…in other words, what I’d like to do to commemorate my last day here at the OK Corral. Since my adolescent gym teachers shamed me for my inability to tumble, therefore ripping that desire out of me for the rest of my days, here’s this instead.
Happy last day to me!
And happy Wednesday to you, dear reader…
This is Daniel Sunjata. He’s an actor. This Wednesday is all his.
Many years ago, a friend of mine clipped his photo from a magazine and presented it to me, declaring that upon seeing his face, she just knew that said face would make me happy. She wasn’t wrong. At the time, I had no idea who he was. But I won’t comment on how long I kept that photo. Note that it was wallet-sized. We’ll move on.
You’ve seen him in The Devil Wears Prada, countless episodes of my beloved Law and Order, so on and so forth. He’s also a theater guy.
Be still. My beating heart.
As a singleton, invariably, 1) I’m offered someone’s murderous son/nephew/cousin/friend/random guy on the street as a potential marriage partner, and 2) I receive plenty of tips and advice about my future marriage. Here are a few of my favorites, along with a bit of commentary.
A good marriage consists of two forgivers. I’ve heard this more than once, and I like it. To me, it means that I can forgive him for forgetting that I occupy our home when a game is on and he can forgive me for reacting…melodramatically. (Think screaming “you obviously don’t love me” from our upstairs balcony.)
Marriage isn’t 50/50. It’s 100/100. Another good one. I may be functioning at a third-grade level when it comes to Math and numbers, but this is clear: he will 100 percent buy me pretty presents and I will 100 percent love him for it.
The first year is the hardest; it can make you or break you. My mother said this to me. I believe her. I mean, yes, I imagined Idris and I just swimming in sunshine and roses that first year, but I don’t doubt that there will be some growing pains: what to name our yacht, pestering him to leave the outgoing message on my cell phone, reminding him about our weekly galas in the city (he can be so forgetful)…
Never go to bed angry. True. But what about infuriated, incensed, and/or enraged?
All humor intended.
I’m in love with Sherlock Holmes because of him. If you haven’t watched his incredible rendering of Sherlock…your reasons better be good. Like living in a cave and/or not owning a television good.
Here sits Benedict Cumberbatch: all those letters in his name, those eyes, that voice (go to YouTube and listen!)…
I saw him in real life in October of last year, having stumbled upon the premiere of Black Mass in Leicester Square during my first evening in London. I took about 70 pictures and at least two videos of him.
I’ll end there.
Call me a polygamist if you like, but here it is: my heart doesn’t solely belong to Idris. A heart can hold many rooms. So can an Italian villa. Anyway.
This is Michael Fassbender.
The hook, line, and sinker happened when he portrayed Edward Fairfax Rochester in the 2011 adaptation of Jane Eyre. I saw it more than once in the movie theater. I saw it more than three times in the movie theater. I’ll stop here.
Happy Wednesday, dear readers.
If you love Fassy as much as I do, I can share, I guess.
Have we met before?
Only in my dreams, you say?
I suppose you’re right. Maybe we can discuss turning those dreams into reality? That villa in Italy won’t be the same without you. (By the way, you’re buying us a villa in Italy.)
Happy Wednesday, party people. He’s mine.
Onwards and upwards…
Am I the only person who chooses to greet the day with this face?
(I’m OK with that.)
Happy Wednesday, party people. Onwards and upwards…
Being typically alone when I’m out and about and being of the mind that strangers who begin conversations with me must want to harvest my sweet kidneys, I am appreciative of scaring them off this way. Nothing like dissuading small talk by pretending you’re cray.
Happy Wednesday, party people…