Okay Fink, let's chow.
Walking my doggie just now, I met the guy who bought a neat little white house that had been for sale for a while. He was cleaning up his yard, wearing a knit cap. But I swear, he was a spitting image of John Turturro. I almost asked him, but I couldn't remember his last name, so I would have just blurted out, "Are you that guy from Barton Fink?" I'm sure, if it is him, he's tired of hearing that.
Instead, since Una was sniffing him through the fence, I said, "Hi. Don't worry; she's nice." He smiled.
Of course, it's not impossible, but it's probably not him. There are a LOT of Philadelphians -- and I mean a lot -- who look like John Turturro.
Instead, since Una was sniffing him through the fence, I said, "Hi. Don't worry; she's nice." He smiled.
Of course, it's not impossible, but it's probably not him. There are a LOT of Philadelphians -- and I mean a lot -- who look like John Turturro.