Meanderings of a Lost Soul

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Breakfast At Tiffany's

Jennifer Huge Tits
By N. Mark Castro




I hate have to admit it, but I did fall at one time or another for her boobs, charms, beauty, acting ... damnit, her. But after painfully watching her last night on Hallmark TV, I was like ... what the hell was I thinking?



There was nothing else on TV: the news just kept repeating itself, and because of the terrorists, it's Danger Level Red outside. The streets are running thick with nitroglycerin and shampoo. Better not go out there. But how do you take your mind off Homeland Security’s obsession with toiletries? A made-for-TV biopic, that’s how!

Naturally the best made-for-TV biopics contain the most insipid scripts ever written with which marginally talented B- and C-list celebrities struggle to portray A-list celebrities. Naturally, because of the multiple layers of irony, I am a fan of the genre, but only occasionally indulge the passion, as it tends to drain my lobe of its precious obstreperal fluids.

After an evening of tinkering with my friend's computer, I headed home and within moments of taking up the remote between hopeful thumb and forefinger, I was bored by the world's pronouncements of "WE", "WE", "WE". "WE" want this, "WE" want that. Iran was saying "WE". Palestine was saying "WE." Syria was saying "WE". Israel was saying "WE". America was saying "WE."

I've come to believe that "WE" stand for: "WORTHLESS EXCREMENT," is what it is.

Thankfully, I struck comedy gold on the Hallmark channel with ‘The Audrey Hepburn Story’.

It was with a sparkle in my eye, a bounce in my buns, and an Alka Seltzer in my gullet that I broke out the air-conditioned dried sandwich and docked the Twisty keister (or ‘Tweister’) [my term for Frutang] in the bed. Words can but insufficiently express the infinite mirth which I was to savor the abject enormity of Jennifer Love Hewitt breasts as the most inimitable and iconic film star of the 20th century.

That’s right. Jennifer Love Hewitt.

Sheer madness! Never was a 90’s teen heartthrob so exquisitely way out of her league as this Jennifer Love Hewitt in ‘The Audrey Hepburn Story’. She is so way out of her league she can’t even see her league anymore; indeed, she has clearly begun to doubt the existence of her league at all. Her game struggle with Hepburn’s patrician accent accentuates the delicious sensation that we’re watching an Alabama high school production of ‘Arsenic and Old Lace’, or at the very least an Old Navy commercial. Love never once succeeds, even remotely, in achieving the slightest Hepburnianity. And because the actual Hepburn had, by Hollywood standards, a remarkably uncinematic life, the script is equally vapid.

Love: I doughn’t want to play the cute young girl forevah. I wohnt my life too mean something.

And that’s not all. There are brilliantly satisfying manglements all around. such as when some GQ model dude inexplicably cast as William Holden says “I’m crazy for ya baby and I’m not givin’ up no matter what you say.” (Alas, Audrey simply cahnt marry him because he’s had a vasectomy, and she just wouldn’t feel married without children!)

And that dude Will from ‘Will & Grace’ plays Mel Ferrer exactly like he plays Will. That poor fuck’s got sitcom stink on him, but good.

More excruciating exerpts:

Will: Miss Hepburn has just been nominated for an Oscar.
Love (with melodramatic swoon): An Ah-skah!

Will again: You’ve given a whole generation of girls the sense that–that–something else is possible in life!

That’s right, Will. If they’re 103 pounds and freakishly gorgeous and pepetually 22 years old, they, too, can live in Switzerland and be Givenchy’s muse.

Oh dear Allah! Give me something else to watch!