I was first introduced to Arrested Development last summer in a rather unconventional way. My visits to the gym were beginning to feel repetitive and dull, so I searched Netflix to find a many-episode and highly reviewed series that would take my mind (and eyes) off the clock. AD appeared on the search queue, and I have been blessed by this serendipitous event ever since. The two weeks I plowed through the series on my mother’s stolen iPad were the best two weeks of my life. I laughed on the elliptical. Cried on the rowing machine. Became hysterical on the stationary bike. My fellow gym patrons probably hated me, giving me annoyed stares whenever I giggled at a Bluth quip a little too loudly. To them I said: take your four issues-behind Women’s Health you got from the free magazine pile and shove it up your ass.
It was two or three episodes into the series that I realized the extent of my mega-crush on G.O.B (George Oscar Bluth Jr.), the oldest son. I don’t know if it was his button-down shirts (always with one or two buttons undone), his always-present showmanship or the way he pronounces Michael (gravitas!), but he had my ladybits in a tizzy. I would marry him in a heartbeat, and here’s why:
- I’d acquire the family discount to the Bluth’s Original Banana Stand. The big yellow joint….the big yellow joint…
- Steve Holt would become my new stepson. I image us walking through Newport Beach, arms raised, wearing matching varsity jackets. Except mine is pink and bedazzled.
- He would buy me a $3000 ($2600? $5000? $4000? $6300?) evening dress to match his $3000 ($2600? $5000? $4000? $6300?) suit. Come on!
- We could live on a spacious yacht and become a maritime couple, with matching double-breasted jackets and sailor hats. As long as he doesn’t blow it up. You’re a crook…Captain Hook…
- My secret love of puppetry will most certainly be reciprocated. Franklin will become our pseudo-son. I hope Steve won’t be jealous.
- Dead doves in the refrigerator won’t freak me out. I’ll smile and embrace it.
- We’ll help the environment by only driving Segways.
- I’ll fully support his budding magician career and scheme to get him back into the Alliance of Magicians.
- I’ll overcome my life-long fears so easily as long as he punches me in the chest in the process. Thanks, husband.
- If anyone calls his illusions “tricks,” we’ll lock them in the Aztec Tomb until they apologize.
- Making fun of people will be so fun. Consult: chicken dance.
- He’ll take me to his cabin in the woods for a romantic weekend getaway. Or promise to take me and then not take me. Or not tell me that he’s taking me and then not take me. It’s the thought that counts, right?
- I’ll always support his career endeavors – whether it’s with the Hot Cops, Gobias Industries, his bee business, or doing nothing and sitting pretty at the Bluth Company.
- I’ll be his shoulder to cry on when these said business ideas undoubtedly fail. I’ve made a huge mistake…
- He’ll buy a yearbook ad for me when I graduate college. It does mean something still!
- We would make out to The Final Countdown and it would be fantastic and freaky.
- I’d get to be a member of the Bluth Family. And that, my friends, is what really matters. Saving the wetlands with Lindsay? Learning 18th-century agrarian business from Buster? Martini and toast breakfasts with Lucille? Count me in.