I was in the lobby about to see a show when a woman walked up and asked:

"Are you Giavanni?"

"What?"

"Are you Giavanni?"

"No."

I wish I would have said yes.

I could have created a fake Giavanni accent and acted all smelly and European.

I just had this conversation with my mom:

"We might go to New Hampshire instead of New York. Parents like to see where their children live, but I don’t think I’ll like New York with the walking."

"Alan (my brother) took pictures of my apartment when he was here. He can show you my place."

"Ok. Maybe he can make me some extra prints."

"Prints? Mom, if you would get email, he could email them to you right now."

"I know. Maybe email’s something I can get for my next birthday."

Oh, mom. 

All hustle, no bustle.

The following is from the first chapter which is titled: "The Pain of a Child":

"Was he really a famous comedian, enjoying the limelight? Or was he still a frightened young boy, sitting in a dark room?" 

I’m gonna have to go with comedian on this one. 

Baron Wasteland

A blue 1966 Ford Mustang convertible? Cool.

A blue 1966 Ford Mustang convertible blasting The Beach Boys? A little over the top. 

I’m trying to reinvent the wheel.

Why? Because everyone says let’s not.

If you want to spice up a sentence, just throw in the word "sexy".
Here are two phrases that I’m about to start using:

"I’m gonna get to the sexy bottom of that."

"That’s just the tip of the sexy iceberg."

EXT. CORNER OF 14th STREET AND 4th AVE. – DAY

A woman is walking along 14th Street toward 4th Ave. She is yelling across 14th Street at someone we can’t see.

Woman: (Yelling) What’s up, punk?! What’s up, punk?! What’s up, punk?! What’s up, punk?! (Speaking softly, almost to herself) Yeah, you old punk ass.