Top Ten: Older Men I Have to Have

10.) Michael JordanI grew up in the late 1980’s and early 1990’s, when MJ was on top. I saw him slam dunk, try his bat for grand slams, and get looney in Space Jam. There is nothing this man cant do. Including win the heart of a 22 year old.

9.) Sean Connery – I know. He’s a little before my time, but while that makes some men, well, old, it just makes Sean timeless. Throw a killer Scottish accent on him, and you’ve got this pale, freckled girl’s heart racing.

8.) John Stamos – Even his mullet was hot. Even as a little girl – I was in the third grade when Full House ended its run – I watched my favorite TV show for two reasons. 1.) Because I’m the same age as the Olsen twins and I liked to pretend we were total BFFS. 2.) I knew as an 8-year old, that Uncle Jesse was God’s gift to TGIF.

7.) Bill Clinton – Is it creepy that I’m writing this while wearing a blue dress . . . at my internship? Honestly, I just love this man. I know he’s a cheating, misogynist kinda guy, and I should hate him, but something about that just makes him all the more intriguing.

6.) Brad Pitt You may say that Brad Pitt doesn’t count as an “older man.” Well, I’m 22, and I say he does. Because if I came home with Brad Pitt, two things would happen. 1.) My father would take him to the back 40 with his favorite backhoe. 2.) My Auntie M (who’s about four decades my senior) would attempt to dig him back up and run away with him.

5.) Denzel Washington – I contemplated not even putting his last name in the listing. That’s how iconic and gorgeous this man is. He’s just Denzel. I cant quite put my finger on the exact moment I fell in love with him, but I’ll tell you the day I’ll fall out of love with him: Never. Never-ever-ever.

4.) Pierce Brosnan I feel as though there’s no explanation needed here. Have you read my The Price is Wrong post?

3.) George Clooney – Paging Dr. Ross. This blogger seems to have stopped breathing. Could you please assist her with some mouth-to-mouth resuscitation? I grew up getting shoved off to bed before 10 p.m. on Thursdays so my mother could have an hour to herself watching ER. I think I saw her try to make out with the TV once . . .

2 .) Anderson CooperI know what you’re thinking. I might not be his type, right? Look, all I have to say is, this is Anderson Cooper, and I’m an aspiring journalist, and I appreciate him on approximately 14 different levels. Though I admit, 12 of those levels have to do with his hair and/or eyes.

1.) Richard GereAn Officer and a Gentleman was filmed four years before I was born, and I think I knew, in-utero, that he is the single most amazing combination of X and Y chromosomes ever to walk this earth. Richard, if you’re reading this, I just want you to know, I would resort to a life of turning tricks, just to one day see you scale my fire escape.


Saddle Up: I’m Back In

She's Back!

She's back!

I’m the girl with the tattoo of a number-two pencil – the girl who would slip a work-in-progress novel beneath her math notebook in the eighth grade so she could write without the teacher noticing.

I’m the girl who sent letter after letter to her favorite author in the first grade, until she finally responded with a pink post card.

I’m the girl who got in trouble for starting a sentence with “And” in the first grade, only to tell her teacher, “It’s not that I don’t know the rules. Dr. Seuss said in an interview once, that once you know the rules, you need to start breaking them.”

I’m that girl.

When I was in college (I hate this phrase. Not only does it make me feel old to say it, though I only graduated four months ago, it also makes me feel as though I’m one of those washed-up, gas-pumping former quarterbacks yearning for the glory days), I got to write all the time.

There was news class for my news writing, The Student Voice, for the occasional column or features article, and women’s studies for 7-page academic papers about the feelings inspired by menarche. Not a week went by without at least 10 pages of writing.

Sigh. Ok. I’m a washed-up, gas-pumping former quarterback.

I went from being the girl who would spend her spare hours in the library, reading and writing, tabbing her text books, and pleasure reads with colored sticky-notes, marking a passage, paragraph or phrase that inspired me to a couch potato.

I think I lost that loving feeling.

Exhibit One: I didn’t even remember my password to log into my blog. It’s been that long.

Exhibit Two: I haven’t read a whole book since I graduated in May. I want to, believe me, but for some reason I just cant motivate myself to actually do it. Maybe it’s because my light switch is so far away from my bed, or because I’m so tired at night – either way, I have gotten halfway through three separate books without taking the plunge with any of them.

Exhibit Three: While I used to have a devout allegiance to only one show on television (R.I.P. Gilmore Girls, I will love you forever), my roomies and I now spend a considerable amount of our evening hours wrapped up in prime-time entertainment.

I have a favorite tiny tot on John and Kate Plus 8it’s Aaden in case you were wondering, he’s just so cute with his big head and tiny glasses – and grew visibly upset when my favorite Top Model contestant was given the stiletto boot last night. I defend Kenley‘s designs on Project Runway, devour the vapid and trashy weekly action on 90210, and admittedly cant get enough Privileged. I even recently signed up for a Netflix account so I could watch the previous season’s Gossip Girl, and get on the ball with what’s going on now. And don’t forget the season premiere of The Office tonight.

I know this is a lot of dirty laundry to air in a blog, but I just feel as though healthy relationships cannot sustain themselves without a high regard for honesty. So I’m going to take the leap. I’m committing myself to getting back to my non-washed up, touch-down-pass throwing self.