I love 30 Rock so much, that I wanna take it out behind the middle school and get it pregnant.
I like baked goods, nail polish, snakes, warm clothes, and painting. I collect antique inkwells and have an unhealthy obsessions with decorative vases.
What is my perfect date? I break into Tiffany’s at midnight. Do I go for the vault? No, I go for the chandelier. It’s priceless. As I’m taking it down, a woman catches me. She tells me to stop. It’s her father’s business. She’s Tiffany. I say no. We make love all night. In the morning the cops come and I escape in one of their uniforms. I tell her to meet me in Mexico but I go to Canada. I don’t trust her. Besides, I like the cold. Thirty years later, I get a postcard. I have a son and he’s the chief of police. This is where the story gets interesting: I tell Tiffany to meet me in Paris, by the Trocadero. She’s been waiting for me all these years; she’s never taken another lover. I don’t care, I don’t show up. I go to Berlin. That’s where I stashed the chandelier.
“I knew I did from that first moment we met. It was… Not love at first sight exactly, but - familiarity. Like: oh, hello, it’s you. It’s going to be you.”
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