I'm intrigued by Vince Vaughn, the crook in 1968. What kind of urban capers would he be doing? I'm sure that portion of the movie would be done with a Quincy Jones soundtrack. Can't wait! Oh, yes I can.
@MrInBetween: It's simply an allergic reaction to downing dozens of beers while watching late night poker tournaments on ESPN. A few months of not doing that anymore should clear it right up.
Monday: Walked the dogs past Vince's house again. Wonder if he noticed? Tried to look out of the corner of my eye to see if the curtains on any of the windows were twitching, walked into lamp post. Pretty sure there was no curtain twitch. I hope.
Tuesday: Walked the dogs past Vince's house again. I love thinking of it as "Vince's house." I mean, it could be "Vince Vaughn's house," or "Mr. Vincent Vaughn's house," or "The home of the celebrated actor Vincent Vaughn." Or even "Fat Vinnie's Boss Crib." But "Vince's house" just sounds so cozy. Like something that was meant to be.
Wednesday: Walked the dogs past Vince's house again. I wonder if he would notice me if my name were Estella and we both were traveling through time together for thousands of years and he was a silk trader at some point, or maybe one of those Chinese kings who wore a hat shaped like a wooden shoe? Hmmm. This bears thinking about.
Thursday: Walked the dogs past Vince's house again. Mimsy laid a huge cable just at the foot of the driveway. I had to pick it up using some dead leaves. Ick.
Friday: I raced, screaming "I can't take it any more!' to Vince's house and hammered on the door, pleading and sobbing for him to open up the door, his heart, our lives, a new chapter in existence.
Some blonde who looked kind of strung out opened the door and told me this wasn't Vince's house, he lived over in Bel Air and her name was Courtney and did I want to hear her play this new song she'd been working on and did I think Yoko Ono was a great artist or a deranged bitch or maybe both. She kind of freaked me out, honestly.
Wow, that picture is making me feel something....something that reminds me of this, "She looked bloated, like a body long submerged in motionless water, and of that pallid hue. Her eyes, lost in the fatty ridges of her face looked like two small pieces of coal pressed into a lump of dough"
Oh, I love when "writers" take absolute bullshit and try to pass it off as real literary work, because they may have, possibly, not ever, actually met a celebrity and now that should mean they can turn an imaginary conversation into a book (book of $millions!) that anyone with firing synapses would tell you is the lamest way to ever bastardize the publishing industry next to letting some moose hunter offer her rendition of Jack Handey's Deep Thoughts.
@jupiterspaw: The eighteenth variation of Sergei Rachmaninoff's "Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini"! I love the Somewhere in Time reference--that was one of the first films I ever saw in a movie theater with my parents.. I've avoided it like the plague in my adult life, since I prefer to remember it as one of the greatest movies of all times!
@snugbug: And can we get Jon Favreau to play the zany OTHER stalker of Vince Vaughn who just wants to hang with him? Favreau would be sure-fire Oscar bait playing a down-on-his-luck poker cheat with a heart of gold.
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I mean, if you're going to lose your mind over such a random celebrity as Vaughan, wouldn't you want to romance him at his actual peak?
11/25/09
Monday: Walked the dogs past Vince's house again. Wonder if he noticed? Tried to look out of the corner of my eye to see if the curtains on any of the windows were twitching, walked into lamp post. Pretty sure there was no curtain twitch. I hope.
Tuesday: Walked the dogs past Vince's house again. I love thinking of it as "Vince's house." I mean, it could be "Vince Vaughn's house," or "Mr. Vincent Vaughn's house," or "The home of the celebrated actor Vincent Vaughn." Or even "Fat Vinnie's Boss Crib." But "Vince's house" just sounds so cozy. Like something that was meant to be.
Wednesday: Walked the dogs past Vince's house again. I wonder if he would notice me if my name were Estella and we both were traveling through time together for thousands of years and he was a silk trader at some point, or maybe one of those Chinese kings who wore a hat shaped like a wooden shoe? Hmmm. This bears thinking about.
Thursday: Walked the dogs past Vince's house again. Mimsy laid a huge cable just at the foot of the driveway. I had to pick it up using some dead leaves. Ick.
Friday: I raced, screaming "I can't take it any more!' to Vince's house and hammered on the door, pleading and sobbing for him to open up the door, his heart, our lives, a new chapter in existence.
Some blonde who looked kind of strung out opened the door and told me this wasn't Vince's house, he lived over in Bel Air and her name was Courtney and did I want to hear her play this new song she'd been working on and did I think Yoko Ono was a great artist or a deranged bitch or maybe both. She kind of freaked me out, honestly.
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She sold me with this one line.
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