Kiss Kissin' and Bang Bangin'

Oh boy oh boy. I wish someone had told me before I signed up for this job how much actual work was going to be involved. I know, that sounds retardedly glib, but bear with me here; give me time to elaborate. I have no problem with going to the office and getting my biz'ness on. I welcome it. There are some circles in which I am known as Miz Biz'ness, if you must know. That is not the issue here.

The issue here (you were asking, no?) is what I'm uninformed about is whether there will be business, not what the business will be. (SIDE NOTE: I did not realize when I typed that sentence how hard it would be to find a reference link. I realize that prehaps it was not the best use of pop culture referencing out with which I ever busted ((SIDE SIDE NOTE: Please tell me you love that sentence as much as I do. I have been waiting to drop that on you for so long. I hope you appriciated it.))* but I cannot believe that there is not one single photo or video of the Whether Man in the entire interweb-o-sphere. I can't believe I'm saying this, but Google, you have FAILED ME.) If I had some sort of indicator as to the level of work I am expected to accomplish on a weekly basis, then I could calibrate my demanding schedule accordingly--maybe stretch out my DVR time, throw up some blog posts in advance (HAHA we know THAT's never going to happen. Oh Harester, you're so funny.), and whatnot. Instead what happens is I roll in on Monday all 'Psh, this week is going to be sloooow' and then come Tuesday at 11 o'am the floodgates are triggered and all the paperwork in the world comes crashing down on my dainty unprepared head and it is NOT PRETTY. A little advanced notice, that is ALL I am asking, help keep a girl sane.

*These are parintheses, which I am adding to the list of Punctuation for the Modern Day Sasser. Not to be confused with the far more pedestrian and well-known parentheses.

Anyanyanyways I have something very important and serious to discuss with you today and I need you to focus (or ficus, which is what I inititally typed. Dork) as it involves two of my favorite subjects:

1. Famous people; and

2. Banging.

Here are the facts: the other night I was up way past my bedtime (duh) watching television (duh) and eating peanut butter and saltine crackers like they cured what ailed me (duh and they do.) Since there was nothing really worthwhile on the telly (read: no showings of The Fast and the Furious: Tokyo Drift) I figured I'd just finish up registering for my free supply of ExtenZe and then hit the sack. FALSE.

I was so close to turning that sucker off and turning in for realz this time when my eager eyes were arrested by a reminder that coming up on AMC in only half an hour was the comedy/mystery/action classic Kiss Kiss Bang Bang. OH NO. Perhaps you're confused, dear reader(s) so let me resolve your cnfusion with the three magic words: Robert, Downey, and Junior.

Now it's a well-documented phenomenon that while I possess considerable stores of snark and sass, my powers are no match for the brand of scruffy roguery and witty scallywaggery that RDJ provides. It gets me every time. And just to be clear, by 'gets me every time' I mean, 'makes me hot and bothered like Kim Cattrall in the boys' locker room.' As I write this I am most definitely breathing heavily with my legs tightly crossed. Compare Junior to this handy guide to my ideal gentleman friend:

Looks older? Check. Lots of real world experience? Check. Likes to give advice? Check. Possibly bearded?? CHECK. EXCUSE ME I NEED TO GO TO THE BATHROOM I'LL BE RIGHT BACK.

Okay. I'm calm. er.

The main point here is that even though I knew I was going to be feeling it in the morning, and even though I am in possession of a fully functional Digital Video Recording device, I sat myself firmly down in front of that movie and prepared myself for two hours of pure, uninterrupted female orgasm.

In case you were wondering,  it was so worth it. Mmm.

Back to the present. I was describing this euphoric experience to Hattie several days later later--because that's the kind of close personal friendship we have--and in response to my story she said, 'Well duh, RDJ is totally on your list,' to which I naturally responded, 'Whahuh? What list?' 'Your five people,' she said, giving me the don't-be-such-a-dumbface look. 'Um...right,' I said, giving her the hi-have-we-met-this-is-how-I-am-in-real-life look right back.

Now as you may or may not already know, depending on how well you may or may not know me, I am not exactly the dictionary definition of 'cool.' 'Sokay, because I can admit it like a man. Usually this takes the form of me not knowing about something until everyone and their cousin in Sochi knows about it, has joined the 'I knew about it before it was cool' group on Facebook, and is telling everyone that he is so over it because it was like, so 2009. Dear reader(s), this time is no different. I didn't really watch much TV as a kid, unless you count Nickelodeon, Saved By the Bell, and The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air (AND WHY WOULD ANYONE NOT COUNT THEM??), so on the whole I missed the whole Friends/Seinfeld craze and as a result I don't get a lot of the [air quote marks] "inside jokes" [air quote marks] from that era. Hattie, on the other hand, can pretty much give you the down and dirty rundown on every single episode, and apparently she was making a reference to this 'classic' scene:

So apparently your 'list' is the list of the five people you're allowed to sleep with no matter what, kind of like a 'get into bed free' card. I am already on board. HOWEVER Hattie tells me that my current list is not permissible. It reads:

1. Robert Downey Jr.

2. Robert Downey Jr.

3. Robert Downey Jr.

4. Robert Downey Jr.

5. Robert Downey Jr.

She claims that you need to have five different people, or else it's pointless. I say, that when I finally meet Mr. Downey in a run down but still classy underground establishment, I will have a 500% better chance of kiss kiss and bang bangin' him if I can demonstrate that he occupies not only one but all five of my sweet spots. With a come-on like that who WOULDN'T want to hit this? Right? Of course right! In deference to my co-blogger, co-habitator, and partner in making me do things all the time, I have constructed a 'real' list with five 'different' people. Witness, therefore,

The March Hare's Top 5 List

1. RDJ. 

The he goes and there he will stay. There is nothing further to say on the matter.

2. Zachary Levi

If RDJ is my Platonian ideal, then Zach Levi is my corner pub reality. And I am okay with that. Whenever you're ready to settle down Zach, you know who to call.

3. Jason Schwartzman

I feel like Jason is the kind of guy who would be a bad decision that I just couldn't resist but then he would never call and break my heart, so maybe it's a good thing he's Hollywood royalty.

4. T.J. Thyne

If only guys with three PHDs looked like this in real life, I would be SET 4 LYFE.

5. Matthew Bomer

I know what you're thinking: clean shaven? Strait laced? This man does not fit the profile. But I would be a liar if I said that I'm not crazy about a sharp dressed man. Plus he can shoot laser beams out of those baby blues. For. serious.