Hey Boy, Whatcha Doin’: One Man’s Confession of New Girl Fandom

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Editor’s Note:  This is a very moving, personal piece. It required months of careful preparation and was written with emotion, courage, tears, and courage.  Please show some respect and share it on your Facebook wall.

Last weekend I was at a party with some friends, and I found myself talking to a girl.  We hit it off really well.  We had a lot of the same interests – but one particular one really stood out.  And that one particular interest carried the conversation.

“I know it’s unconventional, but I like Winston the best…”

“My favorite thing she did was when she dressed as an old-timey cigarette girl for that one party at the bar.  Remember that?  That was pretty quirky…”

“You know in my apartment we actually have a douchebag jar?  It’s so funny…”

But then it stopped.  A large, brown-haired, brown-eyed young man came up to me and stared me dead in the eyes.

Top 5 Reasons Ben Gibbard and Zooey Deschanel Got Divorced

This month marks the four-year wedding anniversary of Ben Gibbard and Zooey Deschanel. Ben is best known as the sad-sack lead singer of Death Cab for Cutie and The Postal Service, while Zooey is an actress as well as the songstress for the band She & Him. Unfortunately, everyone’s favorite pick for “Cutest Indie Couple” have been separated almost as long as they were married, and their divorce was finalized in December.

When the pair first became an item, I combined their names to create the celebrity power couple name “Zen,” thinking it captured the harmonious nature of their relationship. Knowing how things turned out, “Booey” (pronounced like the British glam-rocker’s surname) might have been a better choice.

Furor Scribendi: Zombies, Canadians, Rihanna, and Chet Haze (or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Pretend to be Malcolm Gladwell)

Brother Jürgen Taintsdorf and Evander Jones trade e-mails regarding celebrity, sport, and all things culture.

Evander Jones:
Dear Brother Jürgen,

Took him long enough.

What follows is a pitiful attempt to be either the Bill Simmons to your Malcolm Gladwell or the other way around. If need be, however, I am willing to settle as the Ke$ha to your Flo Rida. Either way I’ll probably come off as a DoucheMcMuffin, even if I edit our email exchanges to make us both look far more witty than our faithful Sherman Ave readers could ever imagine. A tricky task, mind you, as I just kind of assume that all of our readers are beautiful women between the ages of 18 and 27 who harbor a fond appreciation for unreleased Smiths B-sides, The West Wing, and Morty Schapiro to go with their rabid readership of Sherman Ave.