Oh, Evan Rachel Wood
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:
- This guy looked like Opie.
- He actually called me and asked me out.
- I actually agreed.
- On our first date, he wore white jeans and a black turtleneck. Please take a moment and picture that.
- 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.
- 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.)
- 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.
- 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,
“So, Aunt Bea, are you going to sleep with me or what?”
“Honey, can you pick me up some more clown white at the store?”
Entry filed under: Gobble-gobble.