Alexander Skarsgard, you are my new imaginary boyfriend.
Actually, you have been for a long, long time. Since way before the beginning of this blog. Though you were there too.
You have been my imaginary boyfriend since I first got into the HBO series True Blood. (Which is totally the best show to avoid watching with your brother. Or your parents. Or In-Laws. From what I hear.)
Because you are so awesome. And so sexy. And please excuse this short digression to honor someone else. You and me? We have plenty of time.
Meg Wood is a friend of mine. Not the best kind of friend, the ones I can and do get up off my ass to enjoy in person. But maybe a better kind of friend. A person I actually know who is always totally cool to me in person and who always gives me so much more than I have ever managed to scrape together and offer in return. Until now.
Thank you, Meg, for Boyfriend of the Week. You do the work so I don't have to, and it's totally appreciated, even though I have never done you the honor of saying so before. As far as I can remember anyway. ha ha ha.
Or the honor of bothering to watch a single episode of McGyver. Which I just realized is totally brilliantly named, even though I have never seen it, because I am sure the title character is totally a guy. And an everyman. And a star. Just like the rest of you guys, whom I love.
And you lead the way. By example, the best kind of advice ever. Because, while I can't use the MacGuyver scale of adorability, I totally have cupcake worthy. And twitterpated.
Alexander Skarsgard, you are totally cupcake worthy. I would give you my only, favorite cupcake, because you make me glad to be alive. And you have the special talent, which is extremely rare, to make me feel weak in the knees. From eleventy million miles away.
Because you totally 'get' sexy, and you totally get how to portray it in your art, acting. I suspect you portray it better acting than you usually bother to do in real life, because impressing a girl is actually much easier than impressing an audience, as far as I can tell.
And I love how you don't seem to waste your excellent talent for fake sincerity on anything other than your art. I've seen you in interviews, and you're always just naturally sincere. It is also a joy to behold. Though it doesn't hold a candle to your art, pleasing an audience. And I am thanking you for taking up that work.
It doesn't hurt that you bear a passing resemblance to my first boyfriend, also tall, blond, and slim. It doesn't help that much, of course, because we totally couldn't resolve things in time to save our relationship. (Though I'm totally willing to say that he gave up first. But I'd totally love not to have to add, Not. Without. Cause.)
And it's not because you are tall, though that's ok. But I totally wish they'd stand your co-star on a crate or something so you didn't have to pretzel over her to get you both in the same shot. Because you totally carry it off, intensity in the face of absurd reality. And you can't pick her up, because that would totally shift the balance of power between you two, which is crucial for this story.
But I worry. Because I'm good at that. And just because you totally carry it off, it doesn't mean that there isn't some aesthetic principle getting totally trashed.
Now, you don't have to worry about me, Alexander Skarsgard. I will not be stalking you. If you are so impressed by this, and want to stop by and visit, well, I won't say no, because you totally rock. But I won't be running out to get you any cupcakes, if you know what I mean. Because We have Never Met.
And while I have an active imagination, I don't take it to the next level, if you know what I mean. Your actual work is way, WAY better than anything I could imagine you doing, because I have limits.
So thank you, Alexander Skarsgard. Let this blog post stand as my imaginary cupcake, given from me to you. Because you totally deserve it.