Jennifer Aniston Is Dead
I played the brakes and gas, and as soon as the light turned green I let go of the brake.
Yup, this is a true story, and that was almost the headline six years ago when Dave, a friend from North Carolina, came to spend the weekend in New York with me.
His only request was "to see everything in _Home Alone."_ So there we were in the middle of NYC, at a traffic light between two large trucks. Dave in the back, Terry in the front, and me behind the wheel of my powerful new Mustang GT.
I played the brakes and gas, and as soon as the light turned green I let go of the brake. The tires squealed, and I heard Dave yell, "Hey, there's Jennifer Aniston!" The spinning tires gave me just enough time to let go of the gas, since my brain had already told my foot, "Floor it!"
Jen and her huge bodyguard casually strolled past me to the sidewalk while I tried to get my heartbeat back below 200. I'm an aspiring screenwriter, and it would've sucked to go down in history as the guy who killed Jennifer Aniston. She has no idea how close she came.