First Entry

Today was trauma all over the place. First of all, the housekeeper, Lupe, nearly quit and I had to promise to give her a raise. And my lousy personal assistant is good for nothing in a situation like that. I swear, he just gets that deer-in-the-headlights look and freezes. Like, what am I paying him for? Some days I just want to smack his moon face and say, "Knute, you are so fired." He is totally a dream at getting me tables when I want to go out, so I suppose I'll keep him around for awhile longer, but he is treading on thin ice. I mean really, when the domestics get hysterical, I don't think I should have to talk to them. Isn't that his job?
I'm off to an opening tonight and Tweetie will be here in a bit to do my face. Tweetie does not need any publicity, because she is fabulous and I would die if I lost her. She makes cold sores totally disappear. She's like Doug Henning or David Copperfield or some other slightly gay magician. Although, she's a girl and I don't think she's gay. I mean, she's never hit on me, so I'm sure she isn't.
This is all very boring, I think I will have Knute do this from now on. I don't really know much about blogs, my press agent says they are free advertising, so that's why I had Knute set this up. I may just get his fat fingers to type up something everyday or so and make it sound like me. I mean, I really don't have time for this.