#36: Ryan Gosling

Hey Girl.

Hey Girl. Riots, not Diets.

Hey Girl. Riots, not Diets.

Caution. Ryan Gosling uttering these words into any woman’s quivering ears may lead to a complete and total psychological break. Hell, just looking at him melts me into a pile of stupid. If I met him, I’d certainly look like a stalker. Or an imbecile. Probably an imbecile.

The simple truth is, Ryan Gosling is the perfect man. He oozes a combination of sex appeal and sensitivity that no mere mortal can reproduce. He can make a 1990s goatee/pirate beard seem cool again. Aaarrg! He worked an awesome scorpion jacket in Drive. An effing scorpion jacket. He wears Levis like they were meant to sit on those perfect, muscular, cut hips. Look at those eyes. I know you want to. He’s like a puppy dog. A puppy dog that needs a home. A puppy dog that needs a home and a female companion that can love him. Change him. Caress him. Adore him.

Oh, I'm sorry. Were you saying something important?

Oh, I’m sorry. Were you saying something important?

What? Oh, I’m sorry. I think I just blacked out. What were we talking about? Sex? No? Ah, yes. I remember now. Mr. Gosling. So, technically sex was the correct answer. Suck it.

The thing is, many of Hollywood’s elite males get women going for all of the right reasons. Brad Pitt was Numero Uno for most women for an entire decade (Just a note: I was totally Team Angie). Bradley Cooper is also delightful. The dude speaks French. Fluently. That’s pretty hard to contend with. But Ryan? This guy is different. He gets us. He understands our wants, needs and desires. He wants to make women happy. All women. There’s an entire feminist blog  that proves this point. I swear.

I’ll pretty much see any movie this man is in. He’s batting at about a 99% on the awesome scale anyway. One word: Drive. I don’t care what the man does after that film. Perfection. Ryan Gosling spends most of the film without dialog, yet he says so much. I think it was something like, “Hey girl. I saw you over there looking sad. Want a hug? I’ll take you for a ride in my car. Smile.” Side note though, where in the hell was his Oscar nomination? The Academy saw fit to nominate (and choose) a Frenchman, but they never recognized a classic American-God-like- wonderboy, with acting chops to match? I should have known The Academy was full of shit after Crash won the Oscar. I effing hate the Oscars. Dicks.

Everyone needs this jacket.

Every man needs this jacket. I’m not joking.

That brings me to Blue Valentine. Admission: I thought Blue Valentine was going to be a romance. A fucking romance. I was  profoundly wrong in this assumption. I’m possibly retarded. Still, Gosling made this two-hour Odyssey of Depression bearable. Spoiler Alert: This movie is not happy. Not at all. I felt gutted afterward. I wanted to drink. Then cry. Then drink again. If that’s not your cup of tea, look away. Run. Don’t look back. Just, sprint.

But ladies, if you value your life, please don’t bring up The Notebook around me. While Ryan is adorable in it (I can call him Ryan because he understands me), I’d rather remove my eyeballs with a spoon than sit through something that Nicholas Sparks is responsible for. OMFG he sucks balls. While I’ll admit that The Notebook is probably his strongest…um… novel, it doesn’t mean too much when your life’s work is a steaming pile of shit.

I’m clearly off track. Back to business.

I’m pretty sure Ryan Gosling is here to stay for the long haul. He just wants us to love him and accept him for who he is. No strings attached. He’s all man. All real. Perfection. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I feel the urge to watch old episodes of Goosebumps. Yep. I went there. I bet you thought I’d bring up The Mickey Mouse Club. Guess you were wrong. Boom.

And gentlemen: Try the scorpion jacket. For realz.


One response to “#36: Ryan Gosling

  1. Good to see you back. You can’t deny the Gosling.

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