Thursday, November 03, 2005

The Reverse Crying Game

This morning on the bus, I came very close to asking Forrest Whitaker for his autograph.

After a ten minutes of surreptitious glances and excited shuffling of my feet, an important question occurred to me:

What the fuck is Forrest Whitaker doing on a bus in downtown Brooklyn at 8:15 on a Thursday morning?

And then, another thought:

He should either get a stylist, or fire the one he has. Damn.

Good thing those particular thoughts entered my mind before I resolved to bother Mr. Whitaker.

Because, of course, the person seated across the aisle was not, in fact, Forrest Whitaker.

Furthermore, the person seated across the aisle was, in fact, a woman.

Yet again, I'm startled and impressed by my own brilliance. Woot!

[Novel update: 1, 819 words down...48,181 to go. Aaron has joined the, quest. Sweet.]


Anonymous Aaron said...

I got up early this morning to get started!

5:13 AM  
Blogger P/O said...

are you the woman who once asked me for an autograph, thinking i was antonio banderas? (i look *nothing* like antonio banderas.)

9:17 AM  
Blogger Sangroncito said...

I don't have a clue who Forrest Whitaker is, but have a great weekend anyway!

11:26 AM  

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