Right On

Watching Owen Wilson on The Daily Show yesterday, I was overcome by the usual swooniness. I don’t really fancy him for his appearance; not that he’s a bad-looking chap, but I don’t usually go in for blonds. There’s just something about his personality that I dig.

Last night, I was suddenly struck by something else, though. I really like the way he talks. It’s so uncannily familiar, I thought. That mix of sort of slurred mellow stoner and Valley Girl, all delivered in a flat nasal monotone, with even the most declarative statements rising as questions. My conscience informed me, Yeesh, you bloody narcissist. That’s exactly how you talk.

Was that right? I turned to Mr. Shakes. “Do you think Owen Wilson and I talk alike?”

“Tootally!” was the dreaded reply.

So, okay, I talk like Owen Wilson. And Luke Wilson, too, who sounds just like his brother. Mannion thinks I sound like Janeane Garofalo. And Mr. Furious has always told me I sound like Janice from Dr. Teeth and the Electric Mayhem. I do. I sound like all of them, and they all sound like me.

Right on, my drolly drawling brothers and sisters.