So since I have started writing what I think will be a book, we can now safely throw all serious, lucid, verbose, hyperbolic thought out of the window and discuss the more potent, generic issues in life… like what confounded me for most part of today.
Apparently, Maggie Gyllenhal is hot. And not in a weird way. Not in a ‘dude you have sick taste’ way. But in ‘fuck dude I want to do her dude’ way. While I give you a minute to digest that keep reading as I tell you where this wonderful tale starts.
One day I am sitting in an amusement park with my boss. No this is not a weird situation. Not if you hear the whole story it might not be. Amidst the 20 something swings that have weird looking children dressed like a day out in Lokhandwala market and swinging so high it seems possible they’ll start orbiting any minute, the myriad legs part to reveal the reason for our rendezvouz.. High profile, verbal diarrhea infected south Indian superstar is here shooting a film. And we are here to sign a contract. Ho hum. Anyway, you must have digested the Gyllenhal is (egad) hot factor by now so I’ll get to the point. So boss and I are making very arbit conversation to pass the time till superstar finishes his shot. Arbit conversation our firm style is to talk about who’s hot in office and who’s not. So that topic leads to “you know the one chick I find really hot is that chick in um..whats that movie…um…Mona Lisa Smile” boss says.
“What Julia Roberts ah?” I volunteer
No…no… the other girl
“Oh ya…Julia Stiles then’!
No ..no…The other one….
No ya…the other one… the one with the actor brother.
Her name is already seated on my tongue. Not tip of or anything. But I can’t say it. I’m incredulous. Finally it tumbles out.
Yes! That’s the one! She’s hot dude!
(I proceed to feign not fainting)
Part two of this confounding tale took place yesterday. It’s pouring and best friend and his flatmate have decided my house is new theatre hall. We watch a film called ‘Stranger than Fiction’. Brilliant film. Great story, great camera work, great screenplay, great performances, great actors (Will Ferrel, Dustin Hoffman, Emma Thompson, Queen LAtifa and um. Yeah Maggie Gyllenhal). So basically there’s a lot to talk about when the film gets over and I turn the lights on and both lads look transfixed. Okay the movie was heavy, but this affected stupification I wasn’t expecting. Finally a line escapes best friends lips. :’Fuck she’s hot dude’. Flatmate agrees : ‘yeah dude, she’s fucking hot man’.
“Who Emma Thompson?! “ I ask slightly surprised. Maybe these boys liked their women mature I decided.
“No Dude..what’shername…the other one”
“Um…Queen Latifa?!...dude!” I say. But still willing to accept that maybe it’s the ‘once you go black you never go back’ thing.
“No ya…the other one… the one with the actor brother”
“M..Mag..Maggie Gyllenhal?!!” I say and throw my hands down to break the fall.
This morning I got up angsty. It just couldn’t be. Three men did not hot a woman make! I needed more stats. So I call over another friend (No 4) to watch ‘Happy Endings’ – another Gyllenhall wonder.
Now, No. 4 is gay. He’s into nice girlie boys. The prettier the better. And since Gyllenhall looks like frikking promagnen man, I decide he will be the best judge. I don’t give him the slightest sniff of my grand scheme, after all I want an immediate unbiased opinion. So I’m thinking I’ll wait till the end of the film and casually pose the question. Instead, horror of horrors, Gyllehal makes first frame appearance and no 4 remarks. “Wow she’s hot!”. I control myself for a second and pause frame. There are two women in the frame, so I keep my calm and ask… ‘the girl in the white top?’.
“No Dude…black top….Maggie..Maggie Gyllenhal…that’s her name. She’s Jake Gyllenhal’s sister. If I was into women, I’d be into her dude…dude?…dude?…you ok dude…dude…!!”