... About the Undeniably Raw Power of Ultra-Tight Pants

The other night I found myself magically transported to a world far better than our own, a world where I could be mesmerized as Barry Gibbs and Peter Frampton infiltrated an Aerosmith rendition of "Come Together" to rescue Barry's feather-haired damsel from the foul clutches of rock and roll. When Barry and Steven Tyler brandished microphone stands to fight for the woman they both loved (nothing Freudian about that), and the golden-haired princess fell to her untimely death, my heart nearly stopped. Nothing could make me feel whole again - except perhaps Barry crooning to his lover's corpse with a heartfelt "Golden Slumbers."

I didn't want to wake up.

And, luckily, I don't have to. Sgt Pepper's Lonely Heart's Club Band is OnDemand for a few more weeks!

That's right, Reader. It wasn't a dream - at least not in the loss-of-consciousness-REM-cycle sense of the word. It was the horribly campy 1978 visual tribute to the best of the Beatles, starring the Bee Gees and Peter Frampton!

Imagine, if you will, Reader, an empty room. Now with your mind's eye, fill that room with all the illicit substances that had to have been consumed to create this film. Not just during principal photography, oh no. Imagine pre-production. Imagine the pitch meeting. Imagine Maurice Gibb leaning back in a faux-velvet chair, in the middle of a smoke-filled B-theater, watching the Beatles' mildly successful Yellow Submarine, and saying to himself (and anyone within earshot), "Yeah, man. I could do that." Imagine all the people...

And yet, not even the indisputable glory of Sgt Pepper's could overshadow the resplendence of Barry Gibb's skin-tight pants. Let's face it, the man would have been less exposed had he been stripped down naked. I found myself pondering how a man with such disturbing fashion sense and that high, girlish voice could have gained such success, even respect, in the music industry.

Then I got in my car and Maroon 5 blasted from my CD player.

And it struck me. Adam Levine, James Blunt, Robin Thicke - they're like the Barry Gibb of our generation. Yes, they lack the perfectly wind-blown coif, but the pants? The voices? It's all there.

What happened, Reader? I thought we'd moved past this. I thought we'd left the 70s where they belonged (in the 90s). I thought we had realized how foolish we were for finding those pants and that voice so irresistible. Oh, well. At least we aren't still wasting our time with psychadelic two-hour music videos with sorry attempts for a story written around our favorite melodies of the Fab Four.

Now, if you'll excuse me, Reader, I'm going to go watch Across the Universe.

... About This Overwhelming Sense of Jealousy I'm Experiencing Right Now

Reader, I'm not a huge celebrophile. Sure, I'll flip through entertainment news every now and then, but I've had a few celebrity encounters and never got that excited about them. I am disinclined to believe that a person is worthy of my admiration simply because of their celebrity status.

However, I got a text message from my sister today that made my blood boil in jealous rage. Because there are some people, some celebrities, that literally make my heart skip a beat every time I see them on screen or read their name in the news. From these, I've picked my favorites to be in my Top Five: Ron Howard, Matt Damon, Jason Bateman, Gael Garcia Bernal, and Dom Monaghan. These are my favorites, but there are others on serious contention. It's pretty easy for someone with an honorable mention to get bumped into the Top Five on a whim.

Maren got to meet one of these honorable mentions today. She works in the press department at Sundance, and during the festival (which is now) she spends her days helping out at several of the different film venues. The text message said:

I. Met. Alan. Rickman. He was at U23D. I handed him his glasses and said enjoy the show. He said thank you. The wedding is in April. Snape, Snape, Severus Snape!

I literally gasped so hard I started coughing. Alan Rickman is a frickin' stallion!!!! I adore him!

A week or so ago I said something about my Top Five list to Katie, Bailey, and Alexis. They said I was disgusting, simply because they refused to understand what my Top Five list is. Most people only consider physical sex appeal when coming up with a Top Five. If that were the case with me, than yeah, I can see how one might be a bit disturbed to find Ron Howard on the list. But that's not what MY Top Five is! It's not based on looks alone. It's based on a combination of charm, talent, and the possession of a certain je ne sais quois that makes me want to see any movie or TV show they are involved in.

Yes, I do know that Matt Damon is on my Top Five. But he's not on the list for the reasons you think, Reader. True, he's a double-dipped-chocolate-chunk-truffle in the Eye Candy world, but the reason he's on my top five is because he always looks down when he smiles. Watch, you'll see it. It's that random, tiny character trait that makes my heart flutter. And Mr. Howard? I have profound respect for the man who's been an actor since he was a toddler, is still married to his high school sweetheart, and never once used his celebrity as an excuse for illicit behavior. Plus, have you ever seen "American Graffiti"? He's absolutely adorable!

Are you starting to understand now, Reader? Or are you so shallow that your only response is, "Yeah, but Dom Monaghan and Gael Garcia Bernal are so SHORT!" Who cares? They're brilliant!

And as for Alan Rickman... Who couldn't love the man that performed to perfection in everything from "Die Hard" to "Harry Potter" to "Galaxy Quest", and still had the cajones to whip out his pipes for "Sweeney Todd"?!

So, seriously, Reader. Quit making fun of my Top Five... we both know you're only doing it because you're jealous.

... About My Recent Lack of Blogging

Yesterday my mom admonished me for failing to update my blog. To be perfectly frank, I wasn't aware that my mom was a regular patron of "What I Think...", but she had a point. At my old job I had nothing better to do than work on my blog, play on Facebook or FreeRice, write political manifestos, etc. But, since I started my new job, I spend my days working. It's a novel concept, I know. However, I apologize for neglecting my first and foremost duties - bringing you the joyous inner workings of my subconscious. So, while I'm waiting for my daily report to print, I'll write a few mini-blogs to get you caught up on my thoughts over the last week or two:

• Katie knows me well. She knows me so well, in fact, that she gave me a Word-A-Day desk calendar for Christmas. Golden. My word today is "baleful", meaning 1) deadly or pernicious in influcence, or 2) foreboding or threatening evil. Yesterday it was "teleological". The day before that was "John Barleycorn".
• I don't know how long that Tootsie Roll has been in the drawer, and, not knowing, whether or not I should eat it.
• You'll be happy to hear I've finally solidified My Top Five. In alphabetical order, they are: Jason Bateman, Matt Damon, Gael Garcia-Bernal, Ron Howard, and Dom Monaghan. If you don't know what My Top Five is, don't make assumptions. You're probably wrong.
• The problem with hooker boots is, when your left sock falls down it's such a process to get it back up again.
• One of my co-workers, Alina, accidentally took the little money tube thing from the bank drive-thru yesterday. I think that officially makes her a bank robber. Oh, and my boss is watching soap operas in his office right now.
• Would you eat at a restaurant called "The Mangy Moose?" Me, neither.
• I actually counted the wheels on an 18-wheeler today, because I wondered if it was just an expression.
• We played Scene-It at Jacey's New Year's Eve party. I dominated. Jacey's friend Austyn thought it was because I majored in film and we played Scene-It for my finals. How awesome would that be?! But no. I had multiple choice/essay tests just like the rest of you.
• Yeah, that's right. I ate the Tootsie Roll.