Tag Archives: ryan reynolds

This (Me!) post is (Me!) all (Me!) about (Me!) blogging…

We in the blogger world love anything that distracts us from actually writing a legit post with substance. For instance, last year someone nominated me for a Versatile Blogger Award, of which the rules were I had to also nominate other bloggers for the award.

And I played along. It’s fun. However, you guys know how inherently lazy I am (*she says typing this while still in yoga pants at 7 p.m. even though she has done nothing even resembling yoga today*). But when a blogger friend comes to you again and says “Answer these questions and then tag 11 other people and write questions for them and then have them answer those questions!” you rise up to the occasion and respond with a hearty “Well, I’ll do the first part…I got 45 minutes to kill before ‘The Office’!”

Because I am, if anything, a reluctant participant in life. (And who knows? I may get around to tagging other bloggers to play later…once I find a break in my VERY busy TV-watching schedule).

So, my dear thesilentsoul, I have answered your questions. Mainly because I like your blog, you are one of three people I don’t actually know who takes the time to read my crap and also, you live in the UK, which makes you, like, 1,000 times cooler than me.

And so, without further ado:

1. If you could have been born at any other time in history when would it have been?

The 1920′s. But only if I was upper-middle class or full-blown rich. Pretty sure that time sucked for everyone else.

2. What’s your ultimate cheery-up thing to do when you’re down?

Drink. But then again, that is also my ultimate thing to do when I’m happy as well. And bored. And Tuesday.

3. If your life was turned into a movie who would you like to see playing the part of you?

When I played this game in college, all my roommates agreed: It should be Eliza Dushku. But if I was picking? Keira Knightley. Because in my head I’m tall, thin and have an awesome British accent.

4. If you could go back in your history and be any age again, which age would you chose and why?

30. The age I am now. God, was I stupid back then.

5. If your entire DVD collection was confiscated, which DVD would you chose to keep?

“Annie Hall” (but I’d stuff the “Star Wars” trilogy in my underwear when the confiscators weren’t looking)

6. What 3 things would you take if you were banished to a desert island for the rest of your life?

  1. The Complete Works of Shakespeare
  2. Wine. Like, a lot.
  3. Ryan Reynolds.

7. What’s the best book you’ve read?

That’d be like picking my favorite child…if, you know, I had children. Which I don’t. But I’m sure when I do I’ll love them the same. Unless one really, really sucks. Usually my favorite book is whatever I am currently reading…unless it really, really sucks.

8. If you were eaten by a shark would you expect someone to hunt the shark down?

My dog Buffy. But mainly because he’d be pissed he was denied that honor himself when I dropped dead and no one found my body for three days.

9. If a genie offered you the choice of a million pounds or a guaranteed healthy and happy life, which would you take?

I’d do something wicked clever that would ensure I got both…which as soon as I figure out, I’ll tell you.

10. What’s you’re favourite pudding?

Figgy. Cause it’s the only pudding cool enough to have a famous song about it.

11. If you could have any animal in the world as a pet (assuming you had as much space as you needed to keep it) what would you choose?

A direwolf. (Goddamn you, George R.R. Martin).

A new year, a new me…at least until Thursday

Sooooo…you may have noticed that I never finished my Christmas countdown. And I have one very good reason:

My family sucks.

Unfortunately, they suck in that functional family way, giving me unconditional love, support and other touchy-feely crap. Awesome if you like to be mentally stable. Horrible if you’re a humor writer. So, when I drove home for Christmas, it was like a Norman Rockwell painting, only with more booze (which actually made it way better than a Norman Rockwell painting). And, come on, no one wants to read about my brother and I playing Uno with grandma, my mom and I “cooking” but really drinking martinis and my husband showering me with affection.

Assholes.

They couldn’t even muster up one single condescending “so, are you ever going to get paid for your writing?” quip or snide ”where the hell are my grandbabies?” comment.

So, I stopped the countdown. But you know what? It’s a new year. Out with the old and in with the snarky. Because I think we can all agree that 2011 was overstaying his welcome, what with all the natural disasters, civil unrest and hogging the remote while eating all our Triscuits.

But now it’s 2012, a bright new shiny year full of wonderful new opportunities and bright new shiny predictions of a fiery and violent end of the world as we know it.

For those of you who haven’t heard because you’ve been too busy fist pumping your brain cells away (I’m assuming this only includes the cast of “Jersey Shore”), the Mayans made this wicked long calendar back in the day and it ends on Dec. 21, 2012, thus making a certain portion of the population believe the Mayans knew the world would end on that date. Personally, I think it’s much more likely the Mayans just decided to blow off the rest of their math homework. But the theory does have some credible evidence behind it. I mean, according to the “official” Dec. 21, 2012 website, both Britney Spears AND Montel Williams are among the supposed celebrity believers, so…yeah…

But, BUT, if it is true, forget the future worries of a horrific death of all living creatures. This brings up a much more immediate concern. For days, I have been trying to come up with my New Year’s resolutions. And I have to tell you, I am downright stumped. I mean, if this is my last year on earth, I’ll be damned if I’m going to spend it getting organized, being nicer to people and finally losing those pesky extra five pounds (OK, fine! 10! Not that it matters. Just more for the apocalypse to love).

For example, if the world is going to end, one of my resolutions is to stop paying my rent and then use the money to go on an exotic trip. By the time the landlord goes through all the proper channels to get me kicked out, we’ll all be dust (as will my rental, actually, thus making rent moot). HOWEVER, if the world does not end, that means I will be homeless.

Likewise, if the world is going to end, I fully intend on eating bacon and drinking Scotch for breakfast every morning. But if Dec. 22 does dawn, that means I’m probably destined to die a painful and disease-riddled death at age 37.

It’s a very delicate balance here. I want to live it up during my last year of existence, but I can’t discount the fact that every single other prediction of the end of the world has been…hmm…how to put this…100 percent wrong. So for days I’ve been stuck weighing the possible repercussions of my potential resolutions. Such as:

Finally buy that pet monkey and name him Winston/Be stuck changing Winston’s diaper for, like, 40 years or however long those wretched creatures live.

Finally tell my high school nemesis how I really feel and how stupid her face is/Spend the rest of my days avoiding her both online and in person.

Stalk, kidnap and force Ryan Reynolds to make out with me on a daily basis/Have a very awkward conversation with my neighbors about how I am now classified as a “sex offender.”

Don’t bother with voting because it won’t really matter or change anything/Don’t bother with voting because it won’t really matter or change anything.

Finally let my husband buy that 72-inch HD plasma flatscreen with pixel-something or other so we can watch the world burn on CNN in crystal clear clarity/Live inside the box the TV came in in some scary alley behind what used to be our house.

Don’t bother buying Christmas gifts for anyone/Be stuck shopping on…(shudder)…Christmas Eve where my chances of being trampled to death inside Kohl’s is fairly high.

Like I said, this year is a particularly difficult year for resolutions. Luckily, if personal history is any indication, I’ll forget and/or give up on all of them soon.

But just in case, Ryan, if you are reading this, you might want to invest in more bodyguards. Soon.

Two guys, a girl and not a DVD to be found

The life of a writer is tough. I mean, after so many months, you run out of movies and TV series on Netflix to distract you from the fact that you should actually be spending your time writing.

Which means you now actually have to write.

And no self-respecting writer actually wants to write.

Hell, most of us just do it because it’s easier than data-entry or flipping burgers.

So, we writers are endlessly looking for other ways to distract ourselves from creating the next Mediocre American Novel. And thanks to the whole 90′s nostalgia wave sweeping the country currently and my “never say die” attitude when it comes to procrastination, I have found a new way.

Why the hell can’t you find ”Two Guys, A Girl and a Pizza Place” on DVD? Or Netflix, for that matter? Or, well, pretty much anywhere?

For those of you that don’t remember the show (or are too young to remember…which, if you are, get the hell off my blog, you make me feel old), “Two Guys, A Girl and A Pizza Place” (which was later changed to “Two Guys and a Girl”…because the TV execs apparently finally realized a TV show title should not resemble a haiku…in length or form) was a show that ran from 1998 to 2001 on ABC. From what my old ass remembers about it, it was a good show, not great, but highly entertaining.

But more IMPORTANTLY, it is the show where not one, but TWO of my imaginary husbands got their start. The sitcom featured both Ryan Reynolds and Nathan Fillion as main characters.

Oh yeah...and that guy on the left that no one can ever remember the name of

I mean, I looked everywhere for this show. To no avail. Even Amazon, which has a page for the “complete DVD set,” has the disclaimer, “when becomes available.” Apparently, whichever company owns the rights to it now doesn’t think it would sell well.

Even the Internet pirates let me down. The only place I could find episodes, besides a few 15 minute, low quality videos on YouTube, was some scary eastern European-ish (or possibly Martian, judging by the language) website, which had the first season, but no dice on the other three (which I’m not linking here for fear the TV gods will go on the war path and take it down).

Now, granted, a lot of my frustration stems from the fact I am of the Internet generation, where we literally can have everything at our fingertips. Any information, any image, any video. So the fact that I can’t have something makes me want to throw a Generation Y-sized tantrum.

And so, I say we Gen Yers and Xers no longer stand for this. We want the crappy, laugh-track sitcoms from our youth and we want them NOW. So let’s flood the Internet with our demand for more Berg! And Sharon! And that guy on the left that no one can ever remember the name of!

It is our instant-gratification, self-entitled RIGHT!

Plus, I think we can all agree the world needs even more scenes of a shirtless Ryan Reynolds.

Nom...

P.S. Between obsessively trying to track down episodes, I did do SOME actual writing. So for you suckers hard-working people with actual jobs that want to waste even more time, you can check out my latest two posts for the Weekly Dig, where I bastardize the Bard’s work after seeing Shakespeare in the Park and get all gangster on a trolley. And, of course, my latest Advocate humor column, where I reveal my brilliant new plan to make new friends based solely on their pop culture preferences (you Next Gen Trekkers are in…Original Series? Hit the road, loser).