Recently there's been a notable twist in action movies: a string of much-hyped, booty-whupping female heroines in high-budget, high-concept, lowest-common-denominator fare such as Charlie's Angels and Tomb Raider. These hot martial-arts mamas provide Hollywood a way to get points for creating "strong female characters" whose main qualifications are the same ones they share with the weak, stupid bimbos of old--their looks. After all, is a skintight leather jumpsuit with thigh-high, spiked-heel boots really the most practical outfit for kickboxing a five-headed demon? Not the five-headed demons I know.

Not to say that Angelina Jolie doesn't make a great Lara Croft. And the makers of Tomb Raider have performed a valuable public service: By forcing one of the most beautiful women in the world to pad her chest, they've succeeded in making a gorgeous movie star feel as inadequate as the rest of us.

Although I admit that I'm as far away in appearance from Ms. Jolie as one can get (and I'm not complaining, mind you, since this way I don't have to worry that when I'm asleep my giant lips will eat my face), I still find myself with the unexpected longing to be the subject of a Big Hollywood Blockbuster that burns through the international multiplex circuit, rather than the star of another cheesy made-for-TV movie with credits that keep getting viciously squished to the side of the screen.

Yet I realize that I need a top-to-bottom retooling of my image if I wish to inspire the creation of 90 minutes of flashy, brainless, quick-cutting dreck--excuse, me, I mean a nonstop roller-coaster ride of thrills and eye-popping excitement--that would comprise a big budget, live-action-with-expensive-SFX version of Daria. Not to worry. I've come up with a few ways I plan to change my life in order to attract the Hollywood mega-hit machine:

1. Slip a cursed Egyptian artifact into my sister's jewelry box.

2. Decide that my next science project will be the creation of a deadly, flesh-eating virus. Then save the world from certain doom by procrastinating so much that I end up sprouting lima beans on a wet napkin.

3. Take the school bus on a kinetic, death-defying chase from one end of the parking lot to the other.

4. Hang precariously by my fingertips from the first-floor living room window.

5. Climb the ropes in gym class while scantily clad in shiny black outfit that looks like it's gone through Ms. Li's paper shredder. Better yet, pose pouting in outfit while others climb the ropes.

6. Confront my evil doppelgänger in the girls' room mirror. Oh wait, that's just Quinn.

7. Discover that Tom is actually a nuclear-powered cyborg, disguised as a superhuman replica, bent on collapsing time and knocking the earth out of its orbit. Finally, the guy does something interesting.

8. Convince Mom and Dad to let us redecorate the house so that it resembles a crumbling mansion with a forgotten crypt in the basement. Rescue Dad when he locks himself in crypt.

9. Confront a secret coven of evil, soul-sucking vampires. Oops, Quinn again. Stupid Fashion Club meeting.

10. In Matrix-like fashion, ponder whether life is actually an illusion and imagine the true reality for a whopping three seconds before abandoning the question for a game of hopscotch between skyscrapers.

Now all that remains is the creation of a catchy marketing slogan. Hmm… how's this? "I don't have low self-esteem. I'm gonna kick your ass!"

I'm a genius. See you at the movies…

Daria