HE WAS BAREFOOT ON THE PORCH

I'm looking for a new job.

A Roy Orbison live performance special is playing in the living room. My dad is so enthused about it that he got out his guitar (unplugged, of course) to strum and sing along with "Pretty Woman," amongst other classics. I'm balancing the surreality of this with the fact that I'm having black olive/mushroom pizza for the third night in a row. I'm concentrating on my iced latte in the fridge and trying to fill my stomach since coffee makes me sick if I'm hungry. Of course, eating this pizza again will make me sick, too. Lucky me!

I emailed Bob-voice-over-man at around 7:30 PM and he had written me back when I arrived home at 8:40. I will meet with him this Friday or sometime next week so he can evaluate my potential voice-acting skills and hopefully get me on the road to making more money/leaving retail-slash-ultralame-existence behind me. I'm praying praying praying.

This pizza really isn't that bad.