I was told earlier that my blog posts about JG Thirlwell read like love letters, which is fair, because I love him more than Garfield loves Pooky, but he’s far from the only craven idol in my life. There’s Bethesda supremo Todd Howard, AKA My Lurrrve-Hobbit: I have frequently threatened to “pop him on my lap and stroke him like a kitten”. There’s Everett True, who drives me absolutely nuts but is still this guy to me:
There’s my friend-and-colleague Steve, who speaks at least a dozen languages and is one of the smartest guys I know (and I know some seriously smart people). I once drunkenly hugged him at the office party while declaring that he was “just a gweat biiig bunny wabbit“, which wouldn’t have been quite so toe-curlingly awful if he didn’t hate to be touched – or if he hadn’t been showing his brand new recruit around at the time. I hugged the new manager, too, who immediately decided that this was just the best company ever. And there’s my modding muse Korana, who incites me to mutter What Would Korana Do? every time I’m making a new doll’s house for my play people. I’m wondering at which point I’ll stop crediting every mod I make to Korana for “inspiration” – or whether I ever should. Of those not personally known to me, Gary Oldman makes the list because I’ll watch anything he’s in – that goes beyond my simple fangirl love for Karl Urban or Johnny Depp because it takes a special kind of devotion to sit through The Scarlet Letter.
So you get the idea: when I love someone or something, I have about as much restraint as a puppy with a fresh, juicy bone. I like to talk about things I love. I like to shout about things I love. I don’t pay much attention to the things I don’t like because I’d rather not spend any more time with them than I need to. I don’t want to end up like P Benson. Continue reading