I'm not one of those jerks who goes around making horrible blanket statements like, "people are morons" because, come on. That's rude. After all, I've committed my fair share of advanced moronics. Who am I to judge?

But when a song called "My Love is, like, Whoa" is considered Top 40 material, I can see why people come up with those statements.
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Tomorrow I'm turning in the first draft of a musical on which I've been furiously typing lately. It's called The Nazarene and it'll be produced this December in Huntington Beach. I should be working on it now, in fact, but I'm taking a break to blog and to enjoy a slice of spinach pizza.

Anyhow, for those who are curious: it's a Christmassy thing. Mostly, a love story between Joseph and Mary (Jesus' step-dad and mom). Comedy, drama, thrills, spills, and biblical chills. The concept/music was developed by a guy named Moses Toth, one of the more talented composers I've met. So far it's been a little fun and a lot stressful, but these things are usually worth it in the end.

It's Moses' show, though, and he has enough faith in my abilities to have gone ahead with casting. From what I hear, eight parts are already filled and the guy hasn't even seen a script from me yet. Now that's faith.
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Oh, be a dove and check out my sister's wedding photos. Personally, I think they're gorgeous. (Why couldn't this guy have done our wedding? Hmph.) Try not to pay any attention to the overweight, greasy guy in the middle of the wedding party, though. We're not exactly sure how he wandered in.

Click here.
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I'm beginning to think that we've moved into a pretty bad neighborhood. The other night, we saw a car-jacking across the street from our condo. The most horrifying detail of all? It was a police car.

No, I'm afraid I'm not making this up.
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Gotta write. Gotta write. Gotta write.

Gotta go.