This is not a drill! Please drop everything and make your way to the PetSmart store in north-eastern Vancouver. I repeat this is not a drill! What you’ll find when you reach the designated assembly point is a drill, however – The Big Drill Bit!
Don’t ask me why a pet shop has a gargantuan gimlet out the front. The Canadians are a quirky bunch who shirk cultural norms, so I guess it makes sense to them. There’s probably a hardware shop somewhere with a big dog out the front. That’s just how they roll.
Putting a new twist on urban art, the Big Drill is the centrepiece of a shopping complex designed to reinvigorate a run-down corner of the city – much as the Tin Soldier has done in New Westminster. The designers had wanted to feature the complete power drill, but couldn’t find an extension cord long enough.
The Big Drill Bit lives amongst some overgrown hedges by a busy road, and it’s not uncommon to see revheads tooling around in front of it. An afternoon with this silver fox is a drill-a-minute experience, and certainly not boring!
Screw, Me and Dupree
Draping myself around the Big Drill Bit’s voluptuous curves for an erotic selfie, I noticed a slender figure with a mop of shaggy blonde hair heading my way. At first I thought it was my old chum Ellen DeGeneres, whose Emmy Award-winning daytime chat show I’d been a recurring guest of for several years.
Once I saw the crooked nose and effeminate mannerisms, however, I realised it wasn’t Ellen DeGeneres at all.
“Hey, guy, you know what this reminds me of? The comedy classic Drillbit Taylor,” the character ranted. “Highly underrated movie with a standout performance by… gosh darn it, what was his name? Handsome man, exceptional actor.”
“Owen Wilson?”
“Owen Wilson, that’s right! Geez, how could I forget Owen Wilson? He’s been in a range of blockbusters such as Zoolander and Wedding Crashers, as well as the critically-acclaimed arthouse films Midnight in Paris and The Royal Tenenbaums. That just goes to show that, not only is Owen a bankable star, but he also possesses the emotional range and comic timing to rank him amongst the greatest actors of his generation.”
I rolled my eyes, realising that my relaxing afternoon with The Big Drill Bit had come to a premature end. “You’re Owen Wilson, aren’t you?”
“Yes sir, I am.”
“And you hang out by the Big Drill Bit so that you can remind people that you were in the forgettable 2008 film Drillbit Taylor?”
“Correctamundo, and that ‘forgettable film’ earned $49.7 million at the box office.”
“Against a production budget of $40 million, Owen, meaning it was both a commercial and critical failure. Twenty-seven percentage fresh rating on Rotten Tomatoes, if I’m not mistaken.”
“Twenty-six, but Rotten Tomatoes is notoriously inaccurate for movies predating its ascent into the cultural zeitgeist.”
“I have a feeling it’s quite accurate in this instance, Owen.”
Drillbit Failure
Owen Wilson’s obsession with Drillbit Taylor didn’t make for riveting conversation, so I packed up my camera gear as a gentle prompt for him to leave. He may be a charming actor, but Owen Wilson obviously struggles to read social cues, as he just kept on blabbering.
“So, I was thinking I could play you, the inimitable Bigs Bardot, in the film adaptation of Land of the Bigs.”
“Owen, please, you’re embarrassing yourself,” I sighed “You know that Channing Tatum has already been cast.”
Owen Wilson’s shoulders slumped, and he buried his face within the Big Drill Bit’s killer curves so that I wouldn’t see the tears in his aquamarine eyes.
“Maybe I could play the role of Owen Wilson in the part where you visit the Big Drillbit.”
“Again, Owen, you know that role has already been filled by your more talented sibling.”
“Rebel Wilson?”
“Yes, Rebel Wilson.”
Oh, Mr Wilson!
The sight of Owen Wilson weeping openly by the side of a highway on a wet Canadian afternoon will haunt me until my final days. He was just a handsome, multi-millionaire playboy trying to make it through this harsh world, and my heart went out to him.
Cradling Owen in my brawny arms, I brushed his blond mop out of his eyes and planted a reassuring kiss on his forehead.
“You know, Owen,” I said against my better judgement, “we haven’t cast anyone to play the Big Potato yet.”
“Bigs, Owen Wilson gasped, rising to his feet and thrusting lewdly towards the traffic, “this will be the best $20 million you ever spent.
“Settle down, Owen, we’re not even paying Leonardo DiCaprio that much to play the World’s Biggest Rolling Pin.”
“Have your people talk to my people, baby. Now Bigs, I’d love to stand here all day talking about my illustrious career, but I have to go to the DVD launch of my latest heartwarming romantic comedy.”
“Marry Me?”
“Well, we’ve just met, but gosh darn, let’s do it!”
And that, dear reader, is the story of my brief-yet-tumultuous marriage to Hollywood bad boy Owen Wilson.
