Snooty Daughter Has A New Job... Working For Top Hollywood Movie Producer

First of all, I wanted to update you on the outcome of the golf tournament. Zip. Zero. Nada. I hope I am explaining it to where everyone understands. Somehow, the club screwed up the rosters of who played with whom, as well as everyone's handicaps. It was supposed to be a scramble the first day, which consists of a 4 member team. An A player, a B player, a C player, and a D player (that would be me). For some reason I was put with two B players and one C player, none of whom were below the age of 70. Don't get me wrong, these three little old men were adorable and I had the best time playing with them. They were a riot and treated me like I was a princess. A totally new concept for me, I assure you.

Unfortunately, without an A player (who hits from the championship tees), we were sunk from the start, which makes it a rather lopsided tournament, in my opinion. Especially since I noticed more than a few teams with TWO A-Players. Uh-Huh. I'm just saying...

So, I didn't play in the best ball tournament on Sunday. Those really suck and I detest them. I did play on Monday in the shamble tournament, which means everyone gets to use the best drive and then their own balls after that. Once again, we had no A Player, which really pissed me off. We also had 3 women and one man who was like 75 years old. Once again, I saw many teams that had all men and several A Players on their teams. Once again, we were screwed from the start. Since there were no *flights* as in most tournaments, we really were doomed before we even started. In spite of this, I still had fun, but felt I should have thought a bit more about my team members, which I did not. I was kind of the albatross on our team, which is NEVER FUN, if you get my drift.

Fortunately, the Big News is that I behaved like a very good girl and never even so much as let a "damn" escape from my mouth either day. That, in itself, is really quite remarkable.

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My new camera arrived yesterday, so all is right with the world again. I was going into withdrawls without it. I'm serious...

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So, anyway... I am so excited I can hardly stand it! I am totally beside myself...

Snooty Daughter (SD) recently quit her job for the music producer who was, as SD described her, a Psycho Bitch. I swear, this woman was like Meryl Streep in "The Devil Wears Prada". While I will miss getting free music (sniff, sniff), I'm thrilled with her new job, as is she. She has gone to work as the second assistant to a Hollywood Movie Heavy Hitter Producer, where there will be more money coming in as well as plenty of room for advancement. This guy has produced movies such as Oooops! I can't tell you with all the potential stalkers lurking out there. I want to tell you so badly, but don't even ask me. I cannot open my precious daughter to the online crazy wack-o's. She is my dream daughter and I protect her fiercely. She means everything to me. Just know that her new boss has had plenty of Academy Award nominations and several wins. She is so excited and is finally going to be making more money. Yay! Someday, we might even be able to quit sending her extra money so she can make rent and eat. Now that would be a real treat for us, folks.

SD will now get to go to all the BIG TIME Hollywood movie parties around awards time. Hmmmm... I might have to strategically plan a trip out there to visit. (As if she would let me anywhere near any celebrities.) She knows me too well, dammit.

I really think I'd be just fine around celebrities. Well, as long as I keep my mouth shut and just smile a lot. Oh, who am I kidding? There is no way I could do anything but make a complete and total ass of myself. Over and over. First there would be the look of over-joyed recognition that all actors dread seeing when on their own turf. Oh Yeah. Then, there would probably be tears. Yes. I. Am. That. Ridiculous. I would try really hard not to cry. Honest Injun. However, I have something inside me that has always made me cry over everything sweet, sad, adorable, beautiful, breathtaking, heartbreaking, or whatever.

Sometimes I don't like being this way, but there is no way I can contain it. I've tried. I can no more control it than Drew Barrymore could control herself in "Firestarter" (And I think she was 7 or 8 years old at the time. I am 55. Uh-Huh.). And no, SD's new boss did not produce Firestarter.

Frankly, I just realized I've missed out on years and years of financial income. You know. Working as a Professional Crier. Surely there are people out there in need of a professional crier. Like say, people in the film industry. Right? Of course, they would have to pay for removal of the tattoo across my forehead that says *SAP*, which might get rather expensive. It's been there a long time.

I could also be a very effective critic. Okay, perhaps that's in my own mind and nowhere else in the world. Fine. However, I have damn good taste in movies and I know it. So, that career probably isn't going to materialize either. Too Bad. Whatever. I'm GOOD. So, eat your hearts out movie people. I could be your next Geriatric Critic (or perhaps the first). Believe it or not, we old farts used to like going to the movies... when there was still something worth paying for. Nowadays, you pay out the Wazzoo and you're not even sure if you'll like it. Hello. Wake Up Call... Anyone?

I believe I've strayed from where I initially started, so let me re-direct myself here. I'm really excited about SD's new job. Can you tell? Whether she allows me to go out to the Pacific Coast and visit her in her new endeavor, is still debatable. If I were her... I'd say no way unless therapy is involved for good ole Mom. Prior to the trip.