It just doesn't get any sweeter than Jimmy Stewart. He's like a warm oatmeal raisin cookie with a cold glass of milk. I've never felt compelled to hug someone so strongly as when I watch him on screen. And, I'm not gonna lie, I had tears in my eyes during the final scene of Mr. Smith Goes to Washington. I wish he was my baby-sitter. I wish he was my older brother. I wish he was my husband when I'm eighty-five and sitting in my rocking chair on the front porch watching the fireflies come out during a June sunset in Georgia. Ah, Jimmy. I loves ya.
Saturday, February 23, 2008
gee, what a nice fellow.
It just doesn't get any sweeter than Jimmy Stewart. He's like a warm oatmeal raisin cookie with a cold glass of milk. I've never felt compelled to hug someone so strongly as when I watch him on screen. And, I'm not gonna lie, I had tears in my eyes during the final scene of Mr. Smith Goes to Washington. I wish he was my baby-sitter. I wish he was my older brother. I wish he was my husband when I'm eighty-five and sitting in my rocking chair on the front porch watching the fireflies come out during a June sunset in Georgia. Ah, Jimmy. I loves ya.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment