So, the other day in the grocery store, the two people in front of me were listing their celebrity crushes. Ewan McGregor; Kate Winslet; Colin Farrell; Colin Firth; John Stamos; Emily Mortimer; people I’d never heard of and therefore can’t remember; the list went on and on. So I gave it some thought, and came to a conclusion about myself. Now, some of my friends are going to blow their drinks out of their noses when they read this, but nonetheless, here’s the conclusion: I don’t have celebrity crushes. (Just hold on, friends, because there’s a second part to this, with which I will regain your trust:) I have character crushes. HUGE difference.
Take Jared Leto, for example. I don’t really know much about Jared Leto, I’m pretty much indifferent to him, and in fact, I’d rather eat a moldy grape than watch Requiem for a Dream ever again.
But Jordan Catalano? I know and love Jordan Catalano — I went to high school with Jordan Catalano — maybe you do/did, too. Admittedly, he’s kind of inarticulate and he doesn’t have a very broad worldview. And he can’t read. But it’s not his fault, and he’s working on it, and he has a really big heart. Besides, don’t you just love the way he leans?
But Jordan Catalano? I know and love Jordan Catalano — I went to high school with Jordan Catalano — maybe you do/did, too. Admittedly, he’s kind of inarticulate and he doesn’t have a very broad worldview. And he can’t read. But it’s not his fault, and he’s working on it, and he has a really big heart. Besides, don’t you just love the way he leans?
Next up in this scientific analysis: Matt Damon. I like his hometown. I’m all for a good peace sign now and then. I like that he lives in Florida now, so that together he, I, Cordelia, Joe, our various friends, and a whole lot of newly registered voters can turn this state blue in November. Oh, and I LOVED the Will and Grace episode called “A Chorus Lie” in which he plays Owen, a straight guy pretending to be a gay guy because he wants to win a spot on the gay chorus. Owen knows it’s wrong to lie, but he can’t help himself: he loves to sing. Oh, and I liked Linus in the Ocean’s movies, and I liked Good Will Hunting, and the Talented Mr. Ripley. Matt Damon does some good work. BUT, I don’t have a crush on Matt Damon (or Owen, or Linus, or Will, or Mr. R., for that matter). My love is reserved for Jason Bourne.
Granted, Jason Bourne would make an even worse boyfriend than Jordan Catalano, what with the psychosis and everyone trying to kill him all the time, but I’m not exactly going for reality here, so who cares.
Granted, Jason Bourne would make an even worse boyfriend than Jordan Catalano, what with the psychosis and everyone trying to kill him all the time, but I’m not exactly going for reality here, so who cares.Really, the problem with being Jason Bourne’s girlfriend is the equality issue. Who wants a boyfriend who’s better than you at everything — everything — except maybe sanity, social adjustment, and the ability to reminisce fondly over old memories? You’d be so pathetic and irrelevant — nothing more than his female appendage, existing only to round out his character. It’d be a little like being Batman’s girlfriend. He’d always be rescuing you and you’d always have to be his therapist and you’d always be the pawn the bad guys used to get at him and you’d probably die. You’d be such the girlfriend, in the true movie sense of the world. *shudder* No thanks.
Which is why it’s time to move on to Karl Urban — who, come to think of it, once played one of those bad guys who was trying to kill Jason Bourne. In fact, this isn’t why I bring him up, but didn’t Karl Urban play the very guy who killed Jason Bourne’s long-suffering girlfriend? It sure is a small world.
But my point is, no doubt Karl Urban is a lovely person with interesting stories, and I’ve always wanted to visit New Zealand (which is where he’s from), and he has a beautiful speaking voice, but beyond that, I don’t know anything about Mr. U, and I’m indifferent. It’s Eomer who is my husband.
And believe you me, in this little match-up, I would never be just the wife. I could be the Queen of Rohan, no problem, and let me tell you, a few things would change around that place. Eomer wouldn’t know what hit him. “War is the province of men,” my ass. Got anything else clever to say, Eomer?
And believe you me, in this little match-up, I would never be just the wife. I could be the Queen of Rohan, no problem, and let me tell you, a few things would change around that place. Eomer wouldn’t know what hit him. “War is the province of men,” my ass. Got anything else clever to say, Eomer?
Oh, scowling at me, are you? Wait ’til you see my scowl. I’ll scowl that pointy helmet right off your head. I’ll scowl you off that horse. Sure, you’re all big and strong and stoic and good at throwing lances at monster-like creatures, but I bet if I kicked you really hard in the shins, you’d whimper.
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It having just occurred to me that I have been yelling at a fictional character in public on my blog and referring to him as my husband, I am going to change the subject abruptly now, pretend that I am normal, and scamper off.
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So, are you all registered to vote? Have those of you who are not old enough to vote convinced any old people to register to vote? Isn’t voting the coolest?
*runs away*
