Friday, May 13, 2011

Day 163 - When Julie Met Julia

Day 163.

[Ed note: This was originally published on Wednesday, May 11th. Blogger done fucked up.]

The first time I saw Julie & Julia (so, so long ago), I felt pretty gypped by the ending. Like actually, I was pretty sure I'd just been swindled, hoodwinked, cheated, even bamboozled! I mean, it was a perfectly suitable ending--it's just that Julie and Julia never got to meet in person and that kind of bothered me. Like, what the fuck was the point of watching these dueling narratives for the past two hours if they were never going to intersect? Fucking bullshit.

I mean, yes, I get that they never met in real life so to just conjure up a fake interaction out of thin air would probably be fairly disrespectful to the parties involved.

But then again, this entire fucking excuse of a movie was fairly disrespectful to the parties involved.

Julie, checking to make sure no one's around so she can masturbate in public in peace.

So I now present to you a deleted scene from the version of Julie & Julia in my head, aptly titled "When Julie Met Julia."

Julie Powell (30) and Julia Child (90) sit across from each other at a quaint little cafe in Cambridge, Massachusetts.

Julie: Oh my gosh, this is so amazing! I've waited so long to meet you, Ms. Child. Like, this is the most surreal thing that's ever happened to me.
Julia (cups her hand to her ear): WHAT??
Julia: Sir Eel? I don't know him, sorry.
Julie: Uhhh, nevermind. I... I just have so many things to ask--I don't know where to begin! 
Julia: Who are you again?
Julie: I'm Julie Powell, the woman who blogged through your cookbook? Didn't they tell--
Julia: B-log? What in the world is a Bah-lawg?
Julie: Oh, well it's this kind journal thing on the internet--
Julia: Inter-whats?
Julie: Here, let me just show you.

Julie pulls out her laptop. 

Julia: Oh, I have one of those.

Julia pulls out a gigantic beige desktop computer that looks like it's from the early 90s. She squints at the screen and starts hitting random buttons.

Julie: How the fuck--
Julia: Dahhling, just come over here and show me this backlog of yours.
Julie: Oh, uh, blog. Here, you have to turn it on first...

Julie reaches over to assist Julia, who is futzing around with more buttons. It appears as though the computer is steam-powered.

Julia: Well, this isn't impressive at all. It's just a black screen. And seeing how I'm from a different era, it's well-documented that I hate all things bla--
Julie: Errr... okay then! How about we just talk about cooking?
Julia: Now that's something I know. 
Julie: So basically, I cooked my way through your cookbook in a year and wrote about it on the internet.
Julia (gags on the lobster she was munching on): Excuse me, I must have misheard you. You what?
Julie: Cooked all 524 recipes in Mastering the Art of French Cooking in one year.
Julia: I'm sorry dear, but that's impossible.
Julie: No, actually--it wasn't that bad--kind of easy, actually. I mean, after you just fake your way through the aspics and count them as done even though you failed miserably while trying to make them. 
Julia: Well, it does take years of experience and training to get it right.
Julie: Nah, I just kind of gave up--my readers loved it anyways!
Julia: Well that doesn't seem very--
Julie: And I got a book deal out of it!
Julia: It took me years to get my manuscript published...
Julie: I know! Weird, right?
Julia: Right...

A beat of silence.

Julia: I don't know--your bwrog or whatever--if you don't mind me saying, it seems a little derivative of, you know... what I did.
Julie: Oh, really? I don't think so at all. Do you not like it because I use the "F" word every so often?
Julia: What's that? French cooking?
Julie: Uhhh, yeah...
Julia: No, I mean, I just--wouldn't you feel a little uncomfortable if someone took your life's work and basically trivialized it over this "world wide web?"
Julie: I mean, I guess. But what kind of idiot would do that?

Lawrence bursts into the cafe, completely naked, save for a pair of mismatched tube socks.


Julia, overwhelmed by the pure sexual energy that has just flooded the room, has a heart attack and dies right there on the spot.

Julie (doesn't notice): Hey... so, I know we just met, but do you think I could be a bridesmaid in your wedding in 1946?

A beat of silence.

Julie (still doesn't notice): I.. I just feel like we've been communicating over space and time... like on a deep, spiritual, mystical level.

A beat of silence.

Julie (amazingly oblivious): I'm obsessed with you. I'm totally obsessed.

Julie finally notices that Julia hasn't blinked in the past 5 minutes. Julie checks to see if anyone's looking, then leans in and tenderly kisses Julia on the lips.

Lawrence (still naked): Well, that's awkward.


Julie & Julia 
Quote of the Day: "I love you, Julia."


  1. "Julie reaches over to assist Julia, who is preoccupied with futzing around with more buttons. It appears as though the computer is steam-powered."

    My favorite bit. These re-imaginings and story expansions are always great.

  2. I was somehow reminded of the title of the play "The Effect of Gamma Rays on Man-in-the-Moon Marigolds" except in my head it became "The Effect of 'Julie and Julia' on Lawrence Dai's Brain". Streams of consciousness are funny things...

  3. This is almost as good as the erotic story... when are you going to do another one of those?

  4. Great post lol. You should do more like this :) I liked the Julie Powell/Lois Lane one, too.

  5. I think this might be my favorite post yet!

  6. I can't believe nobody's commented yet! This is super wonderful. Well done, sir.

  7. BAHAHA. I love the twist ending.

    The twist being, of course, the appearance of one Mr. Lawrence Dai.


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