One of the many joys of freelancing is the occasional really cool job. And I just got one.

Tribune Broadcasting provides a one-stop shop for show information for its WB and Fox TV stations. They do news, recaps, about the show... the works. And I am going to be the contributor for two Fox shows: Firefly and Fastlane.

Yes, they're paying me to watch TV. What's more, they're paying me to watch a Joss Whedon show. My little heart goes pitter-pat.

Anyway, you can see my first assignment here. Oooh, and you can take my poll about the show here.

You know what else this means? It means TiVo and DirecTV are now Legitimate Business Expenses. Wheee!

Ah, the joys of public transport. Dawn sent this story around:

OK. I'm riding the CTA home this evening, and through the crowd a notice a woman, headphones on, reading the pink issue of Bitch magazine. (Same one Sarah's-Sister's article is in. You know, the one with the confusing sex toys.)

[Just to clarify, Amy's article isn't about sex toys -- it's about culture and religion and body image, among other things. I'd brought the Girl's Night Out group the mag to show off Amy's article, and Kat pointed out that the magazine prominently advertises some pretty odd sex toys. We had no idea how some of them worked, and as a group, we'd seen ourselves some sex toys.]

She's intently reading the magazine, while sitting next to her, with her Newberry Library Tote-Bag, is the most mortified elderly woman I've ever seen. She got flustered and kept her eyes averted [from the magazine] from the Merchandise Mart till about Armitage. By Belmont, she was sneaking peeks. By Western, fugedaboutit.. she was hooked.

Cracked my ass up!

See? Everyone can benefit from a good Bitch!

I encourage you all to pick up a copy of the magazine, because Amy's article is pretty damn good. Check it out.

Of course, this means that Amy, who doesn't define herself as a writer, has had a freelance piece published in a magazine before I, the "writer", have. So I may have to kill her, just on principle.

I've written three posts, and they've all come out as whiny. So ignore me, go visit these actually fun site:

Villain Supply Company -- the place to get your Doomsday Device, Evil Superpower of Henchperson gear. It made me laugh.

Demon bowling, courtesy of the Angel segment of the WB's site.

In a similar vein (hah hah! Get it? 'Cos he's a vampire. You know, vein, vampire... oh, never mind) Brunching Shuttlecocks has an exceedingly random, strangely addictive game featuring an angry miniature nun; rock, paper and scissors; and coffee. No, I don't know why. Just play it. And while you're there, check out all their Bandwidth Theater offerings.

Modern Humorist's take on the fall TV schedule is pretty damn funny. Don't forget to check out the cable grid!

Happy birthday, Lotti.

And now, a note to those who try to guilt people into giving to their cause by sending free, unsolicited address labels:

Said ploy is much more effective if you bother to check that you've spelled said person's name right.

A memo to anyone developing and/or filming a TV show in which a web site is a key plot element and the URL is plastered all over the screen:

BUILD THE DAMN SITE!

Really, people, it's not too big a leap to make. You're creating a world, right? You're building sets and establishing costumes and giving characters back stories and such. So take that one extra step and build the prominently mentioned site. Because yes, geeks like me will check.

And don't give me this "we're building it, it's under construuuuuuuuction" crap. How long have you had this script? How long ago did you film? You're not making this up live, people -- you've got time to get it built.

"But we came up with a great URL, but someone else oooooooooowns it." So buy it, or pick another URL.

What, do I have to think of everything?

Talk to Wendy. She's good at this.

And what was my Sunday made of? The paper, the Witchblade marathon and filing. Damn, do I know how to party.

I tend to hang on to things. Sometimes it's the result of annoying paranoia -- just when, for example, is it safe to shred my bank statements? Can I get rid of the ones from 1997? But sometimes it's kind of fun. I keep unearthing things that remind me of stuff I'd completely forgotten about. For example: When I was in college, I worked on a wannabe-cool alternative newspaper called Ditto. There was much that was wrong with Ditto -- lord, don't get me started -- but a few things that were very, very right. For example, it's where I started really hanging out with Jane, who, among other things, was our mystical horoscope scribe, Madame Eccentrica. She made up the signs, made up the 'scopes, and generally had a good time with it. Evidently she'd written one for me, which is as follows:

Madame Eccentrica's Daily Dollop 'o Wisdom:

Squid (feline fanciers, deplorers of jingoistic nationalism, easy targets for malicious humor): Tuxedoed birds come to you in a dream and beg you to take on the persona of an enigmatic oracle for the betterment of bettors everywhere. When you stare at the ceiling, you think of Belgium and Austria. Feta figures prominently.

I'm sure it was all very pointed and relevant -- hell, I printed it out in 16-point type -- but I have absolutely no recollection of what any of it is referring to. Hmmmm.