February 5, 2005
Well, they tracked enough mud in the house to host a truck pull, but the photographer and her crew have finally left us. It's been a while since I'd had my portrait taken at home. I had planned to pose in the Vega, perhaps wearing my vintage set of driving googles, gloves and scraf originally owned by Jack Warner. It was a no-go from the start however, partially because they had no talent fan. But mostly because the photographer liked the "atmosphere" in the billiards room. She used a smoke machine and made the place look as misty as the house from that Spielberg movie with the friendly alien. That's about how I felt by the time she got through her fifth reel. Perhaps I'll get the cover, Diary.