Ugh...man, what a fuckin' day.

So, we arrive in Westwood at like, 3pm, but due to a number of factors mostly beyond our control, we managed to get screwed out of a decent place in line that, ultimately, prevents us from being one of the very few civilians to actually get in. By 8pm, we've been told to take some candy and kindly fuck off. Didn't even see a single damned celebrity 'cause we were in line, as opposed to being on the edges and in the pits with the photographers, the autograph hounds, the signholders, and the screamers. There's a number of people I could stake the blame on, but I'm just gonna let it fall on our shoulders and plan for next time. (Though I doubt I'll ever stop being surprised how people in the industry can't tell what films are going to be popular and what's going to bomb. I suppose it's a lack of perspective...)

By the time we were back into more civilized surroundings, nobody was in any shape to do much of anything. We were hungry, tired, and had aching feet. Food was had, 24 was watched, then several hours of God of War for the PS2 was played.

Fuckin' hell...