Crushes.We’ve all had them, and if we are normal, healthy and red blooded human beings, I am pretty sure that 99% of us still do.
But I am discovering, to my chagrin, that I seem to have an unconventional taste in Crushes.
For example, I do NOT fancy Brad Pitt. I think he looks like he smells. Even when he looks fairly clean, he still looks like he’d have a right unwashed pong about him. However, Robbie Williams almost definitely does smell, but if he was taller, I would say he is almost attractive. Tom Cruise is another man I would not give up a roast dinner for. He too would smell – Of Brut 33. And Old Spice. Both at the same time.
When all my teen-angsty friends were crushing over Daryl or Shirley, I had my thing for Red Symons. Yes, that Red. He of the Mr Surly Grumpy-Pants fame. I had a thing about him. And Harrison Ford instead of Mark Hamill; Robert Carlyle – even in Trainspotting. And while Christopher Eccleston made a really rather HOT Doctor; David Tennant… Snaggle toothed and slightly grubby Englishmen give me great delight.
And whilst we’re on the topic of Tall Dark and Handsome – Doc Neeson. Phwoar, he used to really pop my cork. I met him once, and I was a dribbling fan-grrl I tell you. It was a very memorable evening, I tell you. I was taken back stage by my friend to meet his Uncle Bernard. He kissed my hand. I swooned. Now, I am a tall girl – but he towered over me. This incredibly tall man with piercing blue eyes looking down on me as I gibbered like a fool. And to think that today Uncle Bernard is pushing 60!
To finish off, I must recount the tale of Meeting Chris Isaak.
I was on my way to my friend’s house and she called me just before I left to see what I wanted to do. I mentioned that Chris Isaak was playing at Southland and maybe we could go have a look. She thought it was a cool idea and off we went. We parked the car, checked out where the band was playing and got ourselves a good position to see the show, We weren’t total Fan-Grrls you know, it wasn’t as if we had to be frontrow centre or anything (unlike seeing Andy Prieboy in St Kilda with Mad M – but that’s a tale for another day). Saw the band, they were pretty good, then they announced that Chris Isaak would be hanging around to sign autographs.
The queue was immense, so we weren’t going to bother. We went and bought his CD, looked around a couple of shops and decided to hell with it, we had no other plans, we were just on for a chat anyway – so chatting in the queue and being all ironic and everything about being there was fine with both of us.
So we queued. For TWO WHOLE HOURS. We both expected that he would announce “autographs were over” at any moment, and just chatted and giggled about being fan grrls and how Mad M would be soooo jealous when we told her at work on Monday. Then it was our turn.
By crikey, that man is HOT. H.O.T. Swoonworthy blue eyes, muscular arms, sleeves rolled up – and that voice… Honey, dark chocolate smoothness as he looks up at you and asks how to spell your name… ahbadahddhahweedhhsaa. Lost all ability to speak, I did. And my friend wasn’t much better than I was. We got our signed cds and ran off giggling like the total fan girlies we really and truly were; then had to have a good sit down afterwards to recover.
And as for Mad M… She, of course, had to do one better. She went to the concert, queued up for THREE hours and got a tshirt, which she wore to work the next day. Bet her tshirt’s all worn out now. And I still have my cd!
