Well, in a little while, that is. However long it takes under California law.
Mike Meyers is, of course, the SNL comedian of Wayne's World and Austin Powers fame. I'm bummed because it's the appropriate thing to feel when a long-term relationship ends. But also because his wife was Jewish, so I always kind of liked the notion that he was an MOT (Member of the Tribe) by marriage. Not to mention that his mother in law was his inspiration for his mid-90's Linda Richman character on SNL, and I will now cop to having been that girl who couldn't stop herself from lapsing into a Linda Richman shtick every five minutes. I am sure I was the most annoying person around, except for that guy who kept yelling, "You can't HANDLE THE TRUTH!!" a la Nicholson in A Few Good Men or the guy who kept doing Ace Ventura: "Aaalll Rightyy Thennn!" Okay, maybe I was even more annoying than him. But certainly not more annoying than all my pervy college guy friends who talked endlessly about Natalie Portman, that new 13-year old (Yeah, guys--THIRTEEN) actress in The Professional. At least she was a very-sort-of-well,not-at-all legal 15 when they couldn't shut up about her again when Beautiful Girls came out...
Anyway, point being: I was annoyingly in love with Mike Meyers. Some women like their men with money or abs or fast cars; me, I'm just all about the funny. So along came Mike Meyers, not really hot by modern standards, kind of weird by most girl's standards--dressed up no less like an old Jewish woman saying "shpilkes" and "schmatte"--and I was in full-on swoon.
The real origin of my swoonage is a movie called So I Married an Axe-Murderer, which he made before he got huge with Wayne's World. In it, he plays himself as a guy with commitment issues, and he also plays his very Scottish and eccentric father. I laughed so freakin' hard at that movie because he NAILED the very essence of my father. He WAS my father in that movie, coming downstairs to meet people at the door in his boxers, telling his son to "light a match!" after coming out of the loo, and claiming that the world is ruled by The Pentavirate, headed up by The Queen, The Gettys, The Rothschilds, The Pope, "and Colonel Sanders before he went tits up."
So much in love with Mike Meyers was I that not even him essentially inhabiting the body and mind of my father, wearing boxers while dancing to the Bay City Rollers could give me the turnoff. Hey--funny is funny, and funny is hot. Even if it appears as a wee fat man worshipping photos of Jackie Stewart and Sheena Easton in his wood-paneled living room.
So what's my point? I actually forget, to be honest. Oh yeah! Mike Meyers. Funny. Hot. Love. Swoon. Soon to be SINGLE, Baby!!! Woo Hoo!
Although it probably wouldn't work out between us, if for no other reason than someday we'd be sitting over a romantic dinner and he'd do one of his "If it's not Scottish it's crap!" shticks, I'd laugh, but then it would finally get to me: "I cannot possibly kiss a man who channels my father over a nice plate of veal piccata," and then I'd no doubt say something about his cute little goyishe punim in that Linda Richman voice, and then he'd think, "I can't kiss a woman who sounds like my ex-mother in law!" And the love affair would be over as inexplicably as it began.
Tragic, really. Because I seriously just never get tired of seeing someone put their pinky up to their mouth and yell, "One Meeeee-lion Dolllllars!" so the odds for eternal joy and happiness were pretty high. Unless he's one of those comedians who, in truth, is not funny or happy at all in real life. That would stink. Because I, most definitely, cannot handle the truth.