Last week C and I went to see John Legend in concert. Legend is a fantastic singer and songwriter. Not to be overly sentimental or dramatic, but his latest song, “All of Me” reminds me of the relationship that C and I have. We don’t have a “song” because if I suggested such a thing C would relentlessly make fun of me, but I secretly consider it ours. When I dream about our wedding, John Legend plays a piano and sings this song as we dance and I look absolutely lovely in my Vera Wang dress. Please don’t tell her.
You can watch the video for “All of Me” here. His co-star in the video is his wife, Sports Illustrated Swimsuit model Chrissy Teigen. I became a Legend fan because of Teigen. Whenever magazines or websites (the new magazine) make lists of the funniest people on Twitter, she normally makes an appearance. She is sarcastic and self-depreciating and extremely entertaining. She has a great blog about cooking and loves to eat. Also she is crazy hot. I started following her, which made me curious about him. I downloaded one of his albums, then all of them. He’s amazingly talented and seems like a genuinely nice guy. He also does a version of Bruce Springsteen’s “Dancing in the Dark” that not only made me like the song for the first time but which also allowed me to understand the lyrics (these two facts might be related).
I’m not the only one in the house who likes Teigen. T1 is a big fan.
I think all teenage boys develop a fascination with Sports Illustrated swimsuit models. I came-of-age (yeah, I did) in the golden era of Stephanie Seymour, Kathy Ireland and Elle McPherson. I had an entire door in my bedroom covered in pictures of them cut from several years worth of Swimsuit Issues. The fact that there is a Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue at all is, if you think about it, weird. Its one week out of the year where the magazine goes completely off the rails. Bikinis and sports don’t really go together and SI is otherwise a fairly focused publication. It would be like if, once a year, Martha Stewart Living had a whole issue devoted to profiles on motorcycle gangs.
That said, as a young man growing up before the Internet gave everyone instant access, not just women in bikinis but to hard core porn, I was thankful for their diversion from form.
When the Swimsuit Issue showed up at the house this past year I got to look at it once before it disappeared up into T1’s room, never to be seen again by anyone but him. He flirted a bit with cover model Kate Upton but came back to Chrissy pretty quickly.
Last year in his science class they studied genetics. He had to pick someone famous and then figure out what their children would look like. He picked Chrissy Teigen. Their kids will be beautiful. He has pictures of her on his phone. Ask him to name an attractive famous person and she is who he will say. He’s not wrong.
Teigen spent a couple of weeks on tour with her husband and so she was going to be at the concert C and I attended. When we told T1 this, he immediately wanted to know if we were going to meet her and if we did if we could get a picture with her and maybe an autograph. I asked him what he was going to do with an autograph and he replied, “sleep with it on my pillow.” He was kidding…mostly.
This conversation was going on in the family room. T2 was sitting on the couch playing Minecraft on the X-Box (more about T2 and his amazing Minecraft ability some other day). He is always listening and so, during a lull in the Chrissy talk, he fired off the comment that little brothers have been using against older brothers since right before Cain capped Able.
“If you love her so much,” he said, his eyes not leaving the screen, “why don’t you marry her?”
Usually this is a devastating attack. Not so much this time.
“Well, “said T1, very matter-of-factly, “she is already married. If she wasn’t, I totally would.”
T2 has two things he does, independent of one another, when he want to give expression to either when he thinks he has scored some sort of debate point or when something surprises him.
In the first of these he will say, “ ha ha ha.” I don’t mean he will laugh, I mean he will literally say “ha ha ha” as punctuation to his point. He’d be a horrible trial lawyer because every time he delivered a devastatingly smashing blow to the opposing sides’ case he would immediately undermine it completely.
“So,” he would say, “you ADMIT you set the clown college on fire in retaliation for your poor grades! Ha ha ha.”
He didn’t “ha ha ha” T1, he pulled out his other expression, the one used for surprise. He scrunches his mouth up like he bit into a lemon and then arches his right eyebrow. I’m an eyebrow archer myself, but T2 does it to such an extent that the brow looks like it should be erected in a mid-western city and tourists should take rides to the top of it.
This was the look he gave his older brother. He actually put down the controller and turned to face T1, eyebrow reaching for the heavens.
“Really,” said T1. “I really would.”
“Hmm,” said T2, eyebrow slowly returning to sea level, his wit defeated. “Well…okay then.”
We did see the object of his affections from across the concert venue. I wanted to tell him that we sat right behind her and that the four of us (Me, C, Chrissy and John) were going to all hang out together next summer but C wouldn’t let me.