I'm sorry to all of you who have been checking the blog like mad, hoping to find out some more juicy insight into the Ghitehouse/Would apartment. For the past couple days I have been working a freelance job, or what Julie's calls an "about damn time". Working as a freelancer typically leaves a lot of down time, and since Julie has amended the house rules to state "no running drug/prostitute rings out of the front window" I have had to find more "dignified work". It's been pretty grueling sitting in front of a computer at a post-production house watching people talk about beer all day.
Being out of the house more than Julie each day means that I have considerably less time to play pranks with her stuff. Now whenever I walk into the bathroom with a roll of cellophane, I'm grilled relentlessly till my whole plan is ruined. She seems to be delighted to have free run of the place again until I come home and "stink it up again" - Julie Whitehouse.
I can prove to her that I'm more than dashing good looks and a tight rear end but that I can also be a moderately constructive member of society. Perhaps now she won't make me sleep in the Zane Bed anymore, which deep down I know isn't just a kind of bed that Zanes have to sleep on, but rather an empty suitcase lined with kitty litter.
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