This Friday, ladies and gentlemen: Dane Cook.

Matt and I went on Sunday to the Dead Poetic concert at the Pound. I got all band members, excluding the singer, to sign my insert. We walked out deaf and happy. They played all my favorite songs, including the first song of theirs that I ever heard.

The My Chemical Romance concert is for twenty-one years and older, so Matt and I will need to conjure up some fake IDs. Yes. Right.

I am directing so much right now that I could spit. If it were all one big project, at least everything would be homogenous. Unfortunately, it's a short film, a teaser for a series, a scene for my Directing for Stage final, and a one-act play for next semester's Student Repertory Theatre. I spent six straight hours typing up and cutting down that damn script yesterday.

"Three Musketeers" went out with a bang, and we had a gloriously smooth closing night. I went to bed at six the next morning, after spending most of the previous hours caring for Drew, who had imbibed a wee bit much.

I'll see everyone on Friday. Until then, please get more sleep than I have been receiving, throw a couple Molotovs in your neighbor's backyard, and keep oul' Erin's Isle in your hearts.