This is M. Emmett Walsh.
The face might seem familiar because he's been in more than 10,000 movies and TV shows.
He's not only a terrific character actor, he's also my neighbor.
He lives in the house behind me.
He's funny.
Interesting.
And likable in every which way my other not-so-pleasant neighbors are not.
Recently, I was in my garage on my recumbent bike (a reminder, never buy anything from the NordicTrack company).
While I was pedaling away the pounds, OK, the ounces, I heard this -- verbatim -- in the 120+ decibel range from the house next to Emmett's…
"Fuck you."
"No, fuck you."
"Oh yeah, well, fuck you."
"Is that right, well, fuck you."
"Fuck you, you drunken fuck."
"I'm a drunken fuck? You sit on your fucking ass all day long, you lazy fuck."
"Fuck you."
"No, fuck you."
That went on for quite a while.
And then I heard a woman's voice.
She was on the phone.
"I had to take the phone outside the house. The boys are fighting again. Oh, I don't know, something about the remote control."
Did I mention the woman is in her 70's?
And the "boys" in question are both grown "men" in their late 40's who live with their mom?
Pretty glamorous, huh?
2 comments:
You sure you're not confusing it with a meeting to present creative to the account team?
sounds like that scene in Nebraska. what was great was the swag of the brothers who lived at home.
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