Mr NYC likes to keep it sexy and also keep it funny -- unfortunately, being funny and being sexy at the same time is a tough act to pull off. In case you hadn't noticed, this blog isn't all that funny or sexy. It just sorta is, you know, whatever ... strange. Like Mr NYC himself.
However, Sara Barron's column in this week's New York Press is both friggin' hilarious AND shockingly sexy. She writes about going home recently and, while rummaging around in a box of old stuff, discovering, of all things, an old porno script that she had written as a pubescent. The name of this never made dirty classic? The Porn!
It includes some really wonderful dialogue like:
“Take off that real sexy leather skirt,” he says in Scene 5, “We can get in my convertible. I got this Michael Bolton tape.” “OK,” answers Jenny. “I feel like some real wild humping anyway.”
You must read this. It will brighten your day.
(I just wish I had been cool enough to have done written something like this when I was that young. When I rummage through my childhood creations, it's all pictures of clouds and houses and stick figures and stuff like that. Super, super boring. But reading, this I realized that while you can't go home again, guess you can come home again. Get it? Okay ... that was bad. Sorry.)
However, Sara Barron's column in this week's New York Press is both friggin' hilarious AND shockingly sexy. She writes about going home recently and, while rummaging around in a box of old stuff, discovering, of all things, an old porno script that she had written as a pubescent. The name of this never made dirty classic? The Porn!
It includes some really wonderful dialogue like:
“Take off that real sexy leather skirt,” he says in Scene 5, “We can get in my convertible. I got this Michael Bolton tape.” “OK,” answers Jenny. “I feel like some real wild humping anyway.”
You must read this. It will brighten your day.
(I just wish I had been cool enough to have done written something like this when I was that young. When I rummage through my childhood creations, it's all pictures of clouds and houses and stick figures and stuff like that. Super, super boring. But reading, this I realized that while you can't go home again, guess you can come home again. Get it? Okay ... that was bad. Sorry.)
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