Velociworld

I might be good as the submarine sailor who freaks out while the boat is resting silently on the sea floor while the bad guys are dropping depth charges.

Im sure Id be good as the mildly retarded but loveable guy that killed his family with a lawnmower blade then went on to win Bear Bryant a championship.Is that cliche?

I'm the pissy bitch secretary that makes you wait to see her high-powered boss...oh wait...that's reality...

Sorry, but I want to be Barbara Stanwyck.
I'm vain.
And I look NOTHING like the woman.
Just admire her balls.

I'd be the well-meaning but annoying wisecracking dork in the cubicle next to the heroine, who's obviously smitten with her but way too self-conscious to move on it. In the office battle scene I throw my stapler at her assailant in a brave but futile attempt to distract him.

My valiant effort ensures that before the credits roll I get the chubby secretary as a consolation prize.

I would be good at being the guy in the red shirt (star trek expendable unknown name and face guy).

Studiously learning my duties for 20 years just to drilled by a Klingon who has stolen Kirks phaser set on "bust a cap in his ass setting"

Then looking at the camera and saying.. WTF???

Ha ha. still laughing at myself...
HA HA HA HA>> ugggghhhhh...............

I would be the comic character that is the butt of the joke for a more clever comic character - Daffy Duck, Wile E. Coyote, Sylvester ...

I would be good as the evil dude who sneaks up to the roof of the cowtown saloon looking out over the street, and just as I take a bead on Our Hero with my trusty Winchester, he quick draws his Colt and plugs me fair and square. I take about three seconds to stand up, die, and pitch headfirst into the street below.

Guaranteed lifelong employment.

The Lynch-Pin commenter. The forgettable face in a seemingly unimportant interchange that moves the story along, but who utters the tell-tale secret of the miserable little podunk town you've found yourself haplessly tangled in. The whole success of the movie depends on my 10 sentences and then I fade away to become a bit of trivia.

I'll tell you who I *wouldn't* be...that hysterical chick who always runs UPstairs, instead of OUT of the house when the monster shows up.

V-man, thanks for the mental exercise!

Mike, you just described MY role! I would no doubt end up as some sort of wire coat-hanger kabob in the master bedroom closet.

Barbara Stanwyck had balls? So that's why her voice was so deep.......

I'd be the pizza delivery guy who always walked in on a giant lesbo orgy just as they were feeling generous.

I'd be the grizzled ol' prospector who finally finds the mother load up on the mountain and is shot by the greedy lawyer he hires to file his claim.

I'm noticing no one is copping to Ned Beatty's role as Bobby...

Always felt kinda sorry for Ned Beatty. A decent, hard-working actor who had a long and successful career, and all he'll forever be known for is squealing like a pig on command. Like the old joke: "Man, I suck one lousy cock and suddenly I'm branded for life."

"Git them panties off, boy, git 'em right off." *cringe*

I would be that one young soldier (or Marine) who shares in confidence with his partner in the foxhole, about whether or not he is going to make it out of "this war alive". Usually tied in with a feeling of unsubstantiated dread, a premonition "there is a bullet out there with his name on it."

And usually right after that speech, is when "bang", you get it either right in the chest or the head.

And if I can't be the aforementioned Soldier or Marine, could I be either one of Rita Hayworth's stockings in "Gilda""?

I'd have to be the crabby old bastard who yelled at the kids to get off his lawn.

I'd be Mr. Smith during his second, wiser, and more bitter term in Congress.

or

As one of two girls at a slumber party who is confronted by a demon/monster/slasher, I push the other girl forward and then run in the opposite direction.

.... I'd be the guy at the end of the bar nursing a scotch.... who kept moving his eyes from his wrist watch, the door, and back to his drink...

I'm gonna be the guy in the next stall, taking a loud and obnoxious dump.

Wait, I AM that guy.

I'm the guy in the bar scene who tries to intervene in the alien-in-human-form-trying-to-grab-the-heroine, who then goes all alien on my ass, resumes alien form (ten feet tall and all green and slimy), reaches down my throat and pulls out my skeleton, leaving a deboned Patrick-skin on the floor.

I think I've had too much rum this weekend.

I wanna be the prospector with his burro or the whiskey drummer in his wagon in the middle of nowhere in those 30s-40s B & W westerns made in Calif just outside LA where the posse comes roaring up, screeches to a halt, and the Sheriff asks: "Which way'd he go?" and I ans by extending my arm, pointing, and exclaiming one of the most famous movie lines of dialog in history: "He went thatta way, Sheriff!"

I'd be the drunk in the alley minding his own business AND taking a piss, when the bad guys/monster/good guys start their 'action-sequence'- That IS a cliche character in a movie, right?

The magic negro is my choice. Big and musclebound, kinda like the one in The Green Mile.
Dumb, but willing and completely charmed by white people ballroom dancing.

The bartender with the towel over his shoulder who points to the back room door with his thumb when you ask if "Louie" is in.

Would be good at? I AM Wile E. Coyote and I have the scars to prove it.

I'll be the guy who's entire dialogue consists of the Wilhelm Scream.

Not just once or twice, either. All through the damned movie. "Hey buddy, you got the time?"
"Aaaauiiiyeieeeeugh!!!!"

"Can you direct me to the fine art museum?"
"Aaaauiiiyeieeeeugh!!!!"

"Do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?"
"Aaaauiiiyeieeeeugh!!!!"

God, I'd so like to have that filthy scrap of 60 year old audio tape excised from film forever...

I'd be the non-descript fat-guy lying on the hospital gurney who's face you never see as the Doctor/Nurse/Paramedic/Whomever yells "CLEAR!!!" as they send a couple kilovolts of electricity into his chest and you watch him jump a couple inches off the gurney as his fat bounces around like perfectly mixed Jello.

Yessir, I could PLAY that part!!!

.

I am the casting director, and you are all out, out, OUT. Every role gets filled by a cheerleader or Hooters girl. Period.

Of course, I choose to be Elvis Presley in "Follow that Dream".
And I do live not far from the setting, just inside the Florida State Line!

Innocent bystander. One who witnessed the whole crime but the police just keep shoving me out of the way and telling me to get lost so I never get to give my statement. That happens to me in real life too.

I'd be the guy who stood offstage at the strip club with bra's, etc. on his head who when asked why he didn't quit said "What, and give up show business?"

I was going to go for the Pizza Delivery Guy in the porn flicks - you know, the one who ends up binging the chicks with the Great Big Kalamatunis when they can't pay for the pizza - but skippystalin beat me to it.

So I guess I'll settle for the Scientist Who Chews the Left Earpiece of His Spectacles Whilst Making Pronouncements of Great Gravitas: "When that cometary nucleus lands in the mid-Atlantic... (pregnant pause)... life on Earth as we know it will end!"

... you do have to admit, though..... that last sentence?.... it was pure Acidman........

I am most definitly the waitress named Naomi in the movie "Waiting".

The psycho right wing gun runner/ arms dealer
who is planning to take over a small south American country.

The ex boyfriend who realizes too late that she is wonderful, doomed to spend the rest of his life married to Pelosi

I'd also be a great corpse. I have the kind of body that would only ever look maginficent on an autopsy table.

If you dump me on the ground of any pretend crime scene and we're good to go.

Some guy in Plan 9 From Outer Space.

The gruff but lovable old coot in the cabin up in the woods.

I'll be the guy who grabs the microphone and begins speaking, making the sound system shriek with feedback.

Or...maybe I'm the John with the whore caught with his pants down when the homicide detectives arrive to question her about a vicious killing. They allow me to slink off, still trying to zip up, because their business is much more important than a little vice.