Natalie Portman is the reason I work out. I have this fantasy where we start talking at the Vanity Fair Oscars party bar. We exchange a few pleasantries. She asks what I do. I say I loved her in New Girl. She laughs. I get my drink.
"Well, see ya," I say and walk away. I've got her attention now. How many guys voluntarily leave a conversation with Natalie Portman? She touches her neck as she watches me leave.
Later, as the night's dragged on and the coterie of gorgeous narcissists grows increasingly loose, she finds me on the balcony, my bowtie undone, smoking a cigarette.
"Got a spare?" she asks.
"What's in it for me?" I say as I hand her one of my little white ladies. She smiles.
"Conversation with me, duh."
I laugh.
"What's so funny?" she protests.
"Nothing, nothing... It's just... don't you grow tired of the egos?"
"You get used to it," she says, lighting her cigarette and handing me back the lighter.
"What would you do if you weren't an actress?" I ask.
"Teaching, I think."
"And if I was your student, what would I be learning?"
"Discipline," she says quickly, looking up into my eyes, before changing the subject. "Where are you from?"
"Bermuda," I say.
"Oh wow. That's lovely."
"It's ok," I admit. "Not everything is to my liking."
"What could possibly be not to your liking in Bermuda?" she inquires.
"I don't like sand," I tell her. "It's coarse and rough and irritating and it gets everywhere."
Natalie Portman is the reason I work out. I have this fantasy where we start talking at the Vanity Fair Oscars party bar. We exchange a few pleasantries. She asks what I do. I say I loved her in New Girl. She laughs. I get my drink.
"Well, see ya," I say and walk away. I've got her attention now. How many guys voluntarily leave a conversation with Natalie Portman? She touches her neck as she watches me leave.
Later, as the night's dragged on and the coterie of gorgeous narcissists grows increasingly loose, she finds me on the balcony, my bowtie undone, smoking a cigarette.
"Got a spare?" she asks.
"What's in it for me?" I say as I hand her one of my little white ladies. She smiles.
"Conversation with me, duh."
I laugh.
"What's so funny?" she protests.
"Nothing, nothing... It's just... don't you grow tired of the egos?"
"You get used to it," she says, lighting her cigarette and handing me back the lighter.
"What would you do if you weren't an actress?" I ask.
"Teaching, I think."
"And if I was your student, what would I be learning?"
"Discipline," she says quickly, looking up into my eyes, before changing the subject. "Where are you from?"
"Bermuda," I say.
"Oh wow. That's lovely."
"It's ok," I admit. "Not everything is to my liking."
"What could possibly be not to your liking in Bermuda?" she inquires.
"I don't like sand," I tell her. "It's coarse and rough and irritating and it gets everywhere."
Sometimes I sit alone in my bathroom with the light off and pretend to be you
twitchquotes:Kripp if you're here right now reading this I want you to know I dream of you. Sometimes I sit alone in my bathroom with the light off and pretend to be you. I'll say things like "hey guys how's it goin' Kripparrian here", and for a brief moment I feel you inside me...
Kripp if you're here right now reading this I want you to know I dream of you. Sometimes I sit alone in my bathroom with the light off and pretend to be you. I'll say things like "hey guys how's it goin' Kripparrian here", and for a brief moment I feel you inside me...
twitchquotes:Bumper stared at the burger in his hand. Normally, he loved chowing down on his Big Mac like he chowed on these beta tanks like Swon or Muma or Super. But not today. Today, this burger was a sign of his failure. The double patties of meat reminded him not of succulent juicy beef but only the mighty veiny vascular muscles of Ameng. The seeded bread buns? It was Ameng’s cheeks as he squatted on Bumper’s face. The tomato? It was his blood dripping off Ameng’s hammer. The mayo? You know what it is
Bumper stared at the burger in his hand. Normally, he loved chowing down on his Big Mac like he chowed on these beta tanks like Swon or Muma or Super. But not today. Today, this burger was a sign of his failure. The double patties of meat reminded him not of succulent juicy beef but only the mighty veiny vascular muscles of Ameng. The seeded bread buns? It was Ameng’s cheeks as he squatted on Bumper’s face. The tomato? It was his blood dripping off Ameng’s hammer. The mayo? You know what it is
In Japan, heart surgeon
Number one. Steady hand. One day, yakuza boss need new heart. I do operation. But mistake! Yakuza boss die! Yakuza very mad! I hide fishing boat, come to America. No English, no food, no money. Darryl give me job. Now I have house, American car and new woman. Darryl save life.
My big secret. I kill yakuza boss on purpose. I good surgeon. The best!
Number one. Steady hand. One day, yakuza boss need new heart. I do operation. But mistake! Yakuza boss die! Yakuza very mad! I hide fishing boat, come to America. No English, no food, no money. Darryl give me job. Now I have house, American car and new woman. Darryl save life.
My big secret. I kill yakuza boss on purpose. I good surgeon. The best!