Call me Emma… Emma Stone that is.

Emma 2 Is it so wrong that today at 9:30 a.m., I felt that I was Emma Stone. Yes, actually her — me/her = 1. I always though she was cute and had a decent edge, but today was different. I was walking on the treadmill, holding 2 lb. weights and doing everything to firm and develop my arms, while watching Kelly and Michael do there, we found the perfect morning talk show chemistry ever and we’re wallowing in it, shtick.  They were interviewing Emma Stone about the new Spiderman movie and after about one minute, I felt I was her. I am Emma Stone, are what my organic thoughts were. A smart, funny, confident, blue-eyed redhead that doesn’t take any of this showbiz biz too seriously, is embarrassed by all the attention, just wants a nice life with her cute boyfriend Spidey, wants to mostly wear a t-shirt and jeans with the occasional custom made couture piece of flawless fashion, own the world’s most gorgeous shoes, stay a redhead and do good work. Oh and show off that snarky sense of humor and playfulness whenever possible.

Or maybe I just want to be her when I grow up.

And please don’t private message me or publicly humiliate me on my fb page, that I’m old enough to be her mother, because I don’t care.

Kelly was in awe as Emma volleyed back funnies about filming on the streets of New York and how one can overhear the locals saying, “I hate these freakin’ movie people who come here and make more traffic!” Her smirks and quirky crinkled mouth and half-mast glares, were perfection. She’s an homage to the 1940’s dames like Rita Hayworth and Ann Sheridan – sassy. One of the boys, a broad, a doll.

I really don’t care if this sounds crazy and if I look in the mirror and see her, uh me, uh her. It’s like a film Noir plot… the redhead that thought she was the star… and took over her life… or maybe, she can play me in the film version of my novel, yea that’s the ticket.

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