When Vicodin Fails
Work today was a combination of absurdity (“Where are we going to promote the Justin Timberlake poll? Is that 2-way a Skytel?”) and, well, absurdity (“I think that Christina image needs to be sharpened a bit. Does that story have an artist ID?”). Tomorrow, a 14-hour Grammy day, then rest.
In the absence of “Midnight Express” and “Year of the Dragon” at Blockbuster (Oliver Stone screenplay’s both), I rented “Mummy Returns.” Don’t ask what I was thinking. It was comic book bad. But as I’ve run out of Vicodin, and my teeth are still killing me, I guess it did as well as anything to numb the pain.