...next to Bill Murray, in questionable hotel somewhere in Asia, and he's saying to me: "No one will ever believe you."

It's Saturday and I'm sitting here bored, in my pajamas, listening to the mixed CD I made for my car, waiting for the wind to die down, for me to get hungry enough and for the thought of having baked beans for supper to make me sick enough that I get changed and actually leave the house.

I'm stumbling because I'm lazy and my attention span is proving short. I "stumble" across this:

Fifty People, One Question: Brooklyn from Fifty People, One Question on Vimeo.

My first answer was my bed since it's become my best friend over the last week or two. My next answer, after a bit of thought, was the title of this post which was brought on by reading the Bill Murray stories on No One Will Ever Believe You.

A part of me wishes (maybe just a little too hard) that at least some of the stories are true. Then there'll at least be a chance, infinitesimally small, that something similarly, awesomely, surreal might happen to me one day. It's not like I want to have his children and my walls aren't plastered with posters of him, but Bill Murray is made of awesomeness and who wouldn't wanted him to whisper those sweet, six words to them? Oh ok, just me then...



PS. If you haven't seen Zombieland, do so.