Advance warning: this is going to be a fan-girl post.
I have been quite in love with Rupert Grint for about ten years now, ever since I first saw his abashed facial expression on the Hogwarts Express when he and Harry met. In sixth grade (okay, maybe seventh and eighth grade, too), my locker was plastered with pictures of him – to be fair, Tom Felton was in there as well. I have absolutely no idea why I was so obsessed with him back then, as he was a little ginger kid who made dopey faces. Maybe it was because he seemed like the only capable and believable actor out of the trio (god, Emma Watson was truly terrible back in the beginning…) or perhaps it was thanks to those interviews I saw of him when he seemed so humble and adorable and witty, and in which he admitted to auditioning for HP by rapping some self-written lyrics while dressed up in a wig. Yes, seriously. Anyway, the point is, the love affair has never abated. I know I should say that I’d love to meet Dame Maggie Smith or Julie Walters or Alan Rickman or Jason Isaacs (my mom certainly would choose him), but the truth is: Rupert Grint wants to be an ice cream man and bought an ice cream van with his earnings. He rides the unicycle and plays the digeridoo (seriously). He has two dogs. He’s a fantastic actor. He hates vegetables and loves “sweets” (ohmygod, soulmate). He bought a house for his parents. He’s bloody lovely to look at now. He made me realize that I should move to Britain because apparently British guys have senses of humor that are far superior to anything I’ve found in American males. He forgot to write an essay describing Ron Weasley that was assigned by Alfonso Cuaron and then claimed that “that’s what Ron would have done.” Sighhh.
P.S. – Only downside? Rupert’s favorite color is green. Ugh. Whatever, I can deal.
