Here's your new indie blockbuster, Hollywood!!!

Hey, sorry, folks, but things are about to get just a little meta. I try to avoid that sort of bullshit usually, but the problem here was that I apparently started writing an Internet diary entry for y'all the other night, and then passed out half way through. How did this happen? Hell if I know. I had gone through about three tins of chewing tobacco (I had never even chewed before!), so I was flying from that, and when I woke up I found two broken claw hammers on my bed. If you can figure that out, send me a letter with an illustration of the nights events. (I don't have time to read.)

In any case, I also found this partially completed diary entry. So what we have here is an entry in itself, as well as entry about an entry. Professors call it the "Arabian Nights Effect." (The Arabian Nights Effect is also what you call it when you don't know exactly who you got an std from, but I'm not talking about that here. Not here, and not anywhere.)

Without further ado:

I've been watching a lot of movies and television lately, and I've come to an important—and valuable—realization: you can squeeze a lot of entertainment out of people who are different from you. I've got to do more of this.

By "different from" I don't mean, like, racial people. Or even people who are retarded. I'm thinking more along the lines of a person who is just retarded in a specific way. Someone who doesn't get it when the dance they're doing is inappropriate (they just love to dance so much!), or someone who's good at math, but bad at talking to children and people.

These people, or "people," or whatever the politically correct term is, are walking goldmines! (Assuming they can walk.) Sometimes they're funny, sometimes they touch our hearts, but they're always engaging and entertaining. It's like their entertainment value is inversely proportional to their ability to understand social cues! Ha ha ha! I'm laughing already! Also, I'm touched! Also, cha-ching!

Brainstorm time!!!

Protagonist's name: Um... Dominic. No! something cuter! Mikey!

Mikey is a ... janitor! Duh! But he doesn't just mop and stuff like all the normal janitors. (That's why normal people don't get movies—too normal. This is a movie now, by the way.) No, he mops, but he also ballroom dances with his mop! And he takes it seriously! Ah ha ha ha!

And... he has names for all of his janitor tools: Sarah the mop, Jeff the bucket, Jeannie the knife! But he can't remember his real coworkers' names! Ha ha ha! (Also, why does he have a knife?! Ha ha!)

Ok, what happens to Mikey the dancing janitor? He falls in looOooOOoove! But does he even know what love is?! We're going to find out with the help of ... Sam! Sam is a girl, and she works at the building Mikey dance-cleans! She is a ... an account executive! I don't even know what that is, but it sounds boring and square! How is it that Sam is so young and so funky-hot? I don't care! But how is it that Sam is so stressed out with her account executive duties? Sam, who will teach you how to live? You, who have already accomplished so much in your short, hot life, and yet feel so little?!

We're starting to worry that no one can save you from yourself, as you sit in your office on yet another late-nighter, when ... someone who is just retarded enough to dance with a mop waltzes right by your open door! Literally waltzes! Well this is intriguing!

Except I think Mikey does something that rubs Sam the wrong way. It's probably just because she wishes she could fart around as much as he does, but she tells herself she doesn't like the way he forgot to dust the copier.

Here's where I left off. Both of the claw hammers had quite a bit of my hair and blood on them, so I'm assuming I stopped because of a concussion.

I was on to something though. Something good! I don't think I can finish it tonight, but where do we go from there?

Ok, Sam is angry/jealous at Mikey for his care-free life and thought-free brain. (He's not really thought-free, but we don't care about that. Not more than a dream sequence, anyway.) Sam is angry/jealous. They flirt a little bit (as much as a guy like Mikey can flirt ha ha), but Mikey does something to piss Sam off, like not have gone to college, or paint her car a color that's too fun while she's asleep. (That's it.)

This is probably the end for Weirdo and Juliet, huh? That's what I thought too, but NO! You know what Mikey does? He gets the shit kicked out of him by some toughs, because he was trying to defend Sam! Was he literally defending her, like from a mugging, or did he just stand up for her when some skeezy male coworkers were talking about her breasts? You know, that doesn't matter. Probably both.

What matters is that ol' Mikey just about dies! But not in a way that would make him physically ugly. And Sam realizes what an important thing they have, or could have, and she kisses him and lies down next to him in his hospital bed. It's sweet and sexy! And then she does something whimsical for him, like play him a song she wrote for/about him on the ukulele she is always too embarrassed to admit she owns and plays. And, oh my god, she's good at it! They're meant for each other!

They'll probably have a kid who is practically normal.

$24 million dollars, opening weekend. Good enough, because we spent only 11 million making it.