Hello, this is Neal. I've been supposed to be updating Jamie's page for her. And failing miserably. Please don't get disgruntled and leave, it's not her fault. It's all mine. I'll be better about it, really. I promise.

Whoa. Eye still black. Cable still in charge. Long time, no update.

And I'm rushing around like a crazy woman right now trying to get my ass on a plane to L.A. I have buddies to see, cocktails to drink, and tourists to mock. Postcards to send. Email me your address if you want one. Yes, I ripped that idea off of Joey. Shut up.

There were so many things I wanted to tell you. I wanted to write out the funny conversation Neal and I had at dinner last night, about what we would name streets. I wanted to tell you how my friend Gretchen has built me up so much, all her Hollywood friends will me solely disappointed. (Me: "Dude, they're going to be like, 'Gretchen, you said Jamie was so great, and all she does is sit around and drink and stare at cable and spill her drink on us.'" Gretch: "I'll be like, 'Yeah, isn't she great?!'")
I wanted to tell you all the different ways I could get discovered while in Hollywood.
I wanted to tell you about my first pedicure yesterday. She just about chopped off the end of my pinky toe. It bled. It's like a ghetto episode of Seinfeld around here. I wanted to tell you that my eye is still beat up. I have to go to the land of beautiful people with a shiner. Only, it's halfway healed. I'd rather it be a full-blown black eye, cause then people would look at me and go, "Oh, that girl has a black eye. She must be scrappy." Now they're just going to go, "My GOD! That girl looks tired. But just on half her face."
Ah, well. It'll have to wait till I return from the West Coast.

Kisses, dahlin.