I… I don’t know what just happened.
Teen heart-throb Wil Wheaton has bought some Wil Wheaton-themed memorabilia, cleverly perpetuating the Wil Wheaton brand / industry. I really don’t know where else to go with this.
I see your Nathan Fillion in Jorts and Rollerblades, and raise you this.
In which Wil ups the stakes. We can only hope this escalates.
actually I agree, I think I remember of having a small crush when I was just a little girl. I always had a thing for smart guys and he was young enough for me so… XD
I think it is all right to have liked him. Why not? Now I see the fail in the character design but back then I didn’t even knew about the fandom wank… or the fandom in general.
I am speechless… this is so awesome.
Here, Wil is reminded that some of us love(d) Wesley.
I would have befriended the heck out of that kid, terrible sweaters or no.
![wilwheaton:
I have no memory of this photo being taken, but I know that it happened in Japan when Sean and I were there to promote Toy Soldiers.
I imagine the conversation immediately preceeding this went something like this:
Japanese PR Person: You put on this sweater over your shoulders. You rascal!
Me: Um…
Sean: Yeah, we can do that.
PR Person: Put hands on hips. Rascal!
Me and Sean: Uhh…
PR Person: PICTURE! PICTURE!
Me (to Sean): On a scale of 1 to horrible…
Sean (to me): Horrible. Horrible.
Me (to Sean): Let’s look intense. So people will know that we’re 18 and very serious.
Sean: Good idea!
[We make a Very Serious Face]
PR Person: Rascals! You RASCALS! GIVE ME RASCALS!
Sean and Me: Okay.jpg.
I’m not sure why all the people in Japan said we were RASCALs, but they were very nice about it. I’m also not sure why I had that appalling hairdo, but it was 1990, so it probably made sense.
To be honest, I’m a little bit more concerned with the sweaters.
In which Wil is a besweatered Rascal.](http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m04iywPcfq1r7kpivo1_400.jpg)
I have no memory of this photo being taken, but I know that it happened in Japan when Sean and I were there to promote Toy Soldiers.
I imagine the conversation immediately preceeding this went something like this:
Japanese PR Person: You put on this sweater over your shoulders. You rascal!
Me: Um…
Sean: Yeah, we can do that.
PR Person: Put hands on hips. Rascal!
Me and Sean: Uhh…
PR Person: PICTURE! PICTURE!
Me (to Sean): On a scale of 1 to horrible…
Sean (to me): Horrible. Horrible.
Me (to Sean): Let’s look intense. So people will know that we’re 18 and very serious.
Sean: Good idea!
[We make a Very Serious Face]
PR Person: Rascals! You RASCALS! GIVE ME RASCALS!
Sean and Me: Okay.jpg.
I’m not sure why all the people in Japan said we were RASCALs, but they were very nice about it. I’m also not sure why I had that appalling hairdo, but it was 1990, so it probably made sense.
To be honest, I’m a little bit more concerned with the sweaters.
In which Wil is a besweatered Rascal.
Hideous Cosby Sweater? Check.
Untied high top tennis shoes? Check.
Z Cavaricci pants? Check.
Leather fucking trenchcoat for some reason? Check.
Why. Why why why why why didn’t a single person with access to a mirror get between me and the car as I was leaving the house? Because it was the late 80s, bitches, and this horrible shit was hot.
Here we sense more amusement than regret. Wil has recognised and embraced his role as the only person on the goddamn planet with the right to mock his teenage self.
Why he hasn’t remarked on the frankly bizarre appearance of his compatriot is anyone’s guess.
Wesley: Data, I can understand What I can’t understand is why anyone would voluntarily become dependent on a chemical.
Data: Voluntary addiction to drugs is a recurrent theme in many cultures.
Tasha: Wesley, no-one wants to become dependent. That happens later.
Wesley: But it does happen… so why do people start?
Tasha: On my home planet there was so much poverty and violence that for some, the only escape was through drugs.
Wesley: How can a chemical substance provide an escape?
Tasha: It doesn’t… but it makes you think it does. You have to understand, drugs… they can make you feel good. They make you feel on top of the world. You’re happy, you’re sure of yourself, in control.
Wesley: But it’s artificial?
Tasha: It doesn’t feel artificial until the drug wears off. Then you pay the price, before you know it you’re taking the drug, not to feel good, but to keep from feeling bad.
Wesley: And that’s the trap?
Tasha: All you care about is getting your next dosage, nothing else matters.
Wesley: I guess I just don’t understand
Tasha: Wesley, I hope you never do.Wesley: Tasha, how about we get super fucked up and you teach me how to be a man?
Tasha: Are you fully functional?
Wesley: I’m about to be.
Data: I’ll be in my bunk.
And that, kids, is how I wrote my first fan fiction.
Wil is an author.
He gets money for writing.
I’d make a snarky comment about that, but he quoted Firefly. I can’t stay mad at you, mister snuggles!
(I don’t know why I called him that, gloss over it, gloss gloss gloss)
Cosby sweater? CHECK.
Mock Turtleneck? CHECK.
Big Fuckin’ Wave hairstyle? CHECK.
Double Swatches? CHECK.
Not giving a fuck about how ridiculous I look because I got to meet and get a hug from Debbie Gibson on this day in 1988? HELL YES THAT’S A CHECK.
Wil thinks of his past self with derision and affection. As should we all.
