500 Days of Are You Freaking Kidding ME?

So, I did one of those things on the list of things I was told to by no means ever do. No, I didn't watch TV during a thunderstorm, nor did I sleep with a fan blowing near my neck, and no I didn't have fried macaroni and cheese balls dipped in ranch dressing. I did probably the most internally apocalyptic thing on that list: I watched 500 Days of Summer.

I know, this is really lame and would certainly serve as fodder for countless emasculating jokes if there were anyone in my geographic vicinity to craft said jokes, but real talk (see previous post for clarification) this was a roller coaster. Like a boyscout sent into the wilderness with a couple merit badges and a Nalgene bottle, I was completely unprepared for the story that just unfolded.

Dude falls in love with no other than Zooey. Zooey reciprocates emotion albeit in a "casual" disguise. The pair goes to IKEA. They don't even seem to buy anything. They eat pancakes. Are you kidding me? They make whimsical lists on a wall covered in chalkboard paint. They sit in an ugly park with an ugly view. They did things that, if done alone, make one seem either manic or depressed or otherwise completely insane (I mean, pancakes?).

He worked for a greeting card company? He wore skinny ties? He took little tiny coincidences entirely to seriously, assigning to them the gravity typically reserved for a mass of locusts hovering over all known civilization? His name was Tom? This is ridiculous. Merely days after I became overly infatuated with an unsuspecting woman while vacuuming my car solely due to the fact that she also shared an appreciation for automotive tidiness that which she demonstrated while throwing away old receipts from her car while waiting to use the vacuum that I had, at the time, been using, I run into this strikingly similar fool who lost his love to a d-bag that happened to ask her what book she was reading in a freaking cafe?

I'm not really that devastated. I just really want to go to IKEA, and not buy anything. I think I'll now most certainly be ending my evening with this delightfully melancholy XX album and a coconut butterscotch chip cookie. Just one, because there's only one left. Sorry.