Ben Folds: Play Me Like a Piano...?

Sorry for the month-long hiatus so early on. Perhaps you can see why I'm stuck with fictional relationships. No time for a real one! 

While talking with a friend about the jarring feeling when seeing ex's cars, I remembered this video.

You can drive down my trail of tears any time, Ben... No, that can't be right.

Now, yes, I know this is a song by the Dresden Dolls, but we'll talk about Amanda Palmer later. Right here, and right now, we're talking about my number one pianist spouse, Ben Folds.

This is a man who tells you that his trio has five members. (And I'm not too embarrassed to tell you that I didn't work that one out until about two months ago when I saw them on the "Do It Anyway" video, because I didn't have cable, never saw any music videos, never went to a concert, and wasn't the kind of kid who read liner notes. Oops.) He can barely sing, but he rocks it with confidence every time. And I spent approximately 4,000 hours of my time in middle school sighing while listening to "Brick." [dramatic swoon] I was such a good kid; "Army" may well have been the first time I sang along with a swear word. Yeah, I wore that CD out on the brand new Discman. Happy 13th birthday, future Mrs. Folds!

But it wasn't until I saw him as a judge on The Sing Off, an acapella contest show on NBC, that I knew we were getting serious. You'll work it out eventually, so let's get one thing straight; this girl loves a nerd. Talk passionately to me about something I don't understand, but in a way I find accessible, and you've got me. Bed Folds is an ultimate music nerd. I didn't always follow the technical stuff, but this is the same guy who sang a chorus of "you can't draw a crowd by drawing dicks on a wall," so I think we could work that out. Anyways, music nerd. Huge nerd.

Really, really, shockingly big nerd.

Glasses.

Le sigh!

How would this meeting go? Not well, I'd think.

Me: Hey, you look kind of familiar.

Ben Folds: Yeah, I'm Ben Folds.

Me: No, I don't think so... Hold on, let me IMDB it...

Ben Folds: OK, well, would you like to hear me play the piano? [rocks]

Me: Oh, yeah, you're Ben Folds! I had one of your CDs once.

Ben Folds: Ouch.

Me: Look, if we got married, would you be able to get Red Fraggle to come?

Pros: Finally Growing Into His Face, This.

Cons: Married, Insanely Too Cool For Me, I Know Absolutely Nothing About Music and Fan Girl Blathering Can Only Carry Us So Far. 3 points.

Note: While all the Youtube links in this post are Ben playing covers of other people's song, I do actually know and love his work as well. Here. (See? He looks much better these days. Maybe it's the hair. Either way, I'd totally marry that.)

Bradley Whitford: My kind of politics

This week, in honor of Election Day, I'd like to talk about a more politically motivated marriage. Four years ago, I participated in an online poll. It asked this question, "No matter who wins the election in November, which president would you want them to be most like." Now here's where it gets tricky; they had given me a little box to type my answer in, instead of multiple choice (because no one's going to click on Millard Fillmore or William Henry Hayes, but it would seem rude to leave them out entirely).

Adequate, forgettable, occasionally regrettable...

So, I gave them the truth, and wrote in that box, "President Jed Bartlett of The West Wing."

I have several spouses from that one show, but I'm currently watching Bradley Whitford's one-season cop comedy The Good Guys, and gaining a new appreciation for his ability to make a fool of himself. Bradley Whitford doesn't seem to take himself too seriously. How could you, with that mustache?

Just look at that 'stache.

But check out that young, awkward, brainy, cocky spaz on the left. That is Bradley as Josh Lyman, White House Deputy Chief of Staff under the Bartlett administration. That is the man who strides boldly into his office and trumpets to his assistant:

Josh Lyman: Victory is mine, victory is mine. Great day in the morning, people, victory is mine.
Donna Moss: Morning, Josh.
Josh Lyman: I drink from the keg of glory, Donna. Bring me the finest muffins and bagels in all the land.
Donna Moss: It's going to be an unbearable day.

That is the man I fell in love with. Quick-witted, smart, and willing to take a meeting in a waders if necessary.

For explanation, please see 1.14 Take This Sabbath Day.

So, why is Bradley so right for me? Upon the briefest inspection, he appears to have written a grand total of 3 blog posts for The Huffington Post. I could even manage to write my second post on time. We can be slackers together. I knew for certain that he was one of the Ones when I found myself singing his name in a high-pitched sing song voice while watching The Good Guys. the last syllable of Whitford really lends itself to enthusiastic elongation.

The Final Score

Bradley Whitford: Divorcee, 50% of desire to marry contributed by his fictional characters. 1.5 points.

Closing thought: Seriously, that mustache. Just no. But I love him even so.

Shakespeare: You never forget your first fictional husband.

At a young (and nerdy) age, I decided that I was going to marry Shakespeare. Maybe I had just finished learning Shakespearean insults at that Shakespeare acting camp, maybe I'd read my first sonnet in an English class, or maybe I just wanted to be demonstrably smart and cool. (Note: I had interesting ideas about coolness.) Whatever the reason, Shakespeare was the first of many fictional relationships. While many of my counterparts were reading Tiger Beat and swooning over Jonathan Taylor Thomas, I was kind of into Shakespeare. (Though I do remember being urged to pick on the bus one day and admitting that, of all the guys on that page, Leonardo DiCaprio had the prettiest eyes.) This is one fictional relationship that's grown over time.

Much like the Beatles, I used to like Shakespeare because I thought I was supposed to, but as I grew older, I realized that we had a lot in common. I discovered that there was more to Shakespeare than his fame. For instance, he was a man of the people, who wrote for the drunk guys standing on rushes in the pit as well as the royalty. He once bought a pig (according to a professor, this was one of the few records of his everyday life). He may have actually been an Earl. He seems cool with cross dressing. And, most importantly, the man loved a good syphilis joke. I mean, how is that not sexy?

Also, I could call him Big Willy, which I admit I did for many years.

I imagine the proposal would have gone something like this (remember, English was pronounced differently in his time):

Shakespeare: I know no ways to mince it in love, but directly to say 'I love you:' then if you urge me farther than to say 'do you in faith?' I wear out my suit. Give me your answer; i' faith, do: and so clap hands and a bargain: how say you, lady?
Me: Sorry, I can't understand you.
Shakespeare: My bounty is as boundless as the sea, my love as deep; the more I give to thee, the more I have, for both are infinite.
Me: ... Are you from Ireland?
Shakespeare: Upon thy cheek I lay this zealous kiss, as seal to the indenture of my love.
Me: Ohhhh, now I get it. Yeah, that's cool by me.
Shakespeare: Have I caught thee, my heavenly jewel? Why, now let me die, for I have lived long enough. [dies]
Me: What? Aw, crud.

The Final Score

Shakespeare: Dead, gay (?), married, and fictional (?). 2-4 points, depending on what you believe about his identity.

Note: I admit that my love of Shakespeare has also been influenced by Ten Things I Hate About You. If only I'd taken the Bard of Avon to Prom.