I just had this stupid stupid day dream.

In which some celebrity finds out that my tarot readings come true, and they start this huge fad where all the stars come to me for readings. I keep telling the press, "I"m not psychic or anything. People believe what they want to believe, and people believe that my readings are true."

So this day dream starts with me in my two bedroom apartment that I share with Elizabeth in Boston or L.A. or San Fransico. I get a buzz from the front door, and someone says, "Mr. Efron would like a reading, Mr. Bernal." And I say, "Mr. Efron should know that I don't give readings afer five o'clock without an appointment." Than Zac's voice comes on. "Chris, come on let me in. I just need to see you." I sigh, and let him in, because I've always been a sucker for cute suck-ups. He comes up, and he sees that I'm writing a blog, which has become nationally read since I made the D-list. "Ugh," he ughs. "I hate that blog of yours. I read it everyday in fear that my name will be on there." Then we fight, because he thinks he should be able to control me, and I think that he's a snob. I tell him, "We're not even going out anymore, and it's not my fault that some drunk you fucked in a bathroom took a great oppurtunity to out you to the world." Then he sighs and says, "You're right, I'm sorry." Then he spends half an hour trying to get me to let him stay the night, which I can't because I've got an 8:00 reading with my favorite client, Jennifer Aniston. Besides, I broke up with him, and if I give him any ground I'd be slightly ashamed. Although my sister, who's just graduated highschool and is going to some great school on a volleyball/swimming scholarship, doesn't understand why I don't just use him back. She doesn't understand that I would never use my clients celebrity to get my plays published, which I've now started writing under a pen name.