Wouldn’t it be great if I could spend millions of other people’s dollars shitting out a meandering cinematic therapy session about my daddy issues?
What if it took place at the Chateau Marmont? That way, I could direct an entire movie without ever having to leave the hotel pool.
Maybe my rock star baby daddy could play some of his music on the soundtrack. If he lets me use everyone’s favorite song in the trailer, it’ll make it seem like I’m tapping into a deep well of emotion instead of regurgitating yet another self-centered story about the emotional immaturity that comes with a life of privilege and excess.
Oh wait, what am I thinking? I’m not Hollywood royalty. No one in their right mind would let me do that.
I guess I’ll just go write something snarky on my blog instead.