I want to throw a party. Bizarrely, instead of holding my fete at my apartment or at Courtney's place, I decide to party at Scott's. This is a bad idea for several reasons. First, everyone who attends has to commute to the party from Madison. Furthermore, Scott lives in a building with many families and children. The music from my party is so loud that we're almost immediately called in to the cops. When the police arrive, I go out in the hallway to talk to them. I'm nervous, as there are several underage drinkers at my party; I don't want them or Scott to get busted. We negotiate a deal, I turn the music down, and the fuzz leaves.

Later in the evening, I hear a knock at the door. When I answer, a gangly, dopey-looking kid nervously says hello and shoves some papers into my hands. He's handed me his resume; he's applying for the opening at my lab, and he somehow tracked me down at Scott's. I have a stern talking-to with this kid and send him packing. Who would track down a prospective employer at 11:30 during a weekend?

I am wrapping up the filming of a movie, and I can't wait to finish and be on the way home. I apparently still live in Madison, since that's the home I'm looking forward to. It's about 3:30, and I'm thinking I'll be on the road by 4pm.

Unfortunately, my assistant informs me that reshoots are scheduled to begin around 4:30. I'm trying not to be the stereotypical pretentious, hard-to-work-with actress, but I really wanted the fuck out of the sound stage. I go, somewhat angrily, to my hotel to apply layers and layers of pancake stage makeup. Of course, I've got people to do this for me, but I'm still peeved.

After I have all the makeup on, I'm unrecognizable as the famous actress I am. People on the street don't stop to get photographs with me; instead, they're making fun of me because I've got so much makeup on. They obviously don't understand that this much makeup is necessary on camera. The teasing just gets me more worked up.

By the time I storm onstage to do reshoots, I'm fuming. The director is familiar to me; she looks at me and sighs. The stereotypical actress that I'm trying not to be -- that's somehow what I've become over the years.