My Big Head Movie
The movie industry can suck it. As long as huge multiplexes exist, I am never making a film. OK, I'm scripting delusions of grandeur. If an offer should be extended to me, it'll be for a movie. I AM NOT A FILM KIND OF GAL. Me no Merchant Ivory. They make films. I'm totally McG. Way McG.
Here's my McG pitch! A wacky trio cooked up by studio execs who like cocaine: Jackie Chan, Demi Moore and ME as FED EX employees. Driving trucks without doors, scanning tracking numbers, asking people to sign the box in that calculator looking thing with the plastic fake pen. Jackie will employ martial arts when delivering packages, kicking boxes to doors. Demi, who looks like a giant next to Jackie and I, shows her tits so customers don't get wicked pissed if we miss a deadline. I'm the mean, tiny boss, who happens to have a limp and it's hysterical! But that turns out to be just our cover. We're really bakery chefs. Our specialty is pornographic cakes. Like lemon boob cakes with chocolate frosting nipples. Hot fudge penis cupcakes which, at first glance, look like little Washington Monuments. Upon second inspection, it's an uncircumcised wang. Somebody's going to get a mouthful of strawberry filling cum! Movie's title? Priority Confections. Tag line: All kinds of packages.
I smell a hit. 40M opening weekend. At the premiere Entertainment Tonight's Mary Hart asks me, "How do you like stardom?" And I retort, "I'll tell you who likes my stardom. Poor relatives and student loan collecting cunts." Mary faints.
Back to reality, back to life. Hear me now and believe me later. The real reason I won't make a movie is that I am thoroughly opposed, really diggin' in the heels here, to ever see my own head on a 70 mm screen. A grainy close up of my uneven nostrils, huge face and prominent frontal lobe jumps the catastrophe shark. Ugh. Not only would I decline viewing such a horror on my own behalf, I would caution any Cro-Magnon walking upright to avoid a mere glimpse my big, big head. My forehead has caused blindness in mice.
IMAX = unparalled carnage.
posted by Shannon E. Ennis at
Saturday, January 12, 2008
Here's my McG pitch! A wacky trio cooked up by studio execs who like cocaine: Jackie Chan, Demi Moore and ME as FED EX employees. Driving trucks without doors, scanning tracking numbers, asking people to sign the box in that calculator looking thing with the plastic fake pen. Jackie will employ martial arts when delivering packages, kicking boxes to doors. Demi, who looks like a giant next to Jackie and I, shows her tits so customers don't get wicked pissed if we miss a deadline. I'm the mean, tiny boss, who happens to have a limp and it's hysterical! But that turns out to be just our cover. We're really bakery chefs. Our specialty is pornographic cakes. Like lemon boob cakes with chocolate frosting nipples. Hot fudge penis cupcakes which, at first glance, look like little Washington Monuments. Upon second inspection, it's an uncircumcised wang. Somebody's going to get a mouthful of strawberry filling cum! Movie's title? Priority Confections. Tag line: All kinds of packages.
I smell a hit. 40M opening weekend. At the premiere Entertainment Tonight's Mary Hart asks me, "How do you like stardom?" And I retort, "I'll tell you who likes my stardom. Poor relatives and student loan collecting cunts." Mary faints.
Back to reality, back to life. Hear me now and believe me later. The real reason I won't make a movie is that I am thoroughly opposed, really diggin' in the heels here, to ever see my own head on a 70 mm screen. A grainy close up of my uneven nostrils, huge face and prominent frontal lobe jumps the catastrophe shark. Ugh. Not only would I decline viewing such a horror on my own behalf, I would caution any Cro-Magnon walking upright to avoid a mere glimpse my big, big head. My forehead has caused blindness in mice.
IMAX = unparalled carnage.
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