Friday Fuckfest

This week's fucktard:

Mark Ruffalo. I'm not sure if I spelled that correctly, and I don't care to look it up. My beef with him is that he is boring, just fucking boring as hell, so boring I can't even motivate myself to google him.

He pisses me off with every third-rate movie that he's in because he can't help but be boring old Mark Ruffalo in each and every one of them. The poor guy cannot act to save his life. Look, here's Mark Ruffalo standing beside that annoying chick from Alias. Vomit. And he's only slightly good looking in that 'inoffensive' way that basically means he would be better off being ugly because at least then he'd be interesting.

Now, I might be able to forgive him for being painfully bland....maybe. I mean, I have nothing against him personally, I just hate mediocrity in general. But the thing is, his generic presence is ruining otherwise perfectly good movies like Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. The sight of him "dancing" in his tightie whities was embarrassing to me. He was supposed to be high, and yet, he was so stiff and awkward it takes you right out of the scene, and makes you incredibly aware that you are merely watching a white guy pretending he's not hurtling toward being forgotten before he was ever really discovered. Yes, it's that bad. I mean, anyone who can distract me from the retchedness of Kirsten Dunst obviously has some issues. And the only reason I can think of that he continues to be a movie presence (albeit rather slight) is that he comes cheap, which frankly, is not a good reason at all.


Friday's Stupid Conversation:

Inspired by the earlier conversation found shamefully printed word for word, I was ordered to try including other inane conversations in the Friday Fuckfest, and because Julia Said, I'm going to do it. This one sadly took place just this morning...and as you may notice, should hardly even be labeled a conversation....but let's face it: if you've ever been in a relationship for more than 30 seconds, then you know that the things you don't say are often the most important.

Setting the scene: 8 am this morning, in bed

Jamie stirs in bed. She has had a rough night. After heaving for 90 minutes straight (unfortunately, not all of it dry), hot flashes overcame her, and she sat outside in the cool night air until well after 3am trying not to die. She opens one eye, and finds that Jason also has one eye open.

Jamie: Good morning!

Jason: Garumph. In his head, Jason is thinking but not saying: dear god, she cannot be up this early! Fuck fuck fuck! Why did I have to make eye contact?!? Keep calm. Look away. Pretend to fall back asleep immediately.

Beside him, Jamie is sitting up in bed, and stretching.

Jason: with barely concealed panic in his voice, Oh, are you getting up?

Jamie: Yeah, I have to pee. Thinking: hehe, look at the panic in those eyes. I am soooo going to milk this!

For some reason, Jason follows his wife to the bathroom, where she does sit and pee.

Jason: So, um, late night last night, eh? What time did you fall asleep? 3, 4 am?

Jamie: Yeah, something like that. Thinking: Look at that. He's trying to be logical with an irrational woman while she pees! He's so desperate!

When I'm finished, I stand about, hugging on my husband. He looks bewildered.

Jason: So, um, do you think you might try going back to bed?

Jamie: I suppose so.

Jason: Great! He is so relieved his knees actually give out a little, and I have to help him limp back to bed, where is asleep again before his head even hits the pillow.

Not one minute later, I am fiddling with my housecoat again. Jason peaks at me from the corner of his eye.

Jason: Oh, are you getting up again?

Jamie: Yeah, I don't feel well.

Jason sits up. I think he may cry, but he's trying really hard not to.

Jamie: No worries, I'll yell if I need you. Try to get some sleep.

Jason: Oh, well, if you're sure....his puppy dog eyes are pleading with me to be 'sure'.

Jamie: Yes, dear, I am sure. Sleep. But he already is.


Friday's Most Fuckable:




Steve Martin, funny man.

He has this irresistible quality to him, where I would gladly jump his bones, not just because I find him incredibly attractive, but because I'd like to laze around in bed, laughing and enjoying the morning with him afterward.