An Open Letter to my Imaginary Friend....

I'm imagining a bunch of people who have no reason to give a crap about this reading it, and the one person I'd like to read it... not. Life is hilarious.

*Ahem: Addendum and disclaimer. I talk A LOT about communication. I am in fact a communication junkie. Not being able to communicate when I want to is tremendously frustrating to me. 

I just sent a tweet to my favourite celebrity:

Because I am basically incorrigible.

I call him my Imaginary Friend, to assuage my annoyance that this person who I have complicated reasons for enjoying interacting with knows next to nothing about me and is unlikely to ever reciprocate any platonic feelings I have. Bloody annoying. Especially since I really have no justification at all for being annoyed. Look, I also find him pretty sexy, but that's more or less irrelevant. A hell of a lot of why I find him sexy is his mind. It's humanity and intelligence that I find sexy. And a sense of humour. Oh yes, he's quite pretty too, but if he was a dick I wouldn't care about that.

Wil Wheaton. He's a pretty awesome guy.

We should all follow this instruction.

I like lots of actors for a myriad of reasons. I don't usually bother to get in the least perturbed by the non-relationship I have with them. I'm not actually a crazy stalker, though I may occasionally pretend to be one for comedic purpose. I am a terror for a cheap laugh. And sometimes an expensive one. Tony and I have a running joke over he and I not having, not having sex with our respective celebrity "crushes". (that doubled up sentence was not a mistake) - this running conversation goes along these lines:

"I WAS NOT HAVING SEX WITH HIM FIRST!"  "WELL I'M ONLY NOT BEING FRIENDS WITH HIM SO TAKE A CHILL PILL, I'M NOT HAVING SEX WITH THIS OTHER GUY, ALRIGHT?"

The joys of liking a person you know it's ridiculous to even bother liking. Fandom really is a strange thing. Humanity develops connections with people it has no business developing connections with. And occasionally we hope for a fairytale ending that's actually pretty ridiculous, since the celebrities that we attach our affection to are seldom very much like the people we think they are. We think that social media gives us a window into their existence, but it only opens the window to what they want us to see - usually - we still know very little about them as complete people. That's what's making me frustrated in this instance. I find that I'd LIKE to know the whole person, because the window I've been allowed to see through intrigues me. 

Kitty and I went to Armageddon Expo this year, the first Con I've taken her to. I paid for celebrity photos and everything because, what the hell - YOLO*. There was no simple way to decide who I would fork over a frankly stupid amount of money for us to be photographed with (we wanted to do it together - as Mother and Daughter go, we like each others company far too much) Armageddon saved us the trouble by having a double team that made us BOTH happy. Sadly I look like CRAP in the photo - long day, illness playing up quite a bit... but I'd made Karl and Katee laugh just before the shot was taken so WE GOT A GREAT PICTURE...

OMG I have both Katee Sackhoff AND Karl Urban's arms around me. SQUEEE....

But I like these guys in the routine boring "OMG, STARBUCK" kind of way... Actually no, to be fair... Karl is a Kiwi and my relationship with Kiwi celebrities is complex because we Kiwis are a bit odd. He's family in an odd kind of way. I follow quite a few Kiwi *names* on twitter, and I chat to them as normally as I do to people I know personally. I tease David Farrier for the hilarious and adorable dweeb that he is. I openly show John Campbell all the love because he's been a good boy and deserves getting the cousin like friendly pat on the back. And Karl with his slight air of distance and smirk of a man who knows slightly too well how awesome he is...well I told his girlfriend about his early career in TV in New Zealand. Because family occasionally needs to embarrass you back into line. If I'd really been that fucking obsessed with either one of them I'd have made damn sure I was wearing an appropriate fandom shirt. Instead of my very favourite geeky tee. VOTE SAXON. People who have to ask what this is from will be frowned upon. John Simm... I might completely lose my ability to be *cool* about celebrity around him. After all, the geekiest tattoo in the world is on my shoulder, and it's about him. Well, about The Master. But *HIS* Master.

Sexy and he knows it.

But the point of this is about the inability to tell the ones that mean something to you, for whatever reason, that you care about them on some normal level WITHOUT SOUNDING LIKE A MAD AS SHIT BUNNY BOILING STALKER TYPE. So I find myself looking at a person that I genuinely want to try to turn into a friend, with no power whatsoever to even TRY to. Oh sure I can be witty, charming, amusingly crazy... all the things that are me. Also arrogant. But those are also all the things that offer zero evidence of my not being an insane fan with a bottle of ether behind my back. And I can't in the least fault any celebrity for not wanting to risk befriending a fan they've never even met, solely on the basis of them occasionally manage to raise a laugh. Funny people can still be insane people.

Insane people can still be friends...

But as I said to my Imaginary Friend, I hate writing fan letters. I've been talked into it twice. Once when I was a teenager and all my stupid friends wanted to write to some jackass and so I HAD TO (something, something best writer something blah blah blah.... little did they know that because I didn't give a crap my *fan* letter was actually pretty... not-fan-y) and then much more recently I was talked into it as a nice gesture to a celebrity who does a hell of a lot of good work.... but again I didn't overly care (I cared that he did good things, I just didn't care about writing to him. I'm not really the ego polishing kind). I like Twitter in a lot of respects, I can send short messages of approval, or derision or flirting or whatever to celebrities and I don't have to feel the vague sensation of nausea I get when I start writing an ego buffing piece.

I know this is how I'd react to fan mail.

The things that I look for in a friend are there in this one. Humanity, intelligence, humour. A great smile. OK the great smile doesn't matter a damn, but Paul's is in a league of it's own. I have no idea exactly what it is that makes me really want to get to know you Paul, but SOMETHING. Some combination of things that makes me see a like soul. M'anama-chara.

So, my sweet, one-sided penpal. Here's the thing. I'd love to meet you, but here I am at the bottom of the world - unlikely to any time soon. Those long conversations losing track of time seem unlikely to occur without an unnatural occurrence. I'd love the opportunity to become proper friends. One day. I'd love for you to follow me. But. I won't pay for it, I won't demand it, I won't even ask for it. I won't suck up to you. Because what would be the point in any of that? I like you, I'd like to try to be friends with you - what I manage to see around the edges of your quite good walls is a guy I think I'd get along with. But it's worth nothing to me to have you follow me for any reason other than because you want to. I hope that one day you'll decide that you like me enough to risk trying to get to know a fan. One can only do what one can do. One will not give in mind you *grin*.

Does this look like the sort of girl who quits?

It's a BEAUTIFUL FEELING

Peace. Out.

* Bahahhahahaha I finally found a reason to use YOLO in a blog!

Hypocrisy, hypocrisy, all is hypocrisy

*Quite a lot about me. Quite sexually oriented, though not so bad that Kitty needs to stay the hell out of it. Less swearing.

So, I'm a bit of a slapper. Verbally at least. It's not a secret, I'm an incorrigible flirt with a filthy filthy mouth. 

And sometimes people call me out on it, probably not unjustifiably - because I'll bitch and moan about the asshole in the Holden, that yells out "hey, wanna fuck" at me or worse AT MY DAUGHTER (seriously guys, don't do that - I have rage control issues). But then I catch myself saying things like "And I swear it's not just because I want in John Simms pants". 

Is there really a difference? Is the douche in the hood car any more serious or disgusting than I'm being? I know I'm not really being serious, I know that if I actually MET John Simm I would be nothing but polite, ok probably somewhat gushy and maybe even flirty but that's really just ME. I would certainly not actually be trying to get into his pants. Even if he is competely Lush. But that's the thing isn't it - John Simm doesn't know that I'm being less serious than the douche in the hood car, and worse he doesn't get any say because he'll probably never know I said it. Wait is that worse? I DON'T EVEN KNOW ANYMORE.

Recently Kit Harrington (Jon Snow - GoT) spoke out about how it squicked him being sexually objectified by fans - and he got shouted down for it, by hordes of women in a righteous fury that he had "no idea what it was really like to be sexually objectified". Didn't he? He gets pretty damned objectified. I've heard girls talking about Jon Snow as if the cunnilingus scene was the only actual thing he did. Others talking about shirtless scenes as if he has no value with his clothes on. Yes women take this crap a lot more regularly, but that doesn't invalidate his experiences. In some ways I really think he should have been allowed to have his say, entirely: because male actors more than any other male group DO get a lot of sexual crap. A lot of it very much the same as the shit I put up with on the street every fucking day. Perhaps men understanding that guys don't bloody like it either will bridge some of the gap between this bullshit attitude of "it's just a compliment, why do you have to get so fucking uptight about it?" and "JESUS FUCKING WEPT WHY DON'T YOU JUST UNDERSTAND THAT WE DON'T LIKE IT AND SHUT THE FUCK UP ALREADY???". 

I don't have a major problem with wolf whistles from building sites - though I fully understand women who do. I do mind if the same builders start yelling things. No matter how fucking "complimentary" they think they're being. I'm not sure why "nice tits love" is even supposed to be overly complimentary. Possibly I'm at a loss because I find the contents of your brain a lot more interesting than the contents of your pants. Though the contents of your brain may increase my interest in the contents of your pants. What can I say, I'm complicated. I guess it's a bit hard to shout "fucking sexy cerebellum girl" when you've never exchanged words. I think there's a large gap between someone I know at least a bit telling me I look sexy and a douche on the street telling me he wants to fuck me. Which is seriously revolting by the way guys. Never do it. The only bonus it has as far as I'm concerned is it legitimately identifies people that I literally never want to have sex with. It's like random drunks in bars telling me how huge their cock is. Thanks I don't need to see it now. 

I guess that's the other interesting thing about me and attraction to random celebrities I've never met. It's not random. There's a distinct pattern of; person whos' looks catch my attention, who I then become interested in knowing better so I watch interviews and such, then as I get a feel for their innate humanity and their intellect some of them become spectacularly attractive to me. Paul Blackthorne, current unlucky celeb of my heart, captured my attention first for his thoroughly excellent performances. Then after following him on twitter and Facebook I started getting a picture of his decency and basic niceness, and as I started to make jokes that he responded to, I started to get a picture of a mind I liked. THAT IS SO FUCKING HOT. Seriously, someone I could walk for miles with without noticing the miles because we were so engrossed in conversation? Jesus I could take that home and screw it senseless for the rest of it's natural life. Sorry. Sorry. DID I just shout "nice boots, wanna fuck"* out of the window of my fully restored Triumph Stag at you? Sorry. I'm still trying to establish lines in my head here. Also I'm not good at lines.

I guess what I'm saying is that I need to have the sense of someones personality before I start saying flirty outrages like that. I feel vaguely bad about the lovely Mr Simm because I know that he struggles with the attention of fans, and I'm sure he would turn 17 shades of red to hear this random slapper-fan talking about him like that. Sigh, he'd probably be just as weirded out by this fan saying that I'd love to get inside his brain. Shy actors. WTF even is that? 

Mr Blackthorne I feel less remorse over, and he's brought it on himself the little menace. I mean it buster - if you don't like me shamelessly flirting at you then favouriting those tweets is possibly a mistake. Haven't quite figured out if my interest in the contents of his brain is more or less disturbing to this one - working on it. I'LL MAKE FRIENDS WITH YOU IF IT BLOODY KILLS ME MATEY BOY. 

Even when I was a teenager, back in the dawn of time, I didn't really understand my friends getting all warm and wet over these basically random people. I would find myself interested in people that NONE of them cared a jot about, because they were interesting people. I've always lived inside my head, I guess I've just always been looking for someone who can get in there with me. Guys keep failing me in this area. Even the bloody intellectual for Christ sakes, and why? Because he was too fucking busy inside his own goddamn head. HOW FUCKING UNREASONABLE. To be fair he appears to still be fairly stuck inside his own head so it was never something we were going to be able to iron out. (That was faux-bitterness by the way, just in case you're reading this silly. Being able to recognise my humour was not one of your strong suits either.) 

When I was 17 I went to the first concert I was allowed to go to sans parents. Crowded House. I love those guys. I loved them then, still love them now. Why did I love them then? Initially because the lyrics spoke to me, as odd as they often were. Also they could actually play their instruments, which made for a charming change from many of the noise polluters available. After the show, I was stink hot and very anti social, because I had been pressed up against the speaker banks by morons for most of the evening. So I waited for the town hall to clear and jumped up on the edge of the stage to take a rest before going out into the milling crowd again. Which is about when the bassist came out to get something. Nick Seymour. He stopped and chatted to me for a bit. I guess a short skinny 17 year old isn't an overly threatening sight. I went from thinking they were a cool band to being head over heels for the bassist in ten minutes. He was an artist and a shy comedian. How could I not love him? From here comes my love of the bass guitar. My friends probably thought I was completely mad, but at least I was drooling over a musician like a proper teenager. The friend I went to the concert with was ready to kill me, because she went to the loo while I had my breather and MISSED THE WHOLE THING. 

Anyway, back on task - the point of talking about high school was that, scrubbers that we were (I'm lying we were those awful nice girls) we never really talked about the objects of our affections in crass sexual terms. A bit of quiet tittering about snogging was about as rough as it gets. But I hear my daughters friends and I wonder - were we just painfully backward and the other girls were talking about Simon LeBon's knob or are teenagers today a lot more open about their naughty fantasies? I'd go and ask the other girls from high school but they were mostly bitches and I have gratefully lost contact with them. I suspect the later. Kitty and her mates seem to have a lot more frankness about them than I remember from those awkward years. Thank the Gods. It may not be entirely awesome for them to be talking openly about whatever that douche from One Direction's name is knob but I am glad that they talk about many other aspects of sexuality and even boring old human function. We all pretended we didn't have bodies in those days, except when we were trying to make our boobs look bigger on Friday nights. Honest talk is better.

But I do occasionally stray into the mentions of celebrities to see what other people are saying (I'm a people watcher, have been since I was about 4 - people never cease to amaze me) and frankly some of it shocks this sexual harrassment panda. SERIOUSLY between all the "I love you"'s (you don't know them douchewad) and the "please follow me"'s (do fuck off, YOU ARE NOBODY and you sound like a stalker) lie the creepy creepy bastard with the "MARRY ME"'s (stage 1 crazy bastards) the "I want your penis inside me"'s (stage 2 crazy bastards) and the "if you don't acknowledge me I'll kill myself"'s (DEF CON ONE). These people actually make me feel better about my mild lunacy. I am positively sane beside these should-be-committed types. And I'm not sane. And at least I'm FUNNY.
I assume many of these whack jobs to be merely teenagers who aren't doing so great with their hormones. And have that frankness about them that I mentioned earlier. Because who the hell SAYS these things. I faintly remember wishing I could hang off the arm off Nick Seymour and be the one he went home with, but actually say that out loud to him??? No fucking way. He'd think I was fucking crazy. And with good reason. And today, yeah I'll say some stupid flirty nonsense...

... See, I told you he bloody asks for it. (For non twitterers, this is a "favourite" from the big man himself, NEVER ENCOURAGE THE INCORRIGIBLE mwahahahahahaha.) So yeah, I'll flirt a little. I'll even occasionally be a little too familiar or flippant without really meaning to be. But no penises. No suicide threats. No marriage demands. No I love you's, without disclaimer that I don't mean it in a more than fraternal sense. No follow demands, if you follow me it will be because you want to because it's worth nothing otherwise.

I don't yell sexual innuendos at strangers. In fact I don't make any kind of sexy talk at total strangers. That's very fucking creepy. Hell I'm actually pretty lousy at getting started with someone I actually know. I don't even make overt sexual comments directly to those celebs that take my fancy. I will use terms of endearment all the time, but I also do that with other people I care about. I have the biggest heart in the world, and once you're in it, you're in it. Forever. I do occasionally say things like "I'D FUCK HIM" to friends, but I don't really mean it, or I do mean it but would never actively do anything about it without signals that they wanted me to. I guess this is where my line is, I can joke or boast a bit as long as I know I would never actually put that person in a compromising position. And as long as I feel like I maintain respect. It's a pretty fuzzy line from the outside, from the inside I assure you it's solid as a fucking rock. I met Karl Urban (Holy SHIT sizzle) and Katee Sackhoff (equally sizzle, GODDAMN) recently and I'm pretty sure I flirted considerably more with her than him. To reiterate I am as boringly straight as it gets. OK not that straight. I remember thanking him for bringing up the fact that the rest of the country has pretty much forgotten that Christchurch is still a giant carpark courtesy of the Canterbury Earthquakes. I remember telling him that I had been super glad when he was cast in the role of Bones McCoy because holy shit I was scared about the casting for Star Trek. (N E R  D) I also remember gushing like a moron at OMG STARBUCK. Because OMG STARBUCK. Then I told Katee how Karl got his big break on fucking SHORTLAND STREET as Jamie the Ambulance Driver. (He'd already been outed by the audience during the panel, but it was such fun to bring it up with him right there.) Then we had our photo taken and I swear there was not a better smile out of the pair of them all day. Also Kitty had the look you'd expect from a teenager who has her arm wrapped around the luscious Karl Urban. "Holy fuck are my friends going to be jealous".

The moral of this tale, from my perspective is; don't be a fucking creep about your "affections" (I'm am using that term extremely broadly here, because frankly someone you just saw on the street surely doesn't have THAT much of your affection) remember that the person you're directing your attention at is a person, not a piece of meat and deserves the same respect you'd want shown to you. Now just because you might THINK that you would like that kind of attention doesn't mean either that you actually would when it's the 50th time some random douchebag has told you they'd like to stick their head up your skirt or that they're in the mood for it RIGHT NOW. Appropriateness people. Appropriateness. 

Peace. Out.