I want to be just like Johnny Depp in that movie where he plays a rare book dealer/sleuth, and then gets involved in the occult somewhere in Europe that Roman Polanski probably spends his weekends on the lam, finally ending up in the same ending as Eyes Wide Shut, only it made less sense. Except I'm way more genial than his character, a lot more gregarious, probably more generous, prone to alliteration, and have a penchant for irony (see my profile headline). Also, I'm not a chain smoker like him, either (I made the mistake of reading The Stranger a week after I quit, and the experience left me a little bitter). I'm like a cross between Chandler and Ross: incessant wisecracks (minus the whole needy-defense-mechanism-thing) in a geeky but lovable spazz (minus the volatile and annoying rants). I really don't like people who point their Thomas Pynchon novels toward the aisle while faking a nap on the plane/bus/subway, so that everyone can plainly read the cover and either feel inferior or cop a smug smile at the pretention as they walk by. Did I mention irony's in again in 2008? Pardon the alliteration.
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