Worth a shot

Here's something I've been compiling in my head for a few days. I finally had a chance to start putting it down while I was in the doctor's office waiting room this morning. Please, settle back now and enjoy...


Attention Jake Gyllenhaal: Ten Reasons Why You Should Marry Me

1. You won't have to bend nearly double to kiss me. All it will take is a gentle dip of your head. In fact, all of our parts will line up perfectly. You could grab my ass without dislocating your shoulder. And while my self-esteem may not be exemplary, I do know that my ass is very much worth grabbing. Trust me.


2. There is no ex for you to be compared with in my past. In any department. No matter what you say or do, it's all new to me and not something to be submitted to my own subconscious grade scale.


3. I always carry my own damn purse, which is not suitcase-sized, and when I don't feel like carrying one, I leave it at home. Plus, I've been known to carry the wallet of my male companion in said purse upon request, so he wouldn't have to sit on a lump while driving or in a movie theater seat.


4. I don't find you the least bit boring. Going to clubs holds no appeal to me. My idea of a perfect evening is to spend it curled up on the couch with you, just talking, or watching a movie together. Walks on the beach are also highly ranked. Hell, walks anywhere would be great, and my legs are as long as yours, so you don't have to worry about adjusting your stride to accommodate mine.


5. Your work and mine will never cause scheduling conflicts. Actually, once I get to California I have no idea what work I'll be doing, unless I can get a writing grant. But I am free to travel with you when desired, or stay at home and water the plants. Either way, I'll take loving care of Atticus so you can concentrate on your job.


6. Speaking of dependents, I currently have none of the human variety. I am more than willing to change that, granted the appropriate partner (i.e. yourself). Our children are statistically assured to be tall, dark-haired, blue-eyed angels like their Daddy. Just do a Punnett square if you don't believe me. (I know that looks aren't everything, but this is a nice bonus.)


7. Should you, however, be in the mood for romping with children immediately, my nephew and your niece are close enough in age to make terrific playmates for each other. He's a good-natured, happy baby who loves male voices.


8. That need of yours, to have an audience, will always be satisfied with genuine interest, occasional eye rolling, frequent warm indulgence and hearty laughter. I'm already doing all of that, because there's no one and nothing I love to watch more than you.


9. You love to cook. I hate to cook. And we both hate the taste of cilantro. You can order me around the kitchen, or order me to get the hell out while you conjure whatever culinary magic your heart desires. I will eat anything you serve, willingly, eagerly, with lust in my eyes and appreciative noises issuing from my throat. Umm.


10. My absolute non-celebrity will make our couplehood spectacularly uninteresting to the tabloids and press. No one is going to ask you questions about me while you're trying to promote a movie, unless they happen to actually know and care about both of us, which is unlikely. Of course, paparazzi are still going to chase you, because you're so damn photogenic, but half of them will probably mistake me for your sister anyway.

All photos: IHJ.

Was it good for you?

(or G-Day, Sept. 7, 2007: The Day the Gyllenhaalics Attacked!)

Congratulations to Kate (WDW) at Wet Dark and Wild and Becky (Prophecy Girl) at Jake Watch on their interactions with the Gyllenhaal yesterday at the Toronto International Film Festival. It was obvious to me from the photos posted by both women that they had indeed met each other there. (PG confirmed this in her JW post.)

Photo by WDW

Photo by Prophecy Girl

Not surprisingly, every Gyllenhaalic has her or his own perspective on Jake and what he means to them. I could sit here and make a table distinguishing our various opinions and beliefs, as I have interpreted them, but my point is that while we all see something wonderful in Jake, no two of us have exactly the same image of the man in our minds. He is someone, something, that is to be experienced uniquely by everyone. I love that about him.

Yes, the past 24 hours have been an orgy of Jakeness, but only in the most superficial way. It's not that I'm complaining about the photographs--who would? But any opportunity to hear from Jake, in his own words, is something I treasure, and so far the only interview available is this one from Entertainment Weekly. There were brief clips of Jake, intercut with Reese, discussing those rumors, but I am still waiting for something more of substance to come out of TIFF. I'm sure there is more on the way; I must be patient.

Meanwhile, these are my favorite random anecdotes and gags from the weekend's madness so far. First, the flight attendant boyfriend of Adrian, a moderator on the Dave Cullen forums, has become a major hero to the 'Lashers simply by telling them what in their hearts they already knew: Jake is a nice, charming young man. Chad said,

he is very handsome man and a lot more tall than I thought he was and he have great smile and he smile all the time. he does not act like other celebrity sometimes do. anyways, that is what I will tell you. he is very nice guy.

Yet another confirmation of Jake's renown goodness comes from a society writer at the Toronto National Post, who just happened to be in the kitchen of Sotto Sotto (Who the hell names their restaurant "below below"? Is it in a basement? Xenia, is there some other meaning here of which my terribly weak, musically-influenced grasp of Italian has not made me aware?) when the sunshine of my life walked in. In addition to his not-so-subtly appreciative description of Jake's appearance ("Deeply V-necked, pleasantly broad-shouldered, and with that paralyzing dopey smile..."), Shinan Govani tells us

Jake, meanwhile, gave us a glimpse of his singularly sportybrainy-emo brand in Hollywood — the kind of chap who can competitive-bike-ride, do crosswords and get teary-eyed via Keats. The night was almost done, and he, polite to the end, thanked everyone and told Mama in particular that he dug her lasagna.

Damn straight he did. Probably with a fork the size of a shovel.

While those who were graced with his shining presence seem unanimous in declaring Jake a walking anachronism of good manners and intellect gentleman, the online shenanigans have continued, including yet another reference to Jake's crotch (Lesbians love Jake, too; why am I not surprised? Featuring such quotable reader comments as "flip you over, eat you like a pudding cup, ass smacking beast")...and this silly parody which I am not at all embarrassed to admit made me laugh.

However, the single most moving thing I've read today was this dream described by jakethesnake at the DC Forum.

He's all playful, and being funny and silly, and I'm trying to hold it together. And then I notice that all the sudden the table is extremely intimate and cozy and Jake has scooted down in his chair and kinda nestled himself NEXT TO MY ARM!! We are touching!! The whole left side of my body is making contact with his whole right side....We remain like that for the entire program, snug as a bug in a rug. I keep stealing glances of his giant blue eyes (the room is dim and there are candles on the table and his eyes are glowing from the candles!) and he's still all giggly and warm and cozy. I can still feel his warmth on my body just thinking about it.

....I think it's kinda a metaphor for what he's really like...he's really warm and genuine and silly and playful.

This, to me, beats any sex dream by a million light years. Because it encapsulates exactly what it is that I, too, feel for Jake; this strange perception of a comfortable companion, someone with whom everything is all right, and safe, and fun. It's powerful stuff. I'm hoping I can have one just like it tonight.

Update:

Naturally, once I gave up looking for news and got busy downloading over 200 new images of Jake, Vanessa Farquharson updated her blog just for us. This woman is now an honorary Gyllenhaalic in my eyes. She asked, and Jake answered (!), no less than three of the questions I suggested on Thursday.

Me: Do you ever read anything about yourself on the Internet?
Jake: (Another pause) “Sometimes people send me funny things … I’ll leave it at that.”

Me: Do you know about the Jake in ‘08 presidential campaign? It was a MySpace page but it got taken down recently.
Jake: “Wow, no, I don’t.”

Me: I hear you’re really into food — how do you feel about cilantro? Some people love it but other people think it tastes like soap.
Jake: “Oh, I really don’t like cilantro! It’s like the only herb I don’t like.”
Me: It’s a very divisive herb.
Jake: “It is.”

As if I need more direct evidence that Jake really was put on this earth for me. Jake, we are meant to be together.

Unfortunately, she still hasn't replied to my inquiry about when her Rendition interview is going to be available. If anyone sees it somewhere, please, give me a shout.


Photos: Jake Watch, Wet Dark and Wild, IHJ, and one from I can't remember where. Don't sue me.

Food for thought

This afternoon I spent twenty precious minutes of my one-hour lunch washing the bugs off of every leaf of a head of iceberg lettuce. It was nasty, but the worst part is that I'd already made (and eaten) a salad from that lettuce before discovering the infestation. Oh well. As usual, my thoughts drifted to Jake. Would he take the time to wash iceberg lettuce? Would he even disgrace his palate with iceberg lettuce? Probably not. But then, Jake is not a vegetarian on a tight budget trying desperately to lose weight.

Every time I cook, and the result is generally a monochromatic, unappetizing pile of soy-based sludge (yes, I add vegetables, but you can't tell by the time I'm done), the same idea rolls into my head: Jake would be horrified. And I know he would. If Jake Gyllenhaal, avowed foodie, cupcake- and blood sausage-eater extraordinaire (well, not together--that I know of, anyway), Mr. my Milanese is amazing, saw what this Italian-American woman has been feeding herself for the past seven months, he would weep for me. He's sensitive like that.

But I don't believe Jake has ever been fat. This picture of him with the white towel is the heaviest I've ever seen him. I'd estimate he might be carrying at the most an extra ten pounds here. Okay, fifteen. Scandalous! An innately active, athletic person like Jake generally will never face the problem with weight that I've endured my entire life. This is not the first time I've lost over fifty pounds. Hell, it isn't even the second. I am hoping it is the last.

However, it should go without saying that were I ever to have the privilege of dining with (or--gasp!--being cooked for by) Jake, he could feed me pizza, filet mignon, or Sprinkles cupcakes, and I'd eat it all. You bet I would. A girl has to know her priorities.

All photos: IHJ and the IHJ Community.