Between you and me, Mr. Gunn's little, uh, relapse had nothing to do with me tripping and using his stomach to catch myself. Nothing at all...

Things are going well. Although I think he's growling at me, which isn't so pleasant, but I'm just the PR guy here. I have a job to do.

Besides, canoeing accidents happen all the time. All the time. Not ( Read more... )

Oscars were great (except when Liv Tyler smacked me, which was weird, cuz I hadn't even opened my mouth yet - must be the eyebrows). Peter Jackson was busy, busy, busy, but I managed to get him everything he needed (and no, as far as I know, Wolfram & Hart had no bearing on the results). Met Elijah, Sean, and Dominic - Billy was using the restroom ( Read more... )

Do you need me to handle some extra work until your crisis gets some resolution? I'm here for you, man.

Also, here for Paige if she happens to be looking for me.

Something's going on around her that nobody's telling me about. I know Ms. Burkle was hospitalized and everything, but do we have a status report? I'm Public Relations here people. If she's deathly ill, I can parlay that into something...

She's not deathly ill, is she?Anyway. I have to go throw something away. Down in the employee lounge. Past ( Read more... )

Just having a normal, average, boring day. I've accepted that the Internet is still rife with pictures of Mr. Angel as a puppet. I can deal with that. There's a million ways to discredit the pictures. Nobody will fully believe them, but it's really a matter of putting reasonable doubt in people's heads. It's like making a closing argument to a jury ( Read more... )

I've been on a vicious search-and-destroy mission for those pictures of Mr. Angel as a puppet (which, I should note, never happened - authorities are still investigating the LSD incident and have a suspect in custody). I'm really deathly afraid that it's propagated too fast and too far for me to reasonably control. I called some shamans and ( Read more... )

*cough ( Read more... )

*applies ice*

Fucker still hurts.

Party was a bust, mainly because the host, i.e. me, spent the entire time in the kitchen with a beer and an icepack...

Dammit.

I'd go celibate, but somehow I don't see that happening.

ow.

ow

Happy freakin' birthday to me...

Fred is so amazing. I've been watching her change clothes. She's gone through about 12 different outfits now. Makes me wonder how necessary all of this is, but I'm not really complaining. I'm trying to be a gentleman and not look but I keep catching flashes and...

Oh. My.

I don't know how much longer I can hold out.