As I've said before, I did mess with Texas, and they didn't do shit about it. We love each other, me and Texas. We have an understanding.
Yesterday, the anniversary of my birth, I worked all day, handled any number of crises, and fell out before 11:00.
Here at the hotel yesterday there was this bizarre casting call thing for kids and teens, apparantly some kind of farming for the next Disney or Nickelodean star. I didn't see the next Miley Cyrus or Hilary Duff, but I did see a lot of parents with bigger dreams for their kids (and their wallets) than their little brats will be able to muster. Cute? Some of them. But mostly it was little girls tugging at their skirts and little boys who would have rather been any where else. The teen girls were all tramped up with ridiculously tight, short clothing and Jean Benet Ramsey makeup. The boys were all trying to be too cool for school and I told one of them "break a leg" and he looked at me like I literally meant I wish he would break a leg. It was bizarre and sad and strange.
Meanwhile, there was mention of finding a cultural experience for the African and European visitors, but I think all they want to do is go to Wal Mart. Which is a cultural experience all its own now that I think about it.