J.Crew catalogs are my porn

So--because I only think really deep thoughts--in writing my last post I realized that J.Crew catalogs are basically my porn. |: Whereas someone might ogle shirtless Abercrombie and Fitch models, I'd be the chick who wallpapers her wall with clippings of dudes fully clothed and wearing chinos. And like, I used to go totally ape shit over sweater vests. What am I, a gay man?

Many ladies have low expectations of the way their men dress. Straight dudes can't dress themselves, they say, just accept it. And to that I say no. Damn it, I refuse.

Basically the men in J.Crew catalogs are wearing such clothes that say "I am a capable grown-ass man with a job." That's what's up.

This is Robert Redford in Out of Africa. Look at him. Are those chinos? Men, you can look like Robert Redford RIGHT NOW, JUST GO TO J.CREW.

I'll break this down: you need to look like you are competent in the workplace OR, in the case of Redford here, like you are a *#$&ing pilot/explorer/badass.
Two acceptable looks, ok? Again:

PART TIME PROFESSOR OF ARCHEOLOGY, FULL TIME BADASS
as demonstrated by Harrison Ford

AFFABLE GEEK WITH DESK JOB BUT WHO IS NICE, RELIABLE AND NOT JACKASS

as demonstrated by Joseph Gordon-Levitt

As a final piece of advice I recommend plaid/checkered button-down shirts for any and all males.

When I get married someday and my friends throw me a bachelorette party I will be both pissed off and disappointed if they hire a stripper, and not some guy who will get paid to actually put on a plaid shirt slowly. For the duration of the night I will call him "Ben." And I will tuck one dollar bills into his breast pocket.

thursday lineup mancandy

So I've already established that television is basically my lifeblood. Whatever. I'm not sad. But tonight actually tired me out, watching Community, Big Bang Theory, 30 Rock, Parks and Recreation and The Office (haven't watched The Office in ages, but I had to watch the Michael Scott peacing out ep, right?). I wish I could just have a show I like on every night of the week, but noooo. **Though Wednesdays is Modern Family. And Tuesdays is Biggest Loser. Don't look at me like that, I said I'm not sad. And dudes, next week Tim Gunn gives the contestants makeovers. So dope.

Anyway I think there's something hormonally weird going on with me right now because I was diggin' on some fictional characters pretty hard. I'm going to talk about it because it's nearly 2AM and I'm feeling kind of punchy and whatever.

For starters, I was all about Sheldon Cooper tonight. He was just pure irresistible adorableness. I repeat, pure and adorable. When Sheldon isn't being a pompous ass he's just so effing sweet. And you know what, the character of Sheldon, this nerdy, romantically inexperienced guy, totes hearkens back to like, the bygone days of middle school crushes. And I like that. In other words I'm saying thanks, TBBT, for letting me revisit middle school without feeling like a creeper.

Oh, please note that while I say things like "adorable" and "sweet", make no mistake, I do mean that in a "if Sheldon Cooper was a real person, I'd tap that" way. Okay, "tap" in this instance meaning I'd steal a chaste kiss and then watch him stare at me quizzically. Bow chica bow wowww.

God, I love nerds. They are the best.

Neeeeext up, from my new favorite show, Parks and Rec, Ben Wyatt.

The storyline with him and Leslie is pretty cute so far. Nothing like some good will they or won't they they totally obviously will is that a real question? action.

He is a no-brainer for me because Ben is the number one dude name I am into. Look, I don't know why. I just accept it. Although I think there was a musical did at the local theater, back in 3rd grade or some nonsense, and I had a demi-crush on some kid also in the musical, named Ben. I'm halfway sure about this. So there's a thought.

Moreover dude's got some luscious brunette hair, and they put him in skinny ties and a vast array of checkered shirts. Like he's in a friggin J.Crew catalog. That combination is something like stabbing my Achilles's heel with a shard of kryptonite.

I have saved the best for last.

Ron $#*&ing Swanson.

Soulful blue eyes. Power stache.

Hates enthusiasm and overachievers.

Loves steak.

Hopeless romantic.

Moonlights as sensual saxophonist "Duke Silver."



As I said, I'm pretty sure there's something wrong with me.

my hypothetical celebrity marriage

If genies were real and one popped out of like, a bottle of Snapple I was drinking (I figured the Snapple makes this more realistic somehow) I would immediately be so overwhelmed by the possibilities, the fear of making a terrible wish, and the potential bite-you-in-the-ass "careful what you wish for" repercussions. I would just have a nervous breakdown from all the pressure and stress, go nutso like Ophelia and kill myself. Just thinking about impossible hypothetical scenarios stresses me out, even though it's supposed to be telling, harmless fun.

The one, THE ONE exception to this, is if you ask me something like "Shan, if you could marry any person in the whole wide world, who would it be?" And to that, my friends, I answer: Joshua Groban.

There is nothing douchebaggy or offensive about Josh Groban. If I were reading The Chronicles of Narnia right now I'd be picturing J.Grobes as Mr. Tumnus. Also, a bunny could probably beat up Josh Groban.

But you know what? He is so not badass that he is actually badass. He is almost impossibly cheesy, inspirational, and geeky, but he's so tongue-in-cheek about it that the end result is someone just so... affable, unpretentious, and surprisingly hilarious. Like Tina Fey, he's a poster child for wholesomeness, and maybe that's my favorite kind of person--because, conversely, I'm kind of an asshole.

J.G.'s twitter account, which is a giant procrastination device for me, has basically convinced Jackie and me that if we actually knew the guy we would pretty much be the best of friends (he would also fit nicely into our fold of Mason Gross friends). His tweets please me and I strongly identify with them.
Like, "Today is one of those 'I really should get back to learning the bagpipe' kind of days." or 
"Gyro from a corner street vendor- 4$. The warmth of a chorus of grease covered angels singing "nom nom nom!" down my esophagus- priceless."


The best aspect of this hypothetical marriage is that he would sing at the wedding. I challenge you to top that. He would look at me with those honest, clear eyes and sing "When You Say You Love Me" at our SUPER BADASS WEDDING (which would have only the awesomest of celebrities like Ellen Degeneres and Michael Buble). And, oh God, sweet Jesus, I'd make sure he gets his bro ANDREA BOCELLI to sing as well, and that would be perfection.


Final point:

"Shan Nayyar" does not really have a ring to it

Good: I woke up at 7:15 today
Bad: I have been laying around in PJ pants watching season 4 of The Big Bang Theory. Drats.
Well, it's been that, along with looking at the twitter accounts of some of the TBBT cast members (God, I hate when I start looking at twitter accounts. Last week I was trapped in the tweet vortex of Community's Donald Glover).

Okay okay, I was primarily creeping on Kunal Nayyar, whose unfortunate wardrobe on the show betrays the fact that he's actually smokin'. Actually his wardrobe really is upsetting because it's so sweater vest heavy (and nothing makes me swoon like some sweater vest action, am I right ladies?) but it's always clashy on purpose, and they layer him up bulkily. I think concealing goodlookingness (see: Matt Damon in The Informant) and abusing sweater vests are among the GREATEST OFFENSES in the world, but I understand that they're dressing a character. A character that likes Bridget Jones' Diary, I might add.

Yasee, what happened was, after watching however many episodes of the show, I came to the epiphany that "Dr. Rajesh Koothrappali" is actually crazy crazy adorable, did my internet creeping, and then I delighted in the fact that my suspicions were totally correct. There are few things more satisfying than being proved right. But I'm also aware of the fact that I'm gushing like a little girl, so I will promptly desist.

Right after I express that for years I have been convinced there's no way an Indian accent could ever be sexy. I thought it was one of those universal truths like Cheese Improves All Foods. So now I'm biting my tongue, and conceding the fact that sometimes being proved wrong feels so right.

Okay, lastly an actor-y soundbite from the dude, who was born in London, raised in New Delhi, and moved to the US for college. "...I'm this world citizen stuck in the middle. You're always one foot in, one foot out. I've traveled the world; I can speak different languages. I get along with everyone, every single culture, but that's one thing I've found about myself, that I'm always slightly stuck in between." Ahah, see how I somehow managed to make girly gushing fit in with my blog's credo?