Gawt Damn

I'll set the scene for you: about two weeks ago, I was meeting a friend for lunch at the Ferry Building. (For non-San Franciscans, that's a big complex with frou frou food and other delicacy options) It was a relatively boring Friday not unlike any other, and as he got held up at work and was running late for our pre-determined meeting time, I had a little bit of time to kill. I decided to kill it the best way I know how: by drinking coffee! Since there is a Blue Bottle kiosk right there in the Ferry Building, I could happily go about that very task.

So I proceed towards the line, and can't help but notice a cute girl on crutches sitting near the espresso machine. She kind of perfectly strikes that balance between cute and hot. Like, you know she's good looking, and she knows she's good looking, but there's something in her overall look that doesn't emit that "Yes, I know I'm hot, please leave me the hell alone" vibe, which is very refreshing. So I'm standing there, staring at her while not trying to make it blatantly obvious that I'm staring at her. The whole time I can't shake the feeling that there's something slightly familiar about her.

At this point I feel it bears mention that I have a memory somewhat like a steel trap. I remember people. I remember a ton of people, and have much more ease remembering people if they happen to be attractive females. Some would call it a gift, I just call it a knack. But I digress.

The more I look at this girl in a polite way that is both non-stalkerish as well as non-pervy, I convince myself more and more that I have seen her before somewhere. In particular, her smile really strikes a chord with me. It could be that it's one of those incredibly cute smiles that somewhat coyly turns up just like so at the corners, but I can't help but feel there's more than that.

I'm still two people away from the register when they call her name to collect her coffee: Rachel.

Rachel.

Rachel..... hmmm....

I start scanning the memory banks, hoping for any flicker of recognition so that I can possibly strike up a "hey, I think I know you" conversation. Nothing. Granted, I had probably ten seconds to dig it up, but there wasn't even a little spark of recognition as she got up, gathered her coffee and hobbled away. I proceeded to order my coffee, and had a few minutes to let the name rattle around my head. Still, by the time my friend showed up, it still hadn't come to me.

Flash forward maybe twenty minutes or so, we're sitting at the table having lunch, and suddenly it hits me like a bolt out of the blue: Rachel! Rachel who was in my short story class my junior year of college! Rachel who used to have reddish hair, but now has it a sort of chestnut brown! Rachel who still wears glasses and still has that amazing smile that used to drive me nuts back in the day! Rachel who was friends with the two baseball players in the class, who may or may not have been an athelete herself! Rachel who I thought was awesome but it didn't matter because I had a girlfriend at the time! That Rachel.

The moral of this story: if you're really cute, chances are I will remember you damn near forever. Also, Rachel is incredibly cute, and got even cuter over the last eight or nine years.

That 'burns.

Damn, Kat Dennings. I thought we had something. I think you're one of those fun cute, quirky actresses. I am even moderately amused by your love for all things hamsters and other quirks. I'm willing to overlook the "I don't really drink" thing, and a handful of other eccentricities that come with fame and stardom and all that.

But then, on an otherwise fine and dandy kind of a day, I fire up the ol' Twitter machine, and what do I read?

This tripe.

Yeah, for serious.

What the hell? Sideburns? You're going to take issue with sideburns? Think about how many great and handsome fellas had sideburns: Elvis, James Dean, Don Mattingly, Dylan McKay, Justin Pierre, Morrissey, Chester A. Arthur, and yours truly just to name a few. I mean, with the exception of me, those are all pretty good lookin' fellas, all of whom have their distinctive facial features enhanced by sideburns.

Apparently, I was no the only person out there who read that and was somewhat up in arms about this whole sideburns-gate issue that arose on the Twitters. The uproar was so large that good ol' Kat had to post this follow-up, to which I say "Feh. I wouldn't want to be kissin' on anyone who didn't like sideburns anyhow. No matter how much of a tiny celeb crush I may have once harbored, it's gone now." Next thing I know she'll be bashing on bass guitars, Kerouac, black hoodies, and Wes Anderson films while she's at it.

So I say to all of you out there, grow your sideburns, rock those mutton-chops, and just dig into whatever kinds of facial hair accent you feel is right. The Sideburned Human League is there to get your back, no matter what celebrities might say about them!