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Showing posts with label Stranger things have happened. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Stranger things have happened. Show all posts

Friday, September 18, 2009

Matthew McConaughey* knows I'm alive!

(I just call him Matty, though!)

Dear World-at-Large:
I may have tweeted my love for Dazed & Confused's Wooderson. I may have even tweeted it directly to Matty himself.

Then, this happened:




Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some auburn highlighting work to do on my hair before Matty takes me to that kegger down at the Moon Tower*.






*It could be an imposter, but c'mon! It's probably not. The internet is a very truthful place.

**Where I'll ask him more about the pitfalls of being a movie star in between air breaks from our huge make out sesh***.

***Don't mess with the fantasy.

Friday, December 19, 2008

Famous last words

I'll be back with a new post soon. I've been busy nursing Jeremy back to health. "Both-hands-full" if you know what I'm sayin', and I think you do. In the meantime, here's a little something to hold you over.

***

My sister just wrote about a crazy (or "cruis-azy") shared experience with someone famous, back in his days of uber-coolness. The only thing she forgot to mention is the part about standing in line and discussing what we could be in for:


Her: "How cool would it be if we got to see Mission Impossible 2?"

Me: "Mission Impossible 2 opens in a couple of weeks! Why would they bother with a test screening so close to the actual release date?"



The most frequently asked question I've gotten whenever I tell that story is, "How short IS he?". Since we were a mere few feet away from him, my answer to that question has always been and will always be (regardless of how he comes off these days), "Tom Cruise is the perfect height for hugging", and then I pretend someone has me in a comfortable bear hug. Of course the someone I always picture in that moment is anyone but Tom Cruise.

Click here for the rest of the story.

Tuesday, February 12, 2008

This is all theoretical, of course; it certainly didn't just happen to me.

Let's just say, in theory, that you got home from work a little bit early today; and let's go one further and say that there is a 6' tall snowbank between your parked car and the sidewalk that leads down the path to your door. Assuming that the snowbank was not solid ice, and that the earth has this thing called gravity; at some point during your attempt to go over the pile of snow, your legs probably sank down pretty far, and then you had to pull them out and climb a little higher, sinking down again.

You most likely repeated those actions enough times to eventually get over the top and then you did more of a slide down the back of the snowbank. Your boots are wet, your socks are wet, your pants are water-logged, and unfortunately you're wearing the ones that are longer than they should be; so they're also dragging down the sidewalk all the way to your door; bringing tiny piles of snow and ice along with them.

Since it's windy, and you're already shaking from the low temperature, the first thing you do when you close the front door behind you is to take off your jacket, hat, gloves, sopping wet boots and socks. Then you look down at your pants, which are sticking to your legs as if you went swimming in them, and figure, "I might as well take these off, too"; which you do. Right there in your entryway.

You're standing there, shivering cold, but at least you're no longer wet, and decide to quickly flip through your mail. Then, just as you start a little mini-jog towards your bedroom, where you're to find comfortable, dry clothes to throw on, a man walks out of your bathroom. He's as surprised to see you as you are to see him.

Each of you manages to scream LIKE A GIRL for about 5 seconds, and once you realize you're standing there in nothing but a sweater, in front of one of the maintenance guys, you get it together long enough to push past him and slam your bedroom door, all the while yelling, "What the F%*K, YOU GUYS ARE SUPPOSED TO CALL 24 HOURS BEFORE YOU COME IN HERE!"; and he's stammering apologies, saying "It was marked down that someone DID call, but it must have been an oversight because why would you be half naked if you knew someone was fixing your bathroom sink?", and while you're pulling on some pants you yell back, "You're damned right it was an oversight!"

Then he says he "just finished anyway!", which, because you're delirious, in shock and also because you have the twisted mind of a 15 year old, you misconstrue it, thinking he's trying to be funny by implying something ENTIRELY different by that statement, and you lose your shit completely until you realize he just means he's done with the sink repair.

By the time you open your bedroom door--fully dressed--you're already laughing about the absurdity of the last 15 minutes.

Having quietly stepped over your pile of wet clothes and boots in the entryway, he's already gone.