Aren't they adorable little bigots?
I think I first fell in love with Brendan Fraser in 1992, in School Ties: where his friends showed us what young, hot boy bigots look like. He played secretly Jewish boy going to a prep-school that hated Jews. This was also about the same time that I decided I wanted to be Jewish. Jews are Gods chosen people and I never got why everyone is always trying to wipe them out. (this movie increased my puzzlement, if Jewish boys look like Brendan Fraser, who would want to kill them? Ever?)
Isn't he dreamy?
Mostly I wanted to be Jewish, because I was getting tired. Being an evangelical Christian is fucking exhausting. I had to prostelytize, like, all the goddamn time. And nobody ever beleived me about how God was awesome. At this point, not even I beleived me. If he was so fucking awesome, how come everything I did made me feel bad? Just keeping track of all the stuff I couldn’t do was exhausting. I couldn’t swear, gossip, make-out with boys, or wish terrible torture on my enemies. This was not a religion made for teenage girls.
In my teenage years, movies provided an escape from a childhood I wouldn’t wish on a Nazi. Well, ok, maybe a Nazi would deserve my parents, but only after they’d comitted actual acts of atrocity. And then the Nazi would turn around and be like “I had to commit those acts of atrocity, did you see how my Mom treated me?” and then, because they were my parents in the first place I’d have to be like “Yeah, ok. Sometimes I think about slaughtering others because of my painful childhood too, Nazi, I get it. But you really should have just gotten some fucking therapy.”
Movies had a magical quality to them, offering me two hours where I could not-live in my life, and somehow, that break, that two-hour vacation gave me the strength to dive back into the fray. In my adult years, I’ve found that a similar magic can sometimes be achieved through thoughtful application of whiskey while talking to diabolically cute and clever boys. Or a nice, long hit from the bong I keep in the living room, and a few contemplative cigarrettes.
Anyway, I digress, Brendan Fucking Fraser was one of the boys that I fell for, when falling for boys on-screen got me through my hard times. I think of him like he was the cute boy I never got up the nerve to talk to in my math class. Except, boys in my math class weren’t that cute, and I had a lot of chutspuh in high school. Yes, he’s made some decisions I wouldn’t have made, like The Mummy or Blast From The Past but I did “phone work” for a dating service. If you compare the two, who looks lamer? I’m pretty sure it’s me.
Admit it, you wanna see them play Gay Chicken.
Last night, they played one of his guest-starring Scrubs episodes. At one point, he and Dr. Cox lean in for a kiss, and Dr. Cox pulls away first, to which Brendan says: “YES! I’m the King Of Gay Chicken!”. I shrieked with laughter. I forgot that Scrubs could do that to me. And I forgot that Brendan could do that to me. It made my panties wet for him all over again.
So, of course, I squealed, when Kay called me to tell me that last week, a friend of hers had given him a Snarky Card, and he’d loved it. Apparently, he and Harrison Ford are here filming a new movie in Portland (a medical drama…? What the fuck is a medical drama anyway?), and Kay’s gorgeous friend, who’s got a few lines in the movie, gave him a Snarky Card, which he thought was hilarious. This means that not only do I have the approval and of my cooler peers (I mean you, Bitch Magazine!), but I also have the respect of hot boys who I wanted to make-out with in my teens!
So, thanks, Brendan Fraser. For everything. For liking my shit and creating Gay Chicken, and teaching me that history includes hot boys. These Snarky Cards are for you.
