I won't be famous until after I've done a few best friend and sister roles, but then I'll be cast as the leading lady in a huge blockbuster, and that will be my big break. I'll be on the cover of all the gossip magazines and on the Tonight Show and Tyra.
After all the buzz dies down a little, I'll take some similar roles, trying to replicate my previous success, but they'll all be flops. Then, fearing that my career has already peaked, I'll fall into a cycle of drug use and rehab, repeating several times until I take up Kaballah or Scientology or cheesemaking or knitting and kick the habit for good. Then I'll be on the cover of Vanity Fair.
Inspired by my new-found lust for life, I'll take a role in a quirky, low-budget indie film, for which I will be nominated for an Academy Award. (Eventually, I will receive a total of three Oscar nominations, but I won't win until the third time.)
Then I'll go on Inside the Actors' Studio. These are my answers to the ten questions:
1. What is your favorite word?
2. What is your least favorite word?
3. What turns you on creatively, spiritually or emotionally?
-Perfect peace of mind
4. What turns you off?
5. What is your favorite curse word?
-"Bangers and Mash," and yes, I know it's technically not a curse word. I'm not even sure what exactly it means, but it's so fun to say, for instance, when you stub your toe or hit your head- and I hit my head on stuff a lot- you just go "Bangers and Mash!" and it's so satisfying.
6. What sound or noise do you love?
-I actually really love bag pipes
7. What sound or noise do you hate?
-Someone singing off-key
8. What profession other than your own would you like to attempt?
9. What profession would you not like to do?
10. If Heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates?
-"Well done, my good and faithful servant. Bathroom's over there." Because I'll probably have to go to the bathroom.
Then, after a string of highly-publicized romances with very famous, very handsome movie stars, all of which will end in bitter breakups, I will finally find true love with a director or a producer, or maybe a cameraman. We will be married in a multimillion dollar ceremony attended by such A-listers as John Travolta, Steven Speilberg and Oprah. We'll keep the ceremony a secret, but somehow photos from the event will wind up in half the magazines in the country.
The Hollywood press will invent some nickname for my husband and me by combining our first names and we'll pose together on red carpets and get voted cutest couple. (You know there's some magazine that has a "cutest couple" award. Hollywood is just like high school, except with lots of money and better cars.)
There will come a day when a photographer will get a picture of me in an empire-waist dress, the skirt of which is being blown by the wind in such a way that it looks like I'm pregnant, but I'm not. When I am pregnant, I won't try to hide it by wearing an empire-waist dress. Baby bumps are the new iPhones.
Eventually, through some combination of adoption from third-world countries and the fruit of my own womb, my husband and I will have six children. We will name them Khaki, Soccer, Lamppost, Cerulean, Halibut and Silly Putty. We'll make play dates for them with the children of other famous people and buy them extremely expensive strollers and baby clothes. They'll be pretty much the cutest kids ever.
I'll still be taking roles in movies, but less frequently and in more family-friendly projects. Then I'll decide that I want to retire from acting and start a farm in Connecticut with my husband, who will decide that he wants to retire from directing or producing or... camera-ing. We'll move to the farm with our kids and raise sheep and horses and host a spectacular Christmas party every year that will be attended by all the biggest stars.
The kids will grow up, and four of them will just live normal lives as accountants or teachers or something. One (probably Halibut- he definitely has the most potential) will become famous in his or her own right, as a director or screenwriter or musician, and one (most likely Cerulean- she's such a freeloader) will try to just coast on the fame of his or her parents until the world realizes what's going on. Then he or she will write a tell-all book about my life, and, though it will be poorly written, it will top all the bestseller charts for weeks.
I'll live out the rest of my days on the farm in Connecticut with my husband, maybe write a novel or two, and do a lot of charity work. Yep, my life will be so great when I'm famous... not that I've thought about it that much or anything.