Holy fucking Toledo. I'm still alive.

I've been gone for over a month, for no good reason. It's not that I've been insanely busy. I just haven't felt like writing. I've barely responded to e-mails. While still putting in some internet time, my reading has been desultory, half-hearted at best. Hell, I've barely done any work on the site at my new domain name, the one I've had since at least February. Just not in the mood.

I've composed entry after entry in my head, thought of how to write about my days and nights, but once I'd sit at the computer, I'd look at my keyboard and poof! All desire to write just evaporated, without even a puff of smoke to herald its disappearance.

My lack of writing desire is indicative of my mood in general. I've been feeling afloat, just drifting around with little direction, sort of going with the current of my life and feeling curiously lazy (as evidenced by the state of my once-again horribly messy apartment).

It may be the time of year. I was feeling rather ambivalent about life around this time last year. I allowed my apartment to acheive a messiness of epic proportions and didn't do a good cleaning between March and August, except for washing dishes, emptying the trash, cleaning the litter box and doing laundry (none of which was done as frequently as it should have been). While I haven't been quite as bad this year, I still feel a blanket of slothfulness enveloping me. It's disconcerting and comfortable at the same time.

Luckily my folks are coming over for dinner on Sunday, so I'll be forced to clean. I really should have people over more often.

I haven't been completely slothful, though. I finally sent out a bunch of headshots to addresses listed in the audition notices of BackStage West and actually got calls for two auditions. Both went well, I thought, but I didn't get the parts. That's ok, I'm really not expecting anything this soon. I've also applied for a few jobs and had an interview at Warner Brothers. The position didn't pay enough (department clerk in the Costume department, an entry level position), so I turned down the second interview, but the recruiter seemed to like me, which is always good.

With the exception of last week, when I was sick with a weird cold (with what felt like a touch of the stomach flu), I've been really good about keeping up my exercise routine. Well, that's not quite true. The previous week I didn't really do my 30-45 minute workout, but that's because my car broke down on my way back from an audition on the 19th and I was able to limp it home, with the help of bro Bob (that's a whole other story). So I've been either taking the bus or bicycling to work on most days. A maximum of 30 minutes of cycling or walking each day, but broken up in 15 minute increments. Didn't really feel like a workout.

Now I'm just waiting until I can afford to have my car fixed. The transmission doesn't want to go into first gear (it's an automatic) and will only do so manually if it's been running for a little while. Since I'm barely driving it (only the short drive to work on days when I'm running really late and I take the side streets to avoid holding up traffic while I crawl at 15-20 mph), my car doesn't get a chance to warm up enough to shift.

We've had another addition to the family. Sis Lisa gave birth to Pamela Ruth Taylor last Wednesday at 1:14pm via C-section. Little Pamie was 6 lbs, 4 ozs at birth and mother and baby are doing just fine.

Pamela Ruth. Named after my late sister and my mom (her middle name is Ruth). Lisa and Jeff have made all of us very happy with that name.

Yesterday was niece Julie's 11th birthday. We had a lovely party for her on Saturday.

Today would have been Grandma Bradford's 87th birthday. I miss you, Grandma.

A very odd thing happened yesterday, something I should have been freaked out by, but merely causes laughter when I think back on it.

I had just finished my second audition and walked back to my car that was parked on the street (the audition room was a 5 minute drive from my home). I got in my car, started it up and prepared to pull into traffic when a man walked in front of my car. At first I thought he was going to the car parked in front of me. Instead he walked around to my driver's side window. He looked harmless enough, with his thinning salt and pepper hair, beard and mustache. There was nothing in his hands and his quite short shorts and long sleeved top had no place to conceal anything. I took off my sunglasses (I've started wearing contacts) and looked at him questioningly.

"Hi," he said. "I'm an amateur photographer and I like to photograph attractive, interesting-looking people. Do you mind if I take a picture of you?"

"Depends on when and where," I replied, curious and amused.

"At your convenience. In your car, or where-ever you want. It's up to you."

"You mean right here?"

"If that's what you want."

"Sure. Why not?"

He broke into a wide smile. "Let me get my camera." He ran off around the corner. I hung out for a short while, the car still running and my hand on my keys, and watched in my rear-view mirror for him to show up, just to make sure it was a camera he brought back.

It was. Judging by the outline of his shorts I viewed in my side mirror as he approached my car, he may have left something behind. I rolled my eyes. He walked up to my window and smiled.

"Have you ever modeled?"

Geez, I thought, even I know that's the oldest line in the book.

"No."

He looked behind him to make sure he didn't step into traffic. Taking a quick step back, he focused his camera, then looked at the coming traffic and stepped forward again.

He smiled again. "You know, I'm very attracted to larger women, especially those with big breasts. You have very beautiful breasts."

I smiled, mainly in disbelief. "Thank you," I said, too stunned to say much else, though I know I appeared completely calm. My hand stayed on keys, and I readied myself to take off suddenly, if need be.

"Could you show me a little more of your breasts?"

My top was a little low-cut, showing some cleavage, but not outrageously so. Still, there was more than enough cleavage for a photo. "No," I said, still smiling. Though I was prepared to step on the gas, I felt no fear.

He nodded. "If not for the photo, then for me?" He looked a little pleading, but not desperate.

"No."

He smiled again, disappointed, but understanding. "Okay. Thank you for your time." He walked back around the corner.

I drove back home, looking in my rear-view mirror to make sure I wasn't being followed, and even took a couple of extra turns. Nope, he wasn't following me.

Once I got inside my apartment I started laughing my head off, completely unbelieving. I wondered if he had ever had success with that approach, if the other large women he had talked to had so little self-esteem that they would willingly show off their breasts to a stranger on the street.

There have been a few bizarre things that have happened in my life, but that's got one of the most bizarre.

Well, I'm tired and I've got to get ready for bed. I'm trying to go to sleep at a decent time these days. I don't always succeed, but I'm trying.

(Very trying, I know.)

Good night!

I'm retiring
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I still love Rob's journal and think he's just a big ol' cutie, but I want to branch out a little. So keep your eyes open for a new feature in this space.