Conversations With Zooey Deschanel
Zooey Daschanel has been making cameo appearances in my life all too often lately. Everywhere I go, I either see Zooey on a TV show, in a commercial, on a magazine cover, or even being prominently mentioned and discussed in the websites that I visit. The other night I walked through the living room and glanced at the TV: Zooey was on a panel of judges for some moronic television show. (I’m surprised that they have any contestants. The day Zooey Deschanel sits in judgement of me is the day I sit down and eat the barrel of a handgun for lunch.) But the real problem is that once you notice the ubiquity of a certain person, the less able you are to ignore it. I see Zooey Deschanel everywhere.
Of course, some guys would love the ability to see Zooey Deschanel everywhere. They’d carry around a tube of hand lotion for that very reason. I, however, am not one of these people. Don’t get me wrong, I can understand it. She’s an attractive enough woman (if you’re into the whole blue-eyes-the-size-of-manhole-covers look) and there’s a certain amount of curiosity involved too: Does that quirkiness translate to bed? I can understand it, but it doesn’t mean I’m going to be hiding in the bushes in her back yard any time soon. (You know the bushes I’m talking about. The ones about shoulder high to the right of where she has that hammock, but not the ones towards the back of her property where those fucking security lights are.)
Anyway, the non-stop Zooey-a-thon has begun to set my mind into motion. I’ve started wondering how she interacts with other people. If she got pulled over by a cop, would he find her behind the wheel operating an old-fashioned loom? Do her friends have to come over and help her move a stuffed rhino into her master bathroom? Just how quirky is Zooey Deschanel when the cameras aren’t on her?
And that line of thinking is what got me to thinking about what it would be like if Zooey was a personal friend of mine. This is how I think it would go:
Me: Mmmf… Hello?
Zooey: Rise and shine, sleepy-head!
Me: Zooey? What time is it?
Zooey: It’s 5:15, silly! Time to get up and look outside your window and into your front yard!
Me: Holy shit, Zooey, you can’t do this to me. It’s way too fucking early!
Zooey: Come now, Mr. Grumpy-Pants! I’ve got a surprise for you!
Me: Jesus… Ok, just a minute… What the fuck? Is…? Is that…?
Zooey: Hahaha! Yes! It’s a twenty foot suit of armor, and the knight is holding a giant novelty carrot! Isn’t that a hoot?
Me: Where the fuck do you find these things?
Zooey: No, not really, I just always wanted to say Zanzibar. But Sir Carrots: Do you love him or what?
Me: Zooey, is there a fucking gas leak in your house or something? You are not acting normal.
Zooey: Haha, no silly! Besides, who wants to be normal?
Me: At 5:15 in the fucking morning? I do! And another thing: My wife is starting to wonder if maybe we’re more than just friends, you know what I mean?
Me: I mean, you call me at all hours, have retarded pet names for me, you’re always giving me gifts… My wife is starting to think we’re having an affair.
Zooey: Ewwww… Gross! I don’t do that with boys. I use my hoo-hoo to store walnuts.
Me: You store walnuts in there. … Really?
Zooey: Yup! What else are you gonna do with it?
Me: You see, this is what I’m talking about. That shit is not normal, Zooey. People don’t do that, and for very good reason! If I’m scheduled for an operation, I do not want to be lying there on the table when my surgeon walks up and starts casually munching on cashews she just pulled from her vag.
Zooey: Ooh! I love cashews!
Me: Stay with me, Zooey. You need to get on some meds, or cut the dose of the ones you’re on, or something. Last week you sent my kids a glass globe full of bees…
Zooey: The Bee Ball! I LOVE the Bee Ball!
Me: Yeah, well the boys rolled it down the stairs, the globe broke, and the bees were not particularly amused by the turn of events.
Me: Why did I know you were going to say ‘Zoiks!’?
Zooey: Hey, I feel like learning how to play the tuba! You want to go take in a tuba lesson with me?
Me: I’m going back to bed, Zooey.
Zooey: Bed? It’s morning time, silly!
Wife: (in background) Tell that bitch where she can stick those bees!
Me: No room. Walnuts.
Since I don’t have a front pocket, does that mean I am suspended from walnuts?
Yes, unless Zooey wants to share some with you ala Winona Ryder and ping-pong balls.
I think the quirkiness is all a marketing gimmick. At home, behind closed doors, she’s a fuckin’ scholar.
Also, I am quoting you on the SI Fartbook page. Put that on your resume, pal.
Do I put that before or after “Harasses classic rock band Foreigner”?
Foreigner had that coming.
Yes, Zooey Deschanel engages in debate over the essence of space/time, whether or not we are over-investing in String Theory, and does anyone want any walnuts?
I never got the fascination with Zooey either. I get it, you have saucer sized freakishly blue eyes and are a little diffent. And??
I love the walnut holder thing. I will never think of lady parts again without walnuts. Thanks.
You are welcome.
I know people who affect this substitute for a personality, and it’s not charming at all.
Without the big blue googly eyes it’s tragic like a head injury.
Yeah, what’s sad is when you run across someone who has absolutely nothing going for them, and it’ obvious the whole quirky thing is just a sad, sad plea for help.
It’s bizarre. I could totally hear her raspy voice all during that conversation.
I know. I should post the original audio.
Suddenly, I’m hungry for walnuts.
There’s a nutcracker joke to be made in here, I’m sure of it.
While the rest of my family watches TV, my mom does Pilates in the cramped space behind the couch. Or sits in the corner chair and practices her juggling. She isn’t a pack rat but she’s saved every cat whisker that she has ever found. She calls them “treasures”.
She buries road kill and once spent hours nurturing a giant burned pig she found wandering in the ally.
It takes a lot for me to believe in somebody’s “quirk”. I don’t buy Zooeys.
But you will buy her fragrance, right? Or her cookbook? Or her book of songs for the banjo? Her walnuts?
The walnuts are still in the shell, right?
They are when they go in.