How about if I wait six weeks to call. I could tell her I found her number while I was cleaning out my wallet, I can’t remember where we met. I’ll ask her what she looks like and then I’ll ask her if we fucked. How about that? Would that be money?
There aren’t any real developments on the Sci–Fi hosting front, and I only have one really great Fark Cliche left, which is why I haven’t written about it recently. Like I said before, I have to just let go of these things after a certain point, accept that it’s entirely out of my hands, and keep moving forward with everything else in my life.
But so many people sent me supportive e-mails and left supportive comments, I didn’t want to leave you all hanging with nothing, so here’s what I know: we followed up last week, and found out, for certain, that the people responsible for the show really liked what I did. As far as I know, I’m at the top of their list for the job. But we haven’t heard anything from the network people, who are ultimately responsible for making all the decisions.
And that’s where we’ve been, sort of floating in the doldrums on the Sea of Waiting. As far as I know, the show is still going to happen. As far as I know, when it does, I’m one of the first guys they are going to talk to about hosting it. And as soon as we open the box, I’ll let you know if the cat is dead or alive.
Until I know something new, let’s all ponder the meaning of life with these owls: