Archive for crushes

Awkward? Party of One? I Can Seat You Now

Posted in inapropriately long posts with tags , , , , , , , , on July 17, 2009 by thedith

Working at a restaurant has taught me kids come in two forms: the super cute, and the super hateable.

Sometimes, like when a little baby looks up at me, and spontaneously bursts into a huge face crinkling, toothless smile, I like them.  Other times, like when a kid’s  jumping on the seats of the booth shrieking like a God damn banchee; or when they’re sitting in a highchair taring a tomato sauce stained napkin to shreds and then throwing it in the air like confetti; or when they’re wiping their greasy little hands on the windows I just windexed, leaving a revolting streak of sticky film in the shape of an animal paw print hand  upon the once clean surface — at these times, I hate kids.

There is actually a third species of kid: the creepy kind. They’re pretty rare though.  But, when you encounter them, they make it count…

The dinner rush had ended, and my shift was settling nicely back into a nice boring little lull of inactivity.  I reached behind me and grabbed the copy of The Corrections that I had just taken out of the library the other day.  A friend had once told me that it’s a “really riveting book.”  I had somehow managed to drag myself across 160 pages of inanity, and was beginning to question both my friendship with this person, and whether or not a person could actually die of boredom, when I had the strangest sensation I was being watched.  Putting my book down, I craned my head in either direction to catch my peeping tom in action, but all I saw were oblivious dinner patrons scraping away at their meals.  A few tables away, a kid in a booster seat blew a snot bubble.

Still not convinced that I wasn’t being watched, I wearily picked up my book, and continued reading.

“A boy likes me.” A tiny voice bleated.  I ignored it.

“I said, a boy likes me.” This time, the voice tapped on the host desk for extra emphasis.  Leaning over the host stand, I finally made eye-contact with my voyeur.  A tiny girl with giant purple cat-eye framed glasses.  The lenses were so thick, her eyes seemed to take up half her face.

“Excuse me?” I responded.

“A boy.  Likes me.”  She repeated.  She tugged down on her bangs impatiently.


“A boy likes me, and I like him.”

“Sarah? Oh, there you are.” A young frumpled looking woman rushed over to the host stand.  She smiled up at me apologetically.

“Mom, I’m telling her about the boy I like.” Sarah pushed her glasses back on to her face, leaving tiny little smudges on her enormous lenses.

“Huh, huh.”  Her mother laughed nervously, wiping the child’s spagghetti stained face.  Talking about boys with strangers was clearly not polite conversation in this mom’s book.  I decided I liked this kid.

“What’s his name?” I asked, as though this toddler and I were discussing last-night’s hook up over Sunday brunch.

“Um, I don’t know…” Sarah struggled out of her mother’s grip. “Mom, what’s his name? What’s the name of the boy I like?”

“Jonathan.  They just met.” Mom looked up and explained to me. “Honey, you don’t like him, you just met him.”

“No, I like him.  and he likes me.”

“How’d you meet?” I continued to prod.

“Just now.  His mom just became friends with my mom, and then me and — Mom, what’s his name again?”


“Yeah, Jonathan, liked each other.”  Sara clasped her hands breathlessly.

I'm pretty sure this girl's going to be Jennifer Aniston when she grows up

I was pretty impressed by this four-year old’s willingness to be so open about her love life.  I predicted a future full of eye-rolls from friends annoyed by frequent tales of obsessive crushes and uncomfortable bedroom antic overshares. I was also, not a little bit jealous that this little nerd — twenty-years younger than me, had managed to land herself a man while out to dinner with her mom.  This girl was good.

“Jonathan is so nice, and so cute!”

“Wow, that’s exciting.  Do you think you’ll see him again?”

“No!” Mom forcefully interjected.

“No.” Daughter sadly shook her head.

“Oh.” Hostess awkwardly smiled for lack of anything better to do.

Thankfully, at this moment, another frumpled looking woman rushed up to the host stand, saving us from our awkward party.  This mom was carrying a chubby baby, who’s bulbus-head tottered up and down like a bobble-head doll as she jogged.

“Diane, so great to meet you!” Frumple Mom Number Two patted Frumple Mom Number One’s shoulder.

“Oh, I know, you too!”

Frumple Mom Number Two set Bulbus Head on the chair next to her.  Lacking any real coordination (he was after all, a baby) he flopped into an upright position next to her.  Meanwhile, Sarah had shyly crawled up onto the couch next to him.  She stroked his platinum curls lovingly.  Then, tentatively at first, she put her head on his shoulder.  She smiled up at him.  Confused, Bulbus Head stared down at her.  Confused, I stared at Sarah too.

OhmyGod, is this kid in love with a baby?

Sarah nuzzled the baby’s neck with her nose and kissed his ear.  Gone were my visions of an adorable little girl in adorable puppy love, and here to stay was the realization that this kid was a pedophile in the making.  Sure, it’s unfair to call a four-year-old a pedophile; I mean she’s just a kid, and with any luck she’ll avoid a life of pedophilia and grow into a first-rate Cougar someday, but,  right now? Homegirl was kiiiind of creeping me out.

Shuddering, I picked up my boring book, excited to grab on to anything to erase that creepy kid from my memory.

When Crushing Goes Too Far

Posted in celebrities, experiments, extremely creepy with tags , , , , , , , , on July 15, 2009 by melsanie

Remember how I said that you should leave crushes as crushes?  Well, I kind of disregarding my own advice when my co-worker pointed me to this new feature on the Volkswagen site to make your own baby without actually “making” one.  These are pretty well known, but you use a picture of yourself and anyone else to see what your spawn would look like.  Of course, I used this amazing tool to see what my future children with my crushes would look like.  Results were mixed, but mostly adorable, which makes my crushes even more crazy because now I know how what our children will look like running around our back yard blowing bubbles and giggling…yeah…

Moral of the Story:  Crushing leads to being a crazy lady.

[UPDATE: Moral #2: I’m a creeper.]

Jack - My baby with Chris Pine

Jack - My baby with Chris Pine

Ollie - My baby with Rupert Grint

Ollie - My baby with Rupert Grint

Taylor - My (somehow black child) with Robert Pattinson

Taylor - My (somehow black child) with Robert Pattinson

Daniel  - My (more accurate looking) baby with Robert Pattinson

Daniel - My (more accurate looking) baby with Robert Pattinson

To Crush or Not to Crush on Zac Efron

Posted in deep thoughts, hot boys, objectifying guys and i'm ok with it, you should like this with tags , , , , , , , on April 13, 2009 by melsanie

Those eyes, that highlighted hair, that knowing smile. Swooooon.

So, for some inexplicable reason I love Zac Efron. Is it the smile? The greasy, yet sexy hair in his face? The piercing blue eyes? I really have no idea. What’s odd is that I am in no way attracted to him and yet the sight of him makes me go all giggly and smiley, which, quite frankly, really freaks me out. (I mean, he’s skinny, has a kind of high voice and is kind of feminine.)

My sister-in-law believes I’m having a “gay man” moment. Meredith seems to think that he’s “who the 15 year old mel wanted to date”, which is possible, I mean, I was all about Justin Timberlake back in the day AND JT used to have some pretty wack hair, so…maybe there’s a trend? Oh, and also, JT has been on SNL many times and killed it (but he needs to take a break because he’s almost overstaying his welcome but I’m kind of ok with it because he’s cute, seems to have a sense of humor, and, well, is JT). Anway, Zefron was on this weekend and was actually pretty funny, which means he’ll probably be on a few more times in the future. Oh, what wonders The Disney Channel creates. Anyway, I’m willing to put aside all contradictory feelings in honor of Zefron’s upcoming movie, 17 Again.

True or false: When I’m in a bad or sad mood, I watch this preview and my mood is instantly lifted. TRUE. Sure, the premise is kind of dated and predictable, but how FUN does this movie look? I imagine laughing a lot–aaand probably hiding in my sweatshirt from the second hand embarassment of Zefron trying to have “fatherly” moments with Georgina. But I mean, come on. The scene where Zefron gets out of the car, throws on a leather coat over a white t-shirt and jeans, and then casually locks the door over his shoulder? OH MA GOSH. Yes, I realize I’m acting like a lunatic tween, which is one of the reasons why I’m so perplexed over this crush, but I’ll get over it for a few days since I will be seeing 17 Again this weekend and I will be one of many girls squealing as soon as Zefron comes on screen. Sigh.

If my rather long post hasn’t convinced you of Zefron’s awesomeness, please see my completely unbiased and well thought out lists of my thoughts on 17 Again.

Reasons why 17 Again may be a flop:

  1. The really lame and awkward “Oh my gosh I love my family and I regret who I used to be” moments that have to happen
  2. Matthew Perry looks old, which makes me sad
  3. The lack of make-out scenes

Reasons why 17 Again is going to be AWESOME:

  1. Zefron in an ironic trucker hat
  2. The dude from Reno 911 is in it and he’s freaking hilarious
  3. I have a major girl crush on Leslie Mann and she makes everything funny
  4. I saw a glimmer of a song and dance number a la High School Musical 1-3
  5. Zefron shirtless
  6. All the funny parts in the trailer will STILL BE FUNNY if not FUNNIER in the actual movie