...and the Mystery of the Casting Debacle

I bet you thought I was never going to post again. It has been awhile, I admit. My apologies. I have been dealing with some difficult news. Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you, Ned Nickerson:



Here he is again:



Where to begin?

The guy who played one of the kids baby-sat by Vin Diesel in The Pacifier is playing my Emerson College-attending boyfriend?! Is he old enough to spell "college"?!

This is some fresh hell.

First of all, let me just say point out how traumatizing it is to have your life captured on film and to have someone cast as yourself. In my case, it's happened several times. It's always nerve-wracking.

And here's what I will be next year when the movie comes out:



Now.

As an aside, how hard is it to cast a female who has read one of my books? I don't know a way to say this modestly, but I would think it would take actual work to stumble upon a girl who has not picked up a book featuring me. There are hundreds of books to choose from, and most take a good eighty minutes (tops) to read? Not to brag or anything, but I'm sort of an American icon and all that, so maybe just once, one of these actresses could pick up a book about one of my many adventures before embarking upon them as "research".

And this new one, giving interviews that explain who I am. That's right, the "star" of Aquamarine is explaining to people who Nancy Drew is. And under insult to injury, you may also file that fact that she said I was "kind of like the Barbie of the 1930s".

I fear for this production.

I fear I am going to be hipped up. Oh, they are going to put me in those leg warmers for your arms, aren't they?

It's obvious what they want to do. Why must they send me to the Hollywood Hills? Whither River Heights? Yes, I may occasionally accompany my father Jimmy Cooper, er, Carson Drew on one of his business trips, but they usually do not end with me becoming enrolled in Hollywood High. I am mildly psyched about the Mini and the Blackberry which I will inevitably be given, but why must I investigate the excesses of young Hollywood? Is it because they plan to make lots of self-referential jokes about how they actually are the something terrible we fear (see also: Josie and the Pussycats)? I fear it is. The real Josie called me for months after that thing, depressed as all get out. I tried to console her, but really what are you gonna do once you see this onscreen? Good on her for having the sense to be depressed about it.

On a Josie related side note: Please please PLEASE let's move past the era where referencing something equals a joke. When did that happen? And why? Mentioning Jamba Juice or Abercrombie or Lindsay Lohan is not a joke. It's acknowledging that they exist both in the real world and in the world of the film/show/story, which....is not a joke. Meta peaked with Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead in the late 60s. To still be pulling this schtick nearly forty years later, when the novelty (which yes, may have sparked a philosophical examination of and shift in narrative theory) has worn off seems like nothing besides vanity, so please please please, help me out on this one.

Don't you miss the days when I looked like this?



I do too.