Should you need us

Other than the people who need to know what "catty" means and the people who are Googling Matt Nathanson's wife (stop it, people; just STOP), I don't think many folks besides MeiMei and myself (and maybe Rachael in Australia -- hey, Rachael!) have missed us, since we -- petered out? To say "retired from posting" is to give more dignity to what really happened, which is ... lives? I'm going to go with "lives".

Anyway, point is, if you're wondering which scifi TV series has most ticked Seren off lately, you're welcome to mosey over to my brandnew tumblr:

http://monology.tumblr.com/

I'll try to do more than just re-post Gingerhaze drawings and quotes from Dylan Moran. No promises though. (I am contemplating finishing off my AAOA series, just to prove to the world that I had a crush on Peter Dinklage waaaay before GOT.)

Nana Trollface will be thrilled

PS your hair has never looked better

Is it wrong to want an entire series of these? Up next: Madame Bovary!

AAOOA #3: Luis Tosar

I don't normally recommend choosing a celebrity boyfriend based on one film. That's like buying an album for the one song you like. It can go very badly.

But what if you like two songs? What then? I figure you buy it.

And if it also turns out that an entire country (in this case, Spain) already has a crush on the guy, you can trust your instincts on this one. Even if, the first time you spot him, he's wearing the most elaborate mutton chops this side of the Civil War.

Thus it was for me and Luis Tosar, who had been completely unnoticed by me until Unconscious. It apparently premiered briefly with acclaim, but didn't come to my attention until Netflix stepped in. If you happened to be an English major in the last twenty years, this movie lets you finally use your knowledge of Freud for good and not evil. And you will laugh giddily while doing it.

You will also think, Catch me, I swoon! Despite (or maybe because of? I don't know your id) the mutton chops. You will think,
Here is the only reason to watch Michael Mann's Miami Vice.

But is it necessary to expose yourself to Colin Ferrell just to confirm a crush? I'd recommend Flores de otro mundo as a second song, instead. It lacks unpleasant Irish thugs and absurd facial hair, and with that good view of his face, I realized who Luis Tosar reminds me of -- George Clooney.

I know, I know -- but in a good way. Not in a "dating women he should probably be dropping off at day care" way. (Well, at least as far as I can tell -- my Internet Spanish is poor.) Rather, I mean, he has that same way of looking at someone. That held-breath pause, where his face is still but the eyes are longing, regretting, hoping, despairing, desperate but not yet daring. You know, how Dr. Ross used to look at Nurse Hathaway.

Yes, Clooney can still do it now, but first of all, you'd have to timeshare him with the Fug Girls (if they'd let you -- unlikely), and secondly, you'd have to accept some responsibility for Leatherheads.

Luis Tosar only has his side project, The Ellas, to apologize for. Search your conscience, people. I think you'll make the right choice.

AAOOA #2: Alexander Skarsgard

I know, I know. This isn't breaking news or anything. Alexander Skarsgard is beyond smoking. Ehhhverybody's already noticed this. "True Blood" blah, blah, blah, shirtless Viking vampire, blah, blah, blah.

But have YOU noticed? Have you really noticed? Have you Google Images noticed? Have you "watched his disarming interview on Youtube" noticed? Have you "watched a Lady Gaga video because he was in it and now you can't get the chorus out of your head" noticed?

Maybe you have. Maybe I'm just repeating something you already know about the delicious man with the swimmer's body, slightly accented English, and celebrated acting lineage? Maybe you already knew he was age-appropriate* -- and that's the last thing "appropriate" about him, ROWR... (Yes, I just wrote that. It's probably the Gaga thing -- I feel very swinging 70s and disco all of a sudden.)

Anyway, I'm sorry I interrupted you. You can all go back to writing fan fiction about him now. I know that's what I'm going to go do.

* And the AAOOA stands for --? I forget.

AAOOA #1: Dylan Moran

I'm half tempted not to talk about this first AAOOA*. He's a little bit of a secret over here in the States, and I'm not sure I quite want to share him with everyone.

And yet I must. Because I am spearheading a movement of more more more Dylan Moran. I want him never to stop saying clever things with a wine glass in his hand, and if he has to become a big American sellout to make that happen, then by God, it's the price I'm willing to pay.

I stumbled upon him by way of "Run, Fat Boy, Run". Yes, I considered his bare bum the highlight of the movie. Also there was his smoking while biking and shouting things at the alleged "fat boy". Certainly, I was wooed by the hair. (You will be too.) Serpentine? Thicket-y? I'm at a loss to describe.

I proceeded from there to hunt down his BBC series "Black Books" -- which has the distinction of being the only thing near to as funny as "The IT Crowd" (which if you haven't watched that -- well, you're also missing out on another AAOOA, Richard Ayoade. Or do I mean, Moss?)

And then it became serious. With the assistance of an enabling friend (blessings be upon you, luzcruz), I began importing Region 2 DVDs of his standup routines. DVDs that can only be watched on the special machine. (Luckily, at luzcruz's house, the special machine happens to be hooked up to a Texas-sized TV.)

And I have to tell you -- Dylan Moran is the funniest thing since early Eddie Izzard. I can quote out of context -- "And then the cage came down! Full of Spanish fighting spiders. And she struck a match on her forearm and lit her cigarillo and sent you out to the living room to dance for the money" -- which is silly enough on its own, and even funnier when embedded in the long and winding context that is his casually intense delivery.

And he's sweet and self-deprecating and cranky and hostile and gregarious and the opposite of gregarious and without even a speck of ruth. He is never afraid to look ridiculous, and often does. He's been with his wife since his early 20s, near as my cyber-stalking can tell, and his take on parenting is clear-eyed and absurd, so he's also a keeper. And yes, it may complicate your adoration to know that you can never, ever have him, because he's not single. (Yes, that's the only reason why.) But think of it as the Tom Hanks factor -- don't we all like him better for having been with Rita Wilson so long? Yes, we do. Dylan's like that.

He's a bright, funny, oddly graceful man with mischievous hair. With an Irish accent. What more do you need?

* What's an AAOOA again? Oh, right.

Introducing the Aaaah! Oooh! Aaaahs!

I'd like to make this the inaugural post of a new feature I've been writing in my head ever since a Facebook quiz assigned me a frickin' twelve-year-old as my celebrity boyfriend.

All valid questions about the wisdom of taking seriously anything Facebook quizzes have to offer, and all insinuations about my protesting too much aside, let's face it: I am old. Srsly. When I was a kid, I used a rotary phone to call the time. Because my pet eohippus needed to know whether he was late for the Renaissance. OLD, IS WHAT I'M SAYING.

But even the aged need celebrity boyfriends. They just need age-appropriate ones.

Thus: Age-Appropriate Objects Of Affection. AAOOAs. (Pronunciation above.)

Men in their 30s. Sexy men. Smart men. Clever men. Men who DO things with their time, or at least seem to, and have things to talk about, or things to not talk about. Men. Who are not boys.

Men who are my celebrity crushes. Perhaps, one day, they may be yours.

#1 Dylan Moran
#2 Alexander Skarsgard
#3 Luis Tosar
#4 Duncan Jones (coming soon)
#5 Chiwetel Ejiofor (coming soon)
#6 Peter Dinklage (coming soon)
#7 ...

Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

That is all. Just: NO. (And maybe a little weeping.)

A sign that maybe I've been watching too many police procedurals

During a walk by the Bay, I spot something on the ground: It's the skeletal remains of a human hand coming out of the mud!

Or -- it's a bundle of bleached-out twigs. Oh. You know, whichever.