I’m just like a young Diablo Cody, y’all (except older)! It’s true! Think about it. We’re both sassy young things from the midwest, aspiring writers who do things on stages to pay the bills. All tatted up? You’d better believe it, daddio! And we both blog! Honest to motherfucking blog! What else, we both have kids? Nah, I don’t know about that…Oscars? Hmm…Okay, we both have arms that look too manly for a tight red cocktail dress? Ding ding ding ding ding! That’s the sound of another match, people! Man, my baby didn’t sleep at all last night and I was up late working on my screenplay. It’s about a pregnant man who, through snappy dialog and the help of his zany friends and aquaintences, decides, fuck it man, I’m pushing this baby out through my dickhole and giving it the chance it needs. Much like Juno, it’s already got some copycat pregnancies…high profile ones. Did you hear about the pregnant man? (By the way, not to be insensitive to the issues that face our transgender neighbors, but that person is simply NOT a pregnant man. It’s a titless pregnant woman with a light beard. Much less exciting when it’s told like it is). Oh, spare me. I know the poor ‘pregnant man’ was already dragged through the limelight kicking and screaming a few months ago (‘Oprah, I hope my neighbors aren’t looking out their windows, or at televisions, or internet, or buying magazines, or walking by the magazines that I’m on the cover of with the headline 'pregnant man'…I really don’t want them to know about this’...well, as long as they're Amish, they won't, pregnant man), and I’m not interested in revisiting that too much, after all, who am I? The fat, pre diet Perez Hilton, (as opposed to the gross, tubby post diet Perez of today) reporting on things that are so six months ago? Hello? But, okay, I need to say something because the pregnant man and my screenplay further link me to Diablo Cody, my other half.
Did you say she’s writing about vampires next? Highschool horrors? Me too! That’s such a great coincidence. Strangely enough, my own nom de plume is Demonio Tex, which is kind of like hers, right? It’s so weird, but the coincidences don’t end there, guys! We’ve both got dark hair, two legs, big wieners, supple thighs, pet lizards, a love of campell soup’s extra chunky “twice baked potato’ and a close relationship with our grandmothers. Come to think of it, have you ever seen us in the same room? Getting photographed together? I haven’t. I think I may be onto something.
Eh, how many people out there do this kind of thing? It’s like that Adam Sandler dude from my improv class that I was writing about the other day. People see success and they just ape the successful people completely, down to the tiniest detail, and it’s sad. That pregnant man was at least doing her own thing. The next closest thing is probably Buck Angel, and you should really check him out, but you should probably wait until you’re home from work to do so.
But anyway, how many young bloggers out there are blogging in combination with writing a screenplay about pregnancy because it worked for Diablo Cody? About a billion. There are no ideas left, people. It’s time to throw art into the fire and just stick to taping ourselves giving and receiving blowjobs and call it a day.
Have you heard that band Jet? There you go. God is dead.