In which there is certainly something...
Marco Sparks: How's your day going? Other than making e-smoochies with your [redacted internet acronym] boyfriend, that is :)
Lollipop Gomez: We're planning our wedding right now. Do you think you can make it?
Marco: God, I'm sure gonna try. Wait, hold on, let me go get ordained at some internet church, and I'll officiate it. I know this really beautiful chat room where you can hold the ceremony.
(I'll skip over a bit of this, let's just say that there was further teasing involving wedding night sex, and then who would be the lucky cameraman for the big night, which turned into a joke on wedding night sex tape websites, and then turned into some kind of big name a-list arena event with celebrity guests and for some reason, Lollipop wasn't going to even give me proper tickets and I had to flirt my way into the press line. Fucking figures, you know?)
Lollipop: I don't like this. I'm getting cold feet. I'm calling off the wedding and running off in the back of a school bus with someone else.
Marco: Meanwhile, in this analogy, I'm off doing crazy freak stuff with MILFs. I've got one word for you: Plastics. That's how she likes it... I think. Sorry, that's probably deleted scenes from your movie.
Lollipop: It's in the director's cut. The extended version.
Marco: The super long special edition for collectors. The "I Can't Believe I Just Did That For Cash. Ooohh shit" edition. It's rated X, not NC-17, but they had to bring back X for it, as if it had old school Mickey Rourke in it or something. It's super sleazy and dirty. Like the original uncut Caligula. In fact, it does have Caligula in it. It's Malcolm McDowell, Helen Mirren, Mickey Rourke, and me and... well, it's not a career high for me, I'll tell you that right now.
Lollipop: Anything for your art, right?
Marco: Or money. Lots of money. Fuck you money, as they say. Enough money to film a porno on. Not just the budget, I mean, but to actually film all the artsy lit tasteful and not so tasteful fucking on the fucking cash. No "bed of cash," I want a "Waterworld sized film set" of cash.
Lollipop: I've always wondered why it isn't possible to film good movies with lots of sex in them. I guess because real actors aren't going to film themselves fucking on screen (with those rare exceptions, right?). It just doesn't make any sense to me, sex happens in life. I guess that's why I should probably move to Europe, where they understand this point of view.
Marco: Are you going to be an expatriate there with your [redacted internet acronym] boyfriend, maybe as part of your reconciliation with him?
Lollipop: Oh honey, no. When I move to France, I will take a French lover. I've always wanted a chain smoking beret wearing red wine swilling French man of my very own. [Redacted internet acronym] boyfriend will die of jealousy.
Marco: He'll hold a press conference and say, "I want to publicly tell her that..." and then blow his brains out on national TV, quite possibly international TV. Those signals they beam into space, you know the ones. Aliens will see that. They'll think that's what our stand up comedy is like. They'll say, "Humans... too dry."
Lollipop: Wow. That's very dark. You know, the lover was only temporary. But, I guess he'll never find out, right?
Marco: The French lover or your [redacted internet acronym] boyfriend? The sad thing is I really have no desire to live in France. I'll visit, maybe keep a villa there, maybe keep an ex-wife or two there, but I think I'd rather live in England. Maybe Spain. Maybe. Sadly, they're very anti-American there, at least that was the impression that I got from the Whit Stillman movie set there, that I loved, but I'll have a tan and be pretending to be a painter, so we'll see how it goes.
Lollipop: I'm crashing in the villa. You would love England. I just know it.
Marco: Yeah, I think I would. I can get away with a lot of the sick shit there that I should probably be allowed to get away with. I'll be hosting a nude tea party/poetry reading/art show when word comes in that your former inamorata killed himself on live TV (Condolences, by the way, though I never liked him - too swarthy). The poetry will be mine and the art part is that all the poems are written on the bodies of beautiful international models who will dance and prance around drinking tea and throwing it in journalist's faces. I'm this close to being called a misunderstood genius, you don't even know.
Lollipop: Well, maybe.
Dec 24th