So today I realized that I need a hobby. I'm 20 years old and really the only love life I have is Borders Guy whose first name I don't even know, and I actually haven't even talked to him, ok, do I don't have a love life, all I do is run, don't judge me. But I've come up with something to occupy my time and my love. I am going to stalk Gerard Butler.
Lovely man, isn't he? And it's the closest I can get to stalking the Phantom of the Opera, so there we have it. My new hobby.
So i figured that it would be pretty easy, just call him up or something! So I haul ass to the nearest payphone and flip through the pages to the "B" section. Here, cramped in a phone-booth a la Clark Kent, without the changing into a superhero thing, I run into my first hurdle.
You see, I've run track for almost 6 years of my life, and I have come to one of many conclusion, I'm not a hurdler. When faced with a hurdle on the track, I laugh hysterically at the joke my coaches and/or teammates are playing on me and walk around it.
So here I am in a phone-booth laughing hysterically and trying to figure out how to hurdle 3 pages of Butlers, not literally of course. I figure the only thing to do is to start calling. Now though, the question is: my cell phone? or the pay-phone?
Cell phone it is, I have no change.
I rip out the 3 pages and book it back to my apartment thinking dreamily of his scottish voice when he answers the phone and A: asks me to marry him, or B: starts singing Phantom songs. Either would be fine with me.
20 minutes later -
So far, I've contacted 2 Butlers from the list, I think I ordered Italian takeout from one and I had a lovely conversation with the other one, a man named Thomas I think. His first grandaughter was just born and we had a lovely conversation about her. Her name is Madeline and she looks just like her mother when her mother was a baby.
I also got a pretty good recipe for stuffed cabbage from his wife Carrine.
45 minutes later -
I am losing hope, I've called everyone on the first page.... well, the first column on the first page, and none of them were named "Gerard" or even "Gerry." But the Italian food finally came and it's very very good. I'll have to order again some time, now where did I put that number.....
2 hours later -
I've become distracted from my mission. Instead of finishing the first page of the Butlers, I've looked up facts about my beloeved Gerry.
1. born in 1969, ok so he's a little old for me. but age is only a number when it comes to true love!
2. His mother was named Margaret as well! We already have a connection!
3. he may have a girlfriend.... damn....
After that last fact I heated up my pasta left overs and sat my fat ass down on the couch to watch a movie.
Why not TV you ask? Cause we don't have cable in this godforsaken apartment.
Well, as I was watching Laura Croft Tomb Raider: Cradle of Life, and drooling over Gerry's beautiful eyes, I decided to try some more Butlers from the phone book pages.
2 hours later-
I've just put in Phantom of the Opera and sit down to start page 2.
Halfway down page 2, a woman picks up the phone and has an accent that isn't American.
"Hi, is someone named Gerard or Gerry live there?"
"Oh yes, may I ask whose calling?"
....
FUCK!
I scrambled over my couch and land with a thud on the ugly brown carpeting and spill my soymilk everywhere. O well, it couldn't be any uglier. I mean the first week I move in the manager is all 'yeah we'll replace the carpeting!' and I'm all 'sweet!' thinking that they're going to put in some nice beige-y color or something. But no, I walk in and find the exact same color laying across the apartment like a very neatly laid out shit. Really? Is it neccessary to put in the ugliest shade of carpeting ever? I thought my grandparents shag green carpeting was ugly and I was only 10 years old, but this? This is like a giant dog came and craped all over our floor, then a giant cat came and coughed up some nicely mowed fur balls.
Anyways, I digress...
After I hit the floor and my soymilk went flying, I reached up and pressed the pause button on the DVD player, pausing just when Christine is ripping the mask of Gerry's face and is screaming in horror.
Oh Gerry, I would still love you if you were hideously disfigured, just wear that half mask and sing to me.
"Hello? Hello? Are you alright?" I hear the woman's voice over the phone and bring it to my ear.
"Yes, sorry. My... er... dog got loose.... I had to um... catch him before he ate... um... the clicker..."
I hear her laugh over the phone and she repeats her previous question.
"Um, Margaret, tell him Margaret it calling."
I hear her put the phone down and a muffled conversation in the background. I held my breath and hoped for the best.
"Hello? This is Gerry speaking."
"Hi! Gerard Butler?"
"Yes, may I help you?"
"Are you the actor?"
He laughed and I hoped he wasn't laughing at my question.
"I'm sorry, I'm not. But if it makes you feel any better I get that alot."
Fek me. He was fekking American, happily married to a nice British Lady. We had a nice chat though, he was very understanding to my plight and I heard some hilarious stories about his and his wife's pomeranian "Minnie." His wife gave me a recipie for some "wicked snickerdoodles"and they wished me luck in my stalking endevors of the aformentioned actor.
But alas, I think my stalking days, or should I say day, are over. Maybe another time, when I don't have stuffed cabbage and wicked snickerdoodles to make.
Until next time Gerry. Just you wait!
**Disclaimer: "Stalking Gerard Butler" is a work of fiction brought to life by a very bored college student who watched too many movies. It was inspired by a work of fiction I read called "Stalking Alan Rickman" but all the links to it I am finding now are broken. I really hope you have enjoyed a trip to the inside of my jumbled mind and please keep all articles, legs and arms inside the vehicle at all times on your trip back to reality. Thank you and have a good day... er... evening. And please don't worry, I have never, nor probably will never stalk Gerard Butler... no matter how tempted to do so I am.
Lovely man, isn't he? And it's the closest I can get to stalking the Phantom of the Opera, so there we have it. My new hobby.
So i figured that it would be pretty easy, just call him up or something! So I haul ass to the nearest payphone and flip through the pages to the "B" section. Here, cramped in a phone-booth a la Clark Kent, without the changing into a superhero thing, I run into my first hurdle.
You see, I've run track for almost 6 years of my life, and I have come to one of many conclusion, I'm not a hurdler. When faced with a hurdle on the track, I laugh hysterically at the joke my coaches and/or teammates are playing on me and walk around it.
So here I am in a phone-booth laughing hysterically and trying to figure out how to hurdle 3 pages of Butlers, not literally of course. I figure the only thing to do is to start calling. Now though, the question is: my cell phone? or the pay-phone?
Cell phone it is, I have no change.
I rip out the 3 pages and book it back to my apartment thinking dreamily of his scottish voice when he answers the phone and A: asks me to marry him, or B: starts singing Phantom songs. Either would be fine with me.
20 minutes later -
So far, I've contacted 2 Butlers from the list, I think I ordered Italian takeout from one and I had a lovely conversation with the other one, a man named Thomas I think. His first grandaughter was just born and we had a lovely conversation about her. Her name is Madeline and she looks just like her mother when her mother was a baby.
I also got a pretty good recipe for stuffed cabbage from his wife Carrine.
45 minutes later -
I am losing hope, I've called everyone on the first page.... well, the first column on the first page, and none of them were named "Gerard" or even "Gerry." But the Italian food finally came and it's very very good. I'll have to order again some time, now where did I put that number.....
2 hours later -
I've become distracted from my mission. Instead of finishing the first page of the Butlers, I've looked up facts about my beloeved Gerry.
1. born in 1969, ok so he's a little old for me. but age is only a number when it comes to true love!
2. His mother was named Margaret as well! We already have a connection!
3. he may have a girlfriend.... damn....
After that last fact I heated up my pasta left overs and sat my fat ass down on the couch to watch a movie.
Why not TV you ask? Cause we don't have cable in this godforsaken apartment.
Well, as I was watching Laura Croft Tomb Raider: Cradle of Life, and drooling over Gerry's beautiful eyes, I decided to try some more Butlers from the phone book pages.
2 hours later-
I've just put in Phantom of the Opera and sit down to start page 2.
Halfway down page 2, a woman picks up the phone and has an accent that isn't American.
"Hi, is someone named Gerard or Gerry live there?"
"Oh yes, may I ask whose calling?"
....
FUCK!
I scrambled over my couch and land with a thud on the ugly brown carpeting and spill my soymilk everywhere. O well, it couldn't be any uglier. I mean the first week I move in the manager is all 'yeah we'll replace the carpeting!' and I'm all 'sweet!' thinking that they're going to put in some nice beige-y color or something. But no, I walk in and find the exact same color laying across the apartment like a very neatly laid out shit. Really? Is it neccessary to put in the ugliest shade of carpeting ever? I thought my grandparents shag green carpeting was ugly and I was only 10 years old, but this? This is like a giant dog came and craped all over our floor, then a giant cat came and coughed up some nicely mowed fur balls.
Anyways, I digress...
After I hit the floor and my soymilk went flying, I reached up and pressed the pause button on the DVD player, pausing just when Christine is ripping the mask of Gerry's face and is screaming in horror.
Oh Gerry, I would still love you if you were hideously disfigured, just wear that half mask and sing to me.
"Hello? Hello? Are you alright?" I hear the woman's voice over the phone and bring it to my ear.
"Yes, sorry. My... er... dog got loose.... I had to um... catch him before he ate... um... the clicker..."
I hear her laugh over the phone and she repeats her previous question.
"Um, Margaret, tell him Margaret it calling."
I hear her put the phone down and a muffled conversation in the background. I held my breath and hoped for the best.
"Hello? This is Gerry speaking."
"Hi! Gerard Butler?"
"Yes, may I help you?"
"Are you the actor?"
He laughed and I hoped he wasn't laughing at my question.
"I'm sorry, I'm not. But if it makes you feel any better I get that alot."
Fek me. He was fekking American, happily married to a nice British Lady. We had a nice chat though, he was very understanding to my plight and I heard some hilarious stories about his and his wife's pomeranian "Minnie." His wife gave me a recipie for some "wicked snickerdoodles"and they wished me luck in my stalking endevors of the aformentioned actor.
But alas, I think my stalking days, or should I say day, are over. Maybe another time, when I don't have stuffed cabbage and wicked snickerdoodles to make.
Until next time Gerry. Just you wait!
**Disclaimer: "Stalking Gerard Butler" is a work of fiction brought to life by a very bored college student who watched too many movies. It was inspired by a work of fiction I read called "Stalking Alan Rickman" but all the links to it I am finding now are broken. I really hope you have enjoyed a trip to the inside of my jumbled mind and please keep all articles, legs and arms inside the vehicle at all times on your trip back to reality. Thank you and have a good day... er... evening. And please don't worry, I have never, nor probably will never stalk Gerard Butler... no matter how tempted to do so I am.
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