Hi. My Name is Riley. And I Haven’t Been a Teenager for Several Years.

I’m not dead. That’s the good news or bad news, depending on your like or dislike of me and how much you wish that I would be purged from the Earth for your own personal sanity. I may, however, have suffered slight brain death from writing far too much craptastic money-making nonsense, instead of my…
I have been meaning to update, and meaning to update, and meaning to update. Since our return to the country, it’s been a crazy time. I’m kind of aware of how I’ve gotten to a place where I am just so busy, and so brain-fried by day’s end, that I can’t even work in the occasional blog…
My uncle died at the end of August. He wasn’t the first. My mom had three siblings who never made it out of infancy. Three others – my Uncle Rodney, my Uncle Jerry and my Aunt Sue – died before I was born. When I was in junior high, my Aunt Annie died of cancer….
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audition??? what is this word you are using?
have you left tn yet? if you want to swing by wichita falls on your way, i have a guest room.
When you’re done with the OC audition why don’t you head on over to the new 90210 and audition for the shy and bookish transfer student who, after working late on a issue of West Berverly High’s newspaper, seduces Rob Estes’ daughter.
Could be a cool gig. In addition to the highly desirable paycheck factor, you would be one degree of seperation away from the Yardstick.
Seriously, you could play the younger sister of those ‘teenagers’ some of those guys have pretty impressive facial hair. When I was in secondary school, the guys had some pretty impressive pimple mustaches.
The OC? I thought the goal here was Power Rangers. Focus woman!
I have not left Tennessee yet, but soon… thank goodness. I’ll have to see how close Wichita Falls is to our route. We already have our hotel rooms booked (yes, we are THAT anxious to be the hell out of here) or I would take you up on that room offer.
Heh heh… pimple mustaches. Awesome. I wonder if that role will come available. I would seriously audition. And if I ever do meet Rob Estes, I make a solemn vow to ask him, “So, was the sexual tension as flagrant behind the scenes as it was on camera? Cause damn.”
I know. I need to focus. I seriously do. The past two days, I have worn leather wrist cuffs, and I kept saying, “Just give me some platform shoes. I could be Wonder Woman.”