Bio Film & TV Video Myspace Boards Contact

So I’m going to excerpt some original

script material here.



We open with this narration:

Pardon the narration. But there are many
ways to tell a story. And I’m going to employ
as many of them as I can right here.
My life was in shambles. Even my dog had developed and entitlement complex. My life had become a Robek’s smoothie of chaos, obligation, pain and cellulite.

Without my noticing, my yearly OBGYN appointments had gone from pregnancy pamphlets, to the latest on menopause.

Was it over? Where had it all gone? And what could possibly be yet to come?

My sex drive had been replaced by a food drive. But quite frankly, I was never actually hungry for anything ? Except answers about everything?

I needed to know what would be going on 4 billion years from now. And I needed to know what those condoms were doing in my vasectomized husband’s wallet. And so our story begins.We are at the "Future Beyond Intelligence" store (FBI), on a trendy street.

Here Cindy Sherman is negotiating with a young, somewhat amused surveillance geek. In fact, there’s a sign on the counter that says, "Wait here to see Surveillance Geek".

Cindy’s got seventeen pieces of equipment laid out on the counter, all of which she feels she must buy NOW. Maybe two of which she can actually afford to buy ever.

She’s knee-deep in her bullshit story about having to set up a trap for a suspicious nanny (her panic making her forget that she already told the guy helping her that her kids were around his twenty-something age.)

In fact, her problems are far from nannies. It's more the concealed scrutiny of her son's girlfriends, whom she refers to as "ex-wives".

The more she realizes that he’s seen other versions of her dozens of times before, the more relaxed she feels?But the more she resents him and her asshole husband he’s beginning to remind her of.

Cindy: (To the clerk)

I saw another report last night, on 20 MINUTES? about the abusive nanny thing. Terrible. I just have to protect those kids of mine. They’re my life.

FBI Clerk:








Abusive nannies. Terrible thing. I had one.

I didn’t have one. My humor.

Cindy: (Slightly hysterically. Very nervously. Great effort at sincerity.)

Hahahahahaha. Funny. funny. Ha.


Be sure the fake products that you bring into the house are items your ? nanny ? is used to seeing there, so he ? uh, she ? doesn’t suspect that they may containing cameras. Like, do you always serve Hawaiian Punch? Cause this camera AKA huge can of Hawaiian Punch is a dead give away that either you suspect something, or you’ve become really thirsty for something really disgusting that adults don’t ordinarily drink.


I told you I have kids? Hence the nanny.


You told me your kids were a little older than me, hence my concern about the Hawaiian Punch.


Fine. That helps narrow the field of items I have to choose from.


This was hard. I actually thought maybe I should try suicide. I’d already tried the popular suicide substitutes: exercide, pizzacide, workacide? I’d had my fantasies of standing up to Matt, delivering his pain right back at him. Cut to a scene that has occurred many times in Cindy’s imagination: Cindy is dressed to the teeth, ready to walk out of their bedroom, and out the front door. Matt is seated, unsuspecting, on the bed. We see all of her in the shot, not neglecting her gorgeous spike heel shoes.




You’ve heard of ‘fuck me pumps’?

Well, these are fuck you pumps. (And out she goes.)One things we quickly get used to with Cindy is the clever use she’s found for her cell phone earpiece. Cindy works things out verbally, even if no one else is there. She talks to herself.

Nowadays, when caught, she simply picks up the cord to her earpiece and pinches it between two fingers, waving it at the person who is staring at her, indicating she is obviously "on the phone" (we see her whisper in a quick scene with a passerby on the street).



There a guy or a woman who suddenly knows all the languages and information they’ve been exposed to even slightly.


A wife dies. Her husband goes to her computer. He pushes the key, F1? which turns out to be the key to his wife’s whole life and who she was, none of which he had a clue about. F1 brings up a list of all documents.


A therapy session leads to the fulfillment of a figure of speech. A husband and wife are suddenly in each others’shoes, literally, for twenty-four hours.


Kim Basinger in a tender story of one boy’s crush. No judgment, just understanding.






Maintained by Darya