Pamela Ribon is an author, screenwriter, actor, and Wonder Killer. This is her diary. Sort of.

 

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Daniel J. Blau writes musicals, recaps for TWoP, and travels back and forth between New York and LA because he's just that cosmopolitan.

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©1998-2005, Pamela Ribon

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Sunday, December 21, 2003

What do we eat for our fake Christmas dinner? Chinese food. 

...in the spirit of A Christmas Story, I guess.

I had a dream last night that Johnny Depp was an actor at this strange dinner theatre I attended, and everyone knew it was Johnny Depp, and everybody knew he was actually my special guest like that time Lena Horne performed for Cliff Huxtable's birthday, and it was all somehow set up by stee. He pretended to be jealous when Johnny did a monologue for me at my table. Johnny Depp had green eyes, and I thought to myself, "I really don't know anything about this man at all." And then I couldn't stop giggling like a total tool. Even in front of dream JD, I'm a moron.

Saw Weldon and Martinique's baby today. He couldn't be cuter. And then my mom held the baby for a while. I'll be dealing with the ramifications of that semi-grandmaternal encounter for the next year, I promise you. Anyway, this just in: babies are pretty darn cute. Particularly when they yawn.

My friends live so far away, all over the country. When stee and I went to mail off all of the Christmas presents this week, the zip codes bounced around this continent from Toronto to New York City to Atlanta to Austin to Monroe to San Francisco to San Antonio. I suppose it's only natural, after thirteen schools in eighteen years that I'd have a group of friends who all live scattered across the country (and Canada). Having lunch with Weldon and Nique today made me miss all of them very much.

 

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