Oh, Evan Rachel Wood

August 15, 2007 at 9:15 am 4 comments

If you have not read all about this poor 19-year-old girl who thinks she is in love with Marilyn Manson, please, for the love of God, read this, and have a good laugh.

Then, go here, and try not to become paralyzed with embarrassment on behalf of sweet, delusional Evan Rachel, who is making the biggest I-Was-19-and-It-Seemed-Like-a-Good-Idea-at-the-Time mistake IN THE HISTORY OF WOMANKIND.

Because, oh, she is so 19-years-old in that People article that it hurts my heart – what with the “kissing while it was raining blood was SO romantic! Squeeee!” and the “oh, we’re just a boring old normal healthy couple, and one of us just happens to look like a vampire.” Sister, those words are going to come back to haunt you in SUCH a big way, I almost cannot bear to think about it.

After all, I’ve been there. I dated some…unusual guys in college, and often my reasons for dating them were no better than “He has a car and can take me to that nice Taco Bell off-campus,” or “He has a forty of Little Kings in his dorm fridge that he said I could have,” or – my personal fave – “he cried when I said we should just be friends.” So, yeah. I’ve been there. Not proud of that. But it happens, because I was 19, and therefore: stupid.

Case in point (which is making me cringe already): So, this one time? When I was 19? I got really really reeeeeally drunk off of box wine and broke down in complete hysterics at a party because I had just gotten dumped by some frat guy. As my devoted friend Deez was dragging my sorry ass back to our dorm room, this guy – who apparently had a fetish for weeping, red-eyed, runny-nosed hysterical girls who reek of white zinfandel – stopped us and creepily asked for my number. And I…oh, Lord…I GAVE IT TO HIM in a state of drunken self-pity, despite the protests of poor, put-upon Deez. And because I am now so embarrassed that I’m finding it hard to breathe, I will sum up the rest of this story in list form:

  1. This guy looked like Opie.
  2. He actually called me and asked me out.
  3. I actually agreed.
  4. On our first date, he wore white jeans and a black turtleneck. Please take a moment and picture that.
  5. The end of our first date found us in his mom’s basement watching Batman, and at one point, I noticed I was sitting next to a can of Blue Star ointment, as in JOCK ITCH CREAM.
  6. I met up with him a second time (I KNOW!!!), and he actually said to me, “So, are you going to sleep with me or what?” (and NO, I DID NOT, thank you very much, because even stupid 19-year-old me had standards, albeit very odd ones.)
  7. After that disastrous evening, I stopped returning his calls and his MOTHER (who I had never met) found my number and called me, begging me to go out with him again.
  8. Some time later, I found out he lied about his age. And was way old. And not even a student at my college like he told me he was. Yay.

Blurrgh. I feel sick now.

But as bad as that story is (which is very, very bad), Evan Rachel Wood will be able to TOP IT. After all,

My mistake:


“So, Aunt Bea, are you going to sleep with me or what?”

Her mistake:


“Honey, can you pick me up some more clown white at the store?”


Entry filed under: Gobble-gobble.

In Other News, Somewhere a Puppy is Dying RIGHT NOW Today in Shock

4 Comments Add your own

  • 1. Husband of Said Turkey  |  August 15, 2007 at 12:20 pm

    Hmm… this seems like one of those stories I should have been privy to before I agreed to marry you. 😉

    And at least he didn’t ask you to scratch his jock.

  • 2. jiveturkey  |  August 15, 2007 at 12:48 pm

    I ain’t stupid – you never would have married me if you knew I had gone on a date with Itchy-Crotch Opie.

  • 3. Friend/Colleague/Alibi of Said Turkey  |  August 15, 2007 at 3:50 pm

    I once had a mint condition Itchy-Crotch Opie, but I sold it for Herpes Action Fonzie.

  • 4. Friend of Turkey  |  August 15, 2007 at 4:37 pm

    Hahahah…awesome story. I love black turtlenecks.


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