You may think it's weird but, hey, I don't judge you when you look at porn on the internet all day. So leave me alone.

Signed,

Your Friendly Neighborhood Blogstitute

U.S. postage stamps cost two cents more today than they did yesterday.

That means that if I simply mailed six-million letters yesterday instead of today, I would have saved ONE-HUNDRED AND TWENTY THOUSAND DOLLARS.

I could have bought a house with its very own chocolate fountain and several exotic cars.

Sigh.....

If only I'd thought of it yesterday.

Sigh....

I've been sick for over a week now.

I feel fairly certain that I have bird flu.

It's not the fever and chills that make it so frustrating though.

It's the feathers.