Alright, the anniversary is over, you can start reading again! There won’t be any more mushy posts about love and waterfalls for at least six months, maybe even a year because Valentines Day is sort of a non-starter in our household. So don’t worry, we’re good for a while.
At the end of the evening last night we watched Crazy, Stupid, Love which, YES. It was a solid film, funny and delightful but I’m not going to lie, I would have watched it even if the reviews were terrible because I am afflicted with a humiliating fangirl crush on Ryan Gosling wherein I imagine that we meet and he falls in love with me and he and Adam become best friends and both live with me in some sort of brother-husband arrangement which I haven’t quite worked out the logistics of just yet but Ryan, RYAN we’ll sort it out! You can have the bigger bedroom! Oh god don’t tell Adam I said that…just.. we’ll work it out, ok?
ANYWAY. Despite the embarrassing state I find myself in when viewing some good ole RG (we’re tight like that), even I can sit through only so many films where he plays a damaged, or abusive or manipulative man. It was time for some sharp dressing, smooth talking, ladies man Ryan. And AMEN did he deliver.
What surprised me was that the movie even managed to have a twist at the end which I did not see coming and guys, I am the queen of announcing an upcoming twist in a loud bored voice hours before it actually plays out and then throwing my hands up and sighing “Oh goddddd” loudly when it does.
I’m the worst to watch movies with, if I ever I invite you to watch a movie with me and you value our friendship at all don’t do it. It’s not worth the risk. If the movie is shitty I spend the whole time criticizing the dialogue and the strained looks on actors faces as they attempt to emote. If the movie is good I spend the whole time crying or gasping and the then discussing it, rehashing it, dissecting minute plot points for days afterwards.
SO. Crazy, Stupid, Love is +1 in my books. But after watching it I discovered that I have a somewhat bold assertion to make and, look, we’re all friends here right? Because I’m going to go out on a limb and declare Adam and I the poor man’s Ryan Gosling and Emma Stone. Yes, I said it. Wait, WAIT.
I’m not completely delusional, obviously we are missing the talent and the riches and the fame and the IT factor, otherwise we too would be making sexy times on the big screen instead of running a business and heckling teens respectively, BUT here’s my thinking.
Ryan is Canadian, and so is Adam, so, I mean, shared upbringing? Pretty important guys. Body type is similar too, tall, lean, and ok I hear you, Ryan may be a just a teensy tiny bit more, um, ab-y, or “ripped” or “so cut I want to wash my dainties on his stomach” or like whatever, but guys, Adam is like 80% there! And I’d show you if he didn’t threaten to divorce me if I published shirtless photos of him on the Internets.
Also? Both obsessed with their dogs. So. Case closed am I right?
And me? Well I don’t want to brag or anything but just recently I was compared to Emma Stone by no less than two (2!) different people. They were all “You remind me of Emma Stone because you’re so sassy” and, ok, they didn’t mention anything about my looks specifically, because obviously I’m not a red-hot ginger but:
No? You don’t see it? Maybe just a little around the eyes? Or…if she was wearing less makeup, or wait, NO makeup and having a bad hair day and just, generally less attractive overall? No? Still nothing?
Ok well then you must admit that in spirit at least, Adam and I are essentially their characters in Crazy, Stupid, Love. We met in a bar! Who else can say that? Um, we laugh a lot…umm…oh! oh! my parents are divorced! And I mean SURE my Dad was never Adam’s bar hopping protege or anything (that I know of) and Adam didn’t so much “dress well and have fancy things” as he did ” drive a 20 year old dodge grand caravan filled with stinky hockey equipment” but guys, these are mere details.
I don’t know what to say. If I haven’t convinced you already you’re obviously blind. Or sane. You know, whichever.