Tuesday, August 24, 2010

Ode to Mr. Marshmallow

In November 2009, somewhere on a quiet airport tarmac in Paris, Kristen Stewart clutches Robert Pattinson's hand before boarding an airplane. Rob smiles.The Twitter whale was nearly speared and the internet imploded as the hearts of delusional  hopeful women around the world were shattered.

Let's give 'em something to talk about.

For the next nine months, the pair are hounded by the paparazzi. Despite Rob's desperate pleas and Kristen's attempts to blind them with the lasers she can apparently shoot from her middle fingers, the little picture-snapping parasites were relentless in their pursuit of THE photo. That photo. THE ONE that would bring the Twifandom to it's knees in either elation or despair, depending on your "Robsten/Nonsten" status.
And finally, in August 2010 on a street in Montreal, one of the heinous little bottom feeders finally captured the money shot.

Fuck it. I haven't seen you for two weeks and I WANT that mouth.
You had me at "fuck it".

Meanwhile, on a Holland America cruise ship bound for Alaska, occupied by approximately 1300 geriatric patients fresh out of hip replacement rehab and 500 batshit crazy Twilight Fans, Michael Welch is spotted canoodling repeatedly with a girl I can only describe as cuter than a newborn baby's bottom, and nobody...and I do mean, not ONE single person gives a flying fuck.
What? No love for Mr. Marshmallow? No illicit photos sold to the highest gossip site bidder?

Jesus Mama, what's with the huge rack?
I put the good bra on for you Mike.

Mike will be the first to admit that he lives in the deep dark shadow cast by the behemoth star power of Robert Pattinson. He even mentioned at our Q and A that he'd seen comments on videos and pictures of himself that stated, "He's handsome....just not swoonworthy."

Well Mike darlin', I beg to differ. I saw your sweet lil' buns in those dark wash jeans while you were chatting up the concierge at the hotel, and I'll be damned if I didn't choke on my Starbucks. Then, you turned around and smiled with those piercing blue eyes and I thought, "Bella, your prom night had serious hidden potential and you blew it. Newton totally would have popped your cherry and it would have been GOOD."

Mr. Welch, you have been agrediously underestimated.

Not "swoonworthy"? Are you girls fucking blind?!?

In all seriousness, I want you all to know that Micheal Welch is a true gentleman, and a real, genuine nice guy. He was brave enough to agree to be trapped on a cruise ship with rabid (occasionally emabrassingly immature) Twihards and he pulled it off with a grace and dignity that I'm not sure many men could muster.
His ridiculously sweet girlfriend tolerated a week of women staring, screaming, and ogling at her man. She was remarkably patient with those trying to monopolize her boy's time and attention. Did I mention she was adorable?

Plus - the dude has a healthy sense of humor. He knows he's riding a massive tidal wave that may never roll in again, and damnit if he doesn't plan to shred that wave all the way to the shore. He's not afraid to laugh at himself. He's self aware enough to know that if his acting career falls flat, he has a future as an '80's Karaoke performer.

Bohemain RIPsody

Every Twilight actor has a "signature move". Rob's is the sex-walk-paired-with-fuck-me-stare. Taylor's is the dazzling-smile-shirtless-ab-flex. Kristen's is the blinky-lip-bite.

Mike's is the "Bow-Chica-Wow-Wow" dance. It's genius, really. No special training or tree required.

Before I close, I just want to share a few more adorable "Mike" moments that have turned me into a lifelong Welch fan.

*  While playing a serious, Forest-Gump style round of ping-pong with his girl on the deck of the ship, an obviously starstruck teenage boy asked if he could play and Mike shook his hand, introduced himself and said "let's do this". What followed was one seriously badass game of ping-pong that had Mike dripping with sweat. I didn't ogle. I swear.

*  He very dutifully signed the absurdly silly t-shirt I brought along. He concentrated on his very best cursive handwriting, despite the fact that the fucktard behind me actually asked him if he'd be willing to sign her boob. I really, really wish I was kidding. Bitch is lucky I wasn't close to anything sharp or I may have ended up in the ship's brig or walking the plank, clutching said boob.

*  On our departure day, SeaTac airport was an asylum. Papa, Lil' Cougar and I wandered around for 30 minutes looking for a table to crash at so we could eat, and who did we stumble upon but Mike and his sweet pea girl as they were absorbed in one another, whisper-giggling. He leaned in and kissed her temple. I suppressed the "awwwww" threatening to escape my lips, when they looked up and recognized as as fellow Twi-Cruisers. Fighting what must have been an overwhelming urge to haul ass out of there, instead, they said "You can have our table...we're headed to our gate." We helped them clear the garbage, Mike thanked us and smiled, and we wished them a safe trip home. A normal exchange with a normal guy who just happens to have appeared in three of the biggest grossing films in the past two years.
Lil' Cougar and I give you a run-down of the Twilight Fans Cruise
Will we do this again? I don't know. The next Twilight Fans Cruise is scheduled in June 2011 and is a 10-Day Mediterranean jaunt that departs from Rome and features a post-cruise land excursion to Volterra AND Montepulciano.

I have two kids in college and one still at home.
And a mortgage.
And car payments.
And an impending pilgrimage to FFFFFOOORRRKKKSSS.

It's not looking likely, unless I hit a jackpot of some sort or win an out of court settlement in my current "emotional distress" lawsuit against my RV dealer.

So Mike, if you go on this one, I'll miss you. But don't worry, I'm a Welchaholic now. I'll even go see your creepy-ass new movie.


Deal, Mr. Marshmallow.