I would prefer sleeves
Look I get it. How weird it must be. You know the paps are there shooting you. You know they know you know they’re there shooting you. Then you have to spend your entire lunch pretending you don’t know. Or trying not to look, even though it’s kinda human nature to want to look where you’re not supposed to look.
And he’s alone too. Here in New York yesterday, having lunch by himself, and photographers are clicking away. It’s awkward! So, you know, if he wants to break up that awkward tension and just make some silly faces, I guess, I mean I wish he wouldn’t, I wish he’d just, like, “act” his way through the charade of getting papped, but I also understand why he’d want to defuse the tension. It’s not my favourite move, the sticking out of the tongue and the making of the monkey ears and whatever, but the rationale for it is acceptable...
I just wish he was wearing a proper shirt. With sleeves. A white short sleeve t-shirt. Simple, right? Or grey. Or black. Or green. Whatever colour I don’t care. Any short sleeve t-shirt over a beater tank. Because then he starts walking down the street, in the beater tank, with the dog, and in some frames it looks like some kind of weird strut, and, I’m sorry, I am a fickle, petty bitch, and this is doing nothing for my quiver. Nothing nothing nothing.
Ryan’s in New York this weekend for the Crazy Stupid Love junket. The premiere is on Tuesday.
Photos from Splashnewsonline.com