Bitchy Rant #1209.2

Ben Gibbard's Comeuppance

Until he died, I was only vaguely aware of Heath Ledger. I thought he was really good in “Brokeback Mountain,” and I was excited to see him play The Joker in “The Dark Knight.” I’ve seen “10 Things I Hate About You” more times than I care to recall. I even watched “Roar” when it was on TV. But when a classmate told me he had died, I was shaken. I could barely recall that day’s lecture because I spent most of the hour thinking about Heath Ledger.

Later, I wondered why Ledger’s death was such a big deal to me. Part of it was surely the reminder that we are all mortal and our lives could expire at any time. But I think another part of it was that, even if we may not consciously think about it, we think of celebrities as people we know. We imagine futures for them. I’m sure many people wondered what Heath Ledger would do after “The Dark Knight,” even if they didn’t really sit there and think about it.

Taken a step further, those imagined futures could involve us in some way. Even if I’d never thought about it before, I now know that any hope I may have had of co-starring in a cop buddy movie with Heath Ledger is now entirely outside the realm of possibility. I can no longer entertain that fantasy. The chances of me co-starring in any film are now greater than the chances of me co-starring in a film with Heath Ledger. But enough about Heath Ledger; what I’m really getting at is that Ben Gibbard is ruining my life.

My high school girlfriend was a huge Death Cab for Cutie fan (“before they got big,” of course), so I was vaguely aware (and vaguely jealous) of Ben Gibbard. I now go to school at Western Washington University in Bellingham, Washington, where Death Cab got their start. Therefore, I’ve heard plenty of stories about how “this dude who knew the dude from Death Cab gave my brother this sofa,” etc. To be fair, I know a dude who knows Chris Walla. But my beef has always been with Gibbard, if only because “Such Great Heights” was the sing-along favorite at so many parties during my first couple years of college.

So imagine my frustration when I discovered that Gibbard was engaged to Zooey Deschanel. You may remember her from such films as “The Happening,” “Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy,” and “Elf.” She has big hazel-ish eyes and long wavy dark hair that often falls down in bangs over her forehead. Also, she does this adorable thing where she doesn’t open her mouth very wide when she speaks and sort of talks out of the corners. She’s ridiculously cute.

And she’s engaged to this guy:

Really? This guy looks like your weird uncle that sits in the basement and watches Star Trek during family gatherings. He looks like Rivers Cuomo’s reflection in a fun house mirror. Now, I’m sure he’s probably more interesting than me. He’s probably read more classic literature and seen more obscure movies. He’s definitely a better songwriter. He may even be a better lover and all-around more thoughtful and decent human being than I am. But frankly, it’s really easy to superficially mock someone’s physical appearance, so I’m sticking with that.

Oh look, it’s John Krasinski. Man, he’s a looker. And there’s Rainn Wilson back th—HEY, wait a minute, that’s some other four-eyed moon-faced smarty pants!

Yeah, I play the vibes too, fucknut. Have since junior high. Did your percussion ensemble win second place at state? No. That’s what I thought. Jerkweed.


So anyways, whatever my chances were of marrying Zooey Deschanel before, they are now zero. I’m heartbroke. And yet at the same time, I’m still mulling my chances of one day rubbing elbows with America’s new indie sweethearts. As I write this, I think, “What would Ben Gibbard think if he read this? Would he just have a good laugh? Would he even read the whole thing? If I met him in person, would it come up in conversation? Would he be like, ‘oh yeah, you’re that tall lanky dweeb that wrote that blog about me getting engaged to Zooey’? What would Zooey think?”

That’s the magic of celebrities: We are on a first-name basis with them, even though they don’t know we exist. But there’s always the possibility. There was always the possibility that Heath Ledger might one day buy me a drink. And there was always the possibility that Zooey Deschanel might one day give me a smooch on the cheek.

And even as I write this I wonder, “Would Zooey still give me a smooch on the cheek even if she was married to Ben Gibbard, if only to fulfill the fantasy I disclosed in this blog?”

What’s a tall lanky dweeb to do?


Angrily yours,



Steve R.