Paul F*@#ing Rudd

Around our house we have a running joke about actor Paul Rudd, or as I call him "Paul F*@#ing Rudd." The ubiquitous actor has appeared in films, television, stage, and on last night's episode of The Daily Show with John Stewart. Every time he pops up (which is quite a bit, lately) I say to my wife, "I don't believe it. Paul F*@#ing Rudd."

About 10 years ago, my mom showed me an article about Paul in the local weekly newspaper. (This was around the time Paul had his big break appearing in Clueless with Alicia Silverstone.) She asked, "Didn't you go to school with him?" I looked at the name, trying to remember who Paul Rudd was, and then it clicked. Yeah. I knew him.

Paul Rudd and I went to the same high school, Shawnee Mission West, in Overland Park, KS. We were in Mrs. Shipley's forensics class together. He was a year younger than me. He was a bit of a class clown and usually had everyone laughing. We were never really good friends or anything. We were just classmates.

I was happy to watch Paul in Clueless and say to my friends, "I went to school with that guy." His status as rising star made me proud (in a weird sort of way), and I tracked my "degrees of separation" to Hollywood fame according to Paul Rudd rather than Kevin Bacon.

Then he started showing up everywhere. Overland Park (despite being the second largest city in Kansas) has never really had a hometown celebrity. The local press latched onto him and ran stories, biographies, and features every time "Paul F*@#ing Rudd" appeared in anything. I followed his progress from one story to another, because my mother always considerately cut out and saved them for me to read during my next visit home.

By the late 1990s, Paul had appeared in a few mainstream films like Romeo + Juliet and Object of My Affection. He was mostly doing stage work (Twelfth Night with Helen Hunt) and small art films like 200 Cigarettes. In 2000, he was nominated with the cast of Cider House Rules for a Screen Actors Guild award.

In 2002, Paul finally hit the mainstream consciousness when he popped up on Friends, one of the most popular shows on television. He began to showcase his comedic abilities in films like Anchorman: The Legend of Ron Burgundy and The 40-Year Old Virgin. In April, IMDb voters chose Paul as "most qualified to join the Frat Pack" (with the likes of Ben Stiller, Vince Vaughn, Will Ferrell, Owen and Luke Wilson, Jack Black, and Steve Carell). At the end of last year, he also had a cameo in Stiller's film Night at the Museum.

Thus far in 2007, Paul has appeared in four films: Reno 911!: Miami, Diggers, The Ex, and Knocked Up. Later this year, he's also slated to appear in The Ten and I Could Never Be Your Woman opposite Michelle Pfeiffer. Six films in one year!

So, why am I obsessed with "Paul F*@#ing Rudd"? He's everywhere. The Rudd-o-meter is off the charts. After 10 years of being force-fed his career by the media, I'm tired of seeing Paul's name everywhere. Six films this year! I can't even read the production notes to a film he wasn't even in without seeing his name. (Writing this blog is NOT helping.)

Okay, I get it! He's talented, charming, and (I'm secure enough to say it) good-looking. He's proven himself as a great comedic actor, and he obviously has a few connections in Hollywood. He's the best thing to happen to Overland Park since they built the Oak Park Mall.

All that I ask is that Paul take a vacation. He deserves a rest. Let the poor guy have some time alone with his wife and kid. He can take a year (maybe 18 months) to write a play, read some scripts, fart around with the Frat Pack.

Whatever. Just lay low for a while. Enjoy your success. Maybe if you go away, people will stop wondering why I am muttering under my breath at the movie rental store, in the theaters, and while I watch TV. Maybe I can prevent the aneurysm that is threating to make me apoplectic. Perhaps, one day, I can finally cleanse my vocabulary of those three dreaded words: "Paul F*@#ing Rudd."