I would say that I want Emma Stone to play me in the movie of my life, but unfortunately, in order for there to be a movie of my life I probably have to invent some kind of Mind-Twitter or kill someone, frame Joan Collins (and then, out of guilt, make sure she’s set free by leaving a note on a mason jar full of my victim’s blood), then write my own autobiography while living incognito in a lawless nation that wouldn’t want to extradite me to stand trial for my crimes. Neither of those scenarios seems very likely. I mean, I barely even know HTML.

[Photos: Getty]