Okay, Humble, Texas, is this some kind of wicked game you are playing with my feeble mind? If so, as Percival C. McLeach (George C. Scott) said in Rescuers Down Under, my mental faculties are TWICE what yours are, you PEA BRAIN! Love that line. Such a cleverly written accidental self diss. I really want to come up with something like that for my protagonist to say to her love interest in my latest --
Hey! Don't change the subject!
You spent seventy one minutes and thirty seconds reading eighteen pages on this blog yesterday, Humble. Eighteen pages? Yeah, I'd love to believe I'm THAT engaging, THAT informative, THAT valuable to the screenwriters of the blogosphere but even though I managed to get a nifty agent, I am still unproduced, unopted, and about to go back to work full time in local government so don't take me too seriously. I'm an evil she-devil and I really don't know what I'm talking about.
Who are you, Humble? Are you my beloved Aunt Sharon? Gimme a call, Auntie, I never can reach you on your cell phone. Cousin Davy? How's that job hunt going, Dave? Uncle James? Feel okay? Done with chemo?
Who else could it be -- let's see. My high school love is in the Houston area, but he hasn't emailed me since he remarried. Funny how that happens. Is that you, Kevin? I bet you threw my love letters away too, you cad. But, ha! I saved yours, so there!
My cousin, Natalie, works for NASA. That's the other side of the world from Humble. She was a bit of a ditz as a young girl and then one day in high school, everything clicked and she became megabrain! She has a t-shirt that says, "Yes, As a Matter of Fact, I AM a Rocket Scientist!" Gotta love that. I played the flute at her wedding. She didn't ask me to sing. Go figure. I'll have to tell you guys about Natalie sometime. Oh wait. Just did. Ever gonna have kids, Nat? You've been married, what? Five years now!
Okay, my long lost brother is in the Richmond/Sugarland vicinity so it's probably not him investigating what kind of person this half sister is who writes, emails and puts a gift under the tree for his son every year despite his apparent desire to have nothing to do with me. Some day, Quentin, I'll give ya a shout out at the Oscars. Guess you'll confess to knowing me then!
So, who are you, Humble?
Are you a stalker? I own a gun. Big one. Can't miss. Okay, yeah, I actually DO miss but if I aim at your feet, I'll most likely hit something vital in your upper hemisphere. Even if I don't, you'll lose a knee cap at the very least.
Are you a producer, Humble? Are you Sandra Bullock? I suck at Rom Coms, Sandy, but -- no, Sandra is in the Smithville area outside Austin. Matthew McConaughey? Meet me in person, dude. I'm not nearly as boring over dinner and I'll do rewrites under the table for free regardless of what WGA says because I'm a team player and because you're hot. Yeah, I know I just told Sandra that I suck writing Rom Coms but aren't you burned out after Failure to Launch?
Fine. I give up, Humble. You've perplexed me. Enjoy the blog.
UPDATE: Okay, Humble, I KNOW you have read this. You JUST spent seventeen minutes and thirteen seconds reading two pages. Yeah, you. I'm talking to you. Just how many people from Humble, Texas do you think come here? All I want to know is who the heck you are! And, if you are a screenwriter. Oh, and if you like me. Hey, do you know my aunt and uncle? Email me! firstname.lastname@example.org