"Allegedly."
“Don’t you ever do anything except watch movies?” My father asks me. It’s my second week of summer vacation and not counting season one of How I Met Your Mother and The Larry Sander’s Show on DVD, I’ve watched about a thousand movies. Give or take. He musses my hair and I fight the urge to slap his hand away as he says, “You’re going to turn into a movie!”
One could only hope.
Often, I like to imagine myself on the big screen. And by me I mean me as portrayed by Amanda Bynes. I’d just be the auteur director/writer/executive producer on the other side of the camera. My life could be interesting-ish on the big screen or the direct to DVD. I say some funny things. My movie would be episodic seeing as how I’ve never done or said anything interesting that lasted for more than fifteen minutes. It’d be like Bonnie and Clyde but with less blood and maybe without that bullet in the eye scene Warren Beatty stole from The Battleship Potemkin. I’d leave it in, but I’m just not a fan of gore.
The movie could also be funny, but with heart; like the Forty-Year-Old Virgin except with less sex. (I didn’t get laid in high school. It is probably my source of pain. It’s why I write. All comedy comes from pain, supposedly. I should be good to go. I mean, I wasn’t molested or anything as a kid, but can you imagine if I was? Do you know how fucking funny I’d be?) My movie would also probably have to be centered around someone who did more than sit around watching Duck Soup for the ninetieth time looking for inspiration. But maybe let’s not get into the whole John Keats Ode to a Grecian Urn ‘do I make art or live art?’ argument. (However, if you wondered, I’d say it’s like a marriage and that you have to compromise.) Sometimes, I just want to sit at home and watch someone else perform, you know? No, of course you don’t. How could you? You’re so boring and ordinary. Although, so am I. And isn’t that what people want to see? Boring, ordinary -ridiculously good-looking people- doing boring and ordinary things but with flare? Alfred Hitchcock said that people enjoy movies because we are all voyeurs by nature. Is that why I paid fourteen dollars for a movie ticket to see Disturbia even though I knew it was just a mediocre remake of Rear Window? I honestly thought it was just because I had a thing for Shia La Bouf.
My movie’s climax could be when Amanda Bynes (as me) finally shaves her legs after three months of running around like a French whore under her jeans. She could say something really dramatic as she brings the blade to the hair like, “This is for you, Britney.” Something I’d absolutely never say in a million years. The audience, no doubt by this time, would be crying because they’d already been through so much with the character (me): not having sex, being hilarious, an incident regarding a projector screen that falls on me during an AP biology class in high school (one realizes it’s funny when they’re older), and now the shaving of the legs; a ritual girls have been going through since 11A.D. or something. Will she cut her legs to pieces? Will the boy notice her now that she’s shaved her legs? Did she remember to turn off the oven after making cupcakes?
Critics would rave about the movie, saying things like “Boring, but still better than Garden State. The new movie for indie assholes.”
I’d be an instant success and drop every friend I had before I became world-renowned. Fuck them. Don’t they know how famous I am now?
Quote of the day:
Sam: I always assumed The Simple Life was an advertisement for how to avoid flirting and skip straight to the vagina. But come to think of it I've never seen it.
Me: Its bad in a good way. Paris is just stupid. Nicole is funny. Nicole makes the show. She is the Lucy and Paris is the Ethel if Ethel were a total raging whore.
Sam: You're the last girl on earth capable of sexual procreation to ever compare anything to Lucy and Ethel.
One could only hope.
Often, I like to imagine myself on the big screen. And by me I mean me as portrayed by Amanda Bynes. I’d just be the auteur director/writer/executive producer on the other side of the camera. My life could be interesting-ish on the big screen or the direct to DVD. I say some funny things. My movie would be episodic seeing as how I’ve never done or said anything interesting that lasted for more than fifteen minutes. It’d be like Bonnie and Clyde but with less blood and maybe without that bullet in the eye scene Warren Beatty stole from The Battleship Potemkin. I’d leave it in, but I’m just not a fan of gore.
The movie could also be funny, but with heart; like the Forty-Year-Old Virgin except with less sex. (I didn’t get laid in high school. It is probably my source of pain. It’s why I write. All comedy comes from pain, supposedly. I should be good to go. I mean, I wasn’t molested or anything as a kid, but can you imagine if I was? Do you know how fucking funny I’d be?) My movie would also probably have to be centered around someone who did more than sit around watching Duck Soup for the ninetieth time looking for inspiration. But maybe let’s not get into the whole John Keats Ode to a Grecian Urn ‘do I make art or live art?’ argument. (However, if you wondered, I’d say it’s like a marriage and that you have to compromise.) Sometimes, I just want to sit at home and watch someone else perform, you know? No, of course you don’t. How could you? You’re so boring and ordinary. Although, so am I. And isn’t that what people want to see? Boring, ordinary -ridiculously good-looking people- doing boring and ordinary things but with flare? Alfred Hitchcock said that people enjoy movies because we are all voyeurs by nature. Is that why I paid fourteen dollars for a movie ticket to see Disturbia even though I knew it was just a mediocre remake of Rear Window? I honestly thought it was just because I had a thing for Shia La Bouf.
My movie’s climax could be when Amanda Bynes (as me) finally shaves her legs after three months of running around like a French whore under her jeans. She could say something really dramatic as she brings the blade to the hair like, “This is for you, Britney.” Something I’d absolutely never say in a million years. The audience, no doubt by this time, would be crying because they’d already been through so much with the character (me): not having sex, being hilarious, an incident regarding a projector screen that falls on me during an AP biology class in high school (one realizes it’s funny when they’re older), and now the shaving of the legs; a ritual girls have been going through since 11A.D. or something. Will she cut her legs to pieces? Will the boy notice her now that she’s shaved her legs? Did she remember to turn off the oven after making cupcakes?
Critics would rave about the movie, saying things like “Boring, but still better than Garden State. The new movie for indie assholes.”
I’d be an instant success and drop every friend I had before I became world-renowned. Fuck them. Don’t they know how famous I am now?
Quote of the day:
Sam: I always assumed The Simple Life was an advertisement for how to avoid flirting and skip straight to the vagina. But come to think of it I've never seen it.
Me: Its bad in a good way. Paris is just stupid. Nicole is funny. Nicole makes the show. She is the Lucy and Paris is the Ethel if Ethel were a total raging whore.
Sam: You're the last girl on earth capable of sexual procreation to ever compare anything to Lucy and Ethel.