Day 2 (or is it Night 2) of 7pm-7am working. It's 4:48 am and I have to admit, I'm a little bit tired. Did a good job of not taking my lunch break until 4am. Unfortunately, there is a meeting at 7:30, half-an-hour after I should be leaving here and getting some zzzz's on. I finally told everybody to call me J-Ro, but Sean (the soup) says it doesn't flow. He can call Ilene "Salami" but J-Ro is too long??? Then again he calls Triple C "Trip." Of course, I think Trip sounds cool, but I keep expecting to see the guy from the Grifters pop out of the woodwork suddenly. I told Sean I didn't want to be called "J.R." because of friggin' "Dallas." 1981 was a horrible year to have the initials J.R. Every fucking village idiot and their mom would yell "Who shot J.R.?" And I would inevitable have to show them the error of their ways by replying "I dunno, but J.R. shot you, you son of a bitch!" and subsequently shooting them, which made staying in one place hard for me and my family. For some reasons, schools expel little children for crimes of passion. I mean, shit, I was 8! What was I supposed to do? Anyways, I suppose I should do a little bit of work now, followed by a little bit of napping, followed by a little bit of tv viewing and chit-chat, getting to know the crew better. Ilene and Finnamore were having a discussion of matters of the heart before, and I interrupted by proclaiming "I had my heart ripped out of my ass!" That made an impression, let me tell you. That and having dated an 18 year old when I was 28. If I'm not careful, I may end up with a reputation. I've always wanted one of those. New movie "Reinventing J-Ro."

n.p. 50 Cent - "In Da Club"