So I think I have a "strawberry blondie boy virus". I saw the cutie red head stud muffie boy at church, always stunningly dressed in a suit that looks great on him, and I'm like "oh my god, he's so darned cute!"

I feel like I'm 13 years old and I'm having a crush on a rock star or something. It's a virus and a sickness, this school girl crush thing.

I think he was staring at me, but of course, I was engaged in conversation with someone. Strawberry blondie boy must be on my mind, because I swear to God I saw him walking down the street when I took Muni to see "Wicked".

Talk about a triple double take. There he was, or at least I think it was him, walking down the street and of course his great dress sense in suits applied to his casual dress, and he was looking mighty fine.

I think some guys just know how to dress themselves to look good and leave women with their tongues hanging out, and some guys just don't. There is no in between.

I think he's even cuter than marina hottie screenwriting guy, and C was hollywood movie star cute and every woman in screenwriting class was after him.

Strawberry blondie Jesus man is physically not that cute, and I know that intellectually, and that's why I have to conclude that my crush on him is a virus, an illness, something I can't control. And I hate that, because I think I'm like such a control freak.

If I ever end up talking to him, I know I'm just going to babble and blow it because my crush level is at 125% and that's bad. I'll get nervous and I'll end up giggling like a teenager, because that's the way he makes me feel. It's ill, it's totally ill.

Like I really enjoyed being 13 years old and want to be reminded what a stupid airheaded space cadet teenager I was.

I'm going to have to calm myself down, if I really want talk to him and get to know him to find out if he's even worth more than a minute of my time. But I can't. I'm like in a full throttle school girl crush, and I've already picked out the name of our child and decided what he'd look like (I want his babies), fantasized what my mother will think of him, and am debating if I want to be a June or July bride.

And I haven't even met the guy or been properly introduced. I hate feeling like a 13 year old.

I never fantasized having children with the marina hottie boy, and that's an interesting sidenote to this school girl crush of mine.

A friend from screenwriting class just found he was a first round finalist in a contest. This means he was chosen for the top 45 out of 550 screenplay entries.

Wow. I didn't think his screenplay was that good. I mean it was good, but it wasn't great.

I definitely need to finish my screenplay and start sending it off. Julie my screenwriting teacher said she thought my screenplay was contest ready, and I know she said the same thing to my friend, and now he's a first round finalist on his first screenplay.

If you want to be hip, you'd better start drinking "PBR" or Pabst beer, or so says The New York Times in an article entitled The Marketing of No Marketing.

It's actually a good read on the philosophy of marketing or how or how not to gain market share.

The best bit -

"But any trend with even the slightest commercial implications in the American marketplace immediately becomes subject to two iron laws. The first is that it will attract a swarm of consultants, marketers and journalists, trying to deduce the trend's origins. Second, efforts will be made to amplify and prolong the trend, profitably."

The barbeque was fun, but I hate when the host does not cook the meats thoroughly and it's all rare. Don't they know that some of us want our fish totally cooked.

Do other people have friends like this, who in the middle of a conversation find a way to say, "By the way, I'm a direct descendant of Oliver Cromwell". Isn't that special?

My friends do know their wine though. I had a great wine called "Santino Satyricon". Besides being a great wine, the label has a great story.

The original wine label had a nekkid woman on it, but apparently our federal government regulates what goes on wine labels. Like doesn't the government have anything better to do than to regulate what goes on wine labels?

Anyway, the Santino winery had to put a white dress on the woman courtesy of our federal government. And no, this isn't a John Ashcroft, let's put dresses on the nekkid justices statues. The government wine label regulations predate Ashcroft.