Imagined Celebrity Connections: Ryan Reynolds and Ryan Gosling Text About Their Baby News
Each week, Josh Duboff looks at the biggest celebrity news—and amuses himself by imagining how those celebrities might have reacted.
Ryan Reynolds and Blake Lively are expecting their second child, as are Ryan Gosling and Eva Mendes
Ryan Reynolds texts Ryan Gosling.
Reynolds: Hey bro
Reynolds: guess we’ve got ANOTHER thing in common
Reynolds: so funny
Eight hours pass.
Gosling: who is this?
Reynolds: It’s REYNOLDS, man!
Reynolds: Ryan Reynolds!
Gosling: ahhh got it
Gosling: sorry I never use my phone
Gosling: I still have a flip phone actually
Gosling: never know where it is
Reynolds: nice, bro!
Reynolds: you’re so off-the-grid and artisanal, dude. I always picture you in a wood shop wearing a coonskin cap
Five hours pass.
Reynolds: so anyway, we should get the families together at some point soon!!
Reynolds: since we’re all matched up now! two kids the same ages
An hour passes.
Gosling: I’ll have to check with Eva
Reynolds: blake and I are pretty damn good at board games
Gosling: I don’t think I’ve played a board game since I was 12 man
Reynolds: uh we can also ride motorcycles and sulk in sunglasses too??
Reynolds: whatever you guys want!!
Liam Hemsworth says he is not, as rumored, actually engaged to Miley Cyrus.
Liam comes back in from the ocean, leaving his surfboard in the sand. Miley, laying on a beach towel, takes her sunglasses off. “Hey babe,” she drawls. “Do you want some Starburst? I have all these Starburst.”
“Naw, I’m alright,” he mumbles, sitting down next to Miley and taking a sunscreen bottle out of his bag. “I had some oats earlier.”
Miley picks at the edge of her towel. “Hey,” she says. “I . . . I don’t want to make this into a whole thing, but . . . my mom was asking about why, you know, you went and said that we weren’t engaged when . . . well, I don’t know. I just don’t get why you had to say anything.” She puts her hair up and ties it in a bun. “People ask me things all the time and I just say ‘no’ or ‘no comment’ or ‘get the hell out of here,’ you know?” She grabs the sunscreen. “Are you going to say anything?”
“I just—you know how I was raised! I’m an honest guy. I’m straight-forward.” Liam takes a long pause. “I don’t, I don’t think too much about, you know, if something I am saying is going to be, uh, a whole thing on the Internet. If I’m talking to a guy who seems decent, I am going to respond to him upfront and honestly.”
“Jesus, Liam. This isn’t like a goddamn ethics seminar. It’s a random reporter asking you a personal question!” Miley stands up. “I’m going in the water.”
“Do you want me to come in with you?”
“You just got out, Liam . . . ” Miley says, walking quickly towards the waves.
Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen take their first “public selfie.”
In the back seat of a car, Mary-Kate takes a Ziploc bag filled with cotton balls out of her purse.
“Oh, can I have one?” Ashley asks.
“Of course.” Mary-Kate takes one of the cotton balls out of her bag and hands it to Ashley. They each clutch one in their palm.
“We just like the way they feel in our hands,” Mary-Kate whispers to the driver.
The driver nods his head.
“Where do you want to go today?” Mary-Kate asks Ashley.
“I think I want to visit a windmill. Wouldn’t that be lovely?”
“Yeah. I’d like that. But first, a ravine.”
“One ravine, and then one windmill, please!” Ashley says to the driver.
The driver clears his throat and then turns his head slightly. “Hey, I was watching Access Hollywood last night—I mean, it was on in the background while I was cooking dinner, you know—and I heard you guys took your first . . . public selfie, I think they called it. Would you be willing to maybe . . . I mean, my friends would go crazy, if I got a selfie with the Olsen twins—that’d be, like, selfie gold? Is there any chance you two would be down?”
Mary Kate and Ashley lock eyes and then they both start giggling, quietly at first but then turning into full-fledged, full-body cackles.
“Oh, uh, I’m sorry,” the driver mumbles. “I didn’t mean to—”
The two women continue convulsing with laughter for about thirty seconds, before halting, abruptly, at the exact same time.
After a few seconds, Ashley speaks. “Can you turn on some samba music, please?”
It is reported that Lindsay Lohan is engaged to 22-year-old Egor Tarabasov; her rep eventually denies it.
Lindsay walks out of the tanning salon, where she runs into Chris Pine, who is on his way in.
“Oh, hey!” Lindsay shrieks, giving him a hug. “I was just flipping through the channels the other night and Just My Luck was playing, and I was about to text you, but I realized I didn’t have your number!”
“Those were the days,” Chris says, with a laugh. “I was such a baby then.”
“Yeah,” Lindsay says, gazing at the parking lot, past Chris. “It was a long time ago . . . A really long time ago.”
“Well, how have you been? I saw you’re engaged. That’s great.”
“Don’t believe everything you read, Mr. Pine! You know, everything they say about me is fictional, basically. The only thing you can trust is that my name is Lindsay . . . that’s what I always say!”
“Well . . .” Chris starts, raising his arms for a farewell hug, but Lindsay doesn’t budge. “You know, dating a 22-year-old . . .” she murmurs. “I’ve been thinking a lot. About life. And about time.”
Chris slumps backward. “Yeah. I think it’s best not to think too much about that kind of stuff. Especially in our business.” He puts his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket.
“Egor doesn’t know me as Lindsay Lohan, you know? And I love that. He just thinks I’m this cool chick he met, who happens to be followed around by photographers wherever she goes.”
“Yep,” Chris says. “It’s really refreshing to date someone outside of the industry.”
“Well, his dad is a billionaire, basically, you know? So it’s kind of perfect. We come from similar worlds, but, at the same time, we’re strangers.”
“That sounds like the tagline for a new Shonda Rhimes drama,” Chris mutters, but Lindsay doesn’t hear him.
“Well,” Lindsay exclaims, throwing her hands in the air, “What I always say is ‘Live, love, laugh, and then repeat.’”
“You live and then you love . . .?” Chris starts. “I’m just trying to understand if—”
Lindsay pokes him in the shoulder, letting out a deep, raspy laugh. “I forgot how much of a rascal you are.” She gives him a hug. “O.K., enjoy your tanning. I’m off, Mr. Pine. Keep living in the moment. Let the sunshine in.”
“I . . . will do my best.”
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