Craig Ferguson announced on his Late Late Show that over the holidays he got married in Vermont. Even though he said he would not walk down the aisle again, he finally did tie the knot with his long time girlfriend Megan Wallace Cunningham. Although after some of the comments he made during his announcement, I am not sure how long his marriage will last!!!
Megan now that he is beating Conan O’Brien in the ratings, I would hold off on filing until after he signs his new contract with CBS…half that should be better than what he is making now.
Has anyone checked the divorce rules in Vermont? Are they more for women than men? I was stunned he was able to keep that under the radar so well. Good for him.
Sounds like it was a small wedding. Small weddings, longer marriage; big weddings divorce court!! And now, I’m thinking he’ll have more children, a sibling for his 7-year-old!
The clock is ticking on this one. How long before we hear the pitter-patter of little feet. Then how long before she decides she’s sick of his antics. Or even worse, what happens if he falls off the wagon? OMG!
He’s already goofy on cold/pain medication. But I am praying this one will last . . . so is he!! LOL!!
Hollyweird is a dangerous mind-field for marriages. Pray this one will hold up. Tick . . . tick . . . tick . . .
[ # 247071 ] Comment from rob [January 7, 2009, 9:53 am]
[…] Another one bites the dust: Craig Ferguson got married. […]
[ # 256873 ] Comment from elizabeth rose [January 23, 2009, 7:12 am]
I’ve been dumped from Craig’s List. Not because I’ve been caught scamming an unsuspecting piano seller. Not that Craig’s List. I’m talking Craig Ferguson’s list. The one I thought, in my fantasies, I might be on — since I discovered the Late Late Night Show’s host about a year ago.
I discovered the enigmatic, attractive Scotsman last year by DVR-ing his late night talk show at the suggestion of another middle aged girlfriend. OMG - this guy is great. He’s fresh, he’s funny, he’s proud to be a new American, he’s as solicitous of his guests as Carson, his skits can be brilliant. Googling away, I discovered his films, rented them, read his novel. I have another middle aged girlfriend who is smitten. A hot momma of two spectacular kids- former Broadway chorine, producer, smart, funny chick. She stood in line after his Town Hall standup during Xmas, waiting for him to come out and sign her copy of his novel. I was jealous because it was sold out and I couldn’t get a seat. Then she told me that he snuck out another exit while she shivered with her 14 year old son, waiting for his mark. When we get together for organic riz at Le Pain Quotidian, inevitably, our conversation finds Craig. I dream of being a guest on his show. A musical guest. He should love my cd. He’d like the title: “Sleep Naked”. It swings, it’s literate, it’s got daggers…surely, he’d want to be my friend. He’d put me on his list. And so we gals continue to fantasize that this great new dude - this northern blast of fresh air would surely dig us. Women of substance. Women of accomplishment, with track records, substance, beautiful, deep, love lines sculpted around our eyes. We know you’d really like us cause Craig, you’re special. You’re deep. You’re unusual. Not the typical superficial white middle aged guy all full of himself ’cause you’re on tv. Not you Craig. You’d want us on your list. If only to be your friend.
Today everything has changed. Home from a long day, I hit “list” on my remote and play last night’s Late Late Show. In the two minute teaser, I see Craig’s fingers rising slowly in front of the tv set. He’s not chanting, “People of Earth”, as before. Hark, his vocal chords mimic the herald of a trumpet as the hand slowly rises. It’s his left hand. As the tops of his fingers rise, they reveal a gold band on his fourth finger. Craig is wearing a wedding band.
Waitaminute!! He’s sworn he’d never get married again. He’s sworn many times it would NEVER happen again. Two marriages are enough, he’s often exclaimed and then does a fake spit. OK. So he lied. As he talks about his wedding, he seems so happy. I want him to be happy. After all, that’s what love really is. Wanting the person you love to be happy. Yes, no doubt about it: he’s ebullient. He shows the picture from their wedding. He and his new wife, Megan, are sunk into the Vermont snow. He’s wearing a kilt. Makes a few jokes about how the cold felt on his lower extremities and I laugh. But I can’t really see his wife. She’s in profile, wearing a veil. And snow boots. She’s gotta be cool. Weathered, smart, sexier because her passages have brought her to him. She’s risen from her long experience becoming fonder, more loving. With slightly worn treads, she’s solid and like me and my friends….
Google flashes a picture of the two of them from some September party. I enlarge it. In disbelief, I get my first full frontal look at her. She’s blonde - maybe 25 years old. Standing next to him, she looks like his daughter.
WHATT!!!. Craig has married a twinkie? How can that be? I had so much hope for him as harbinger of the new age of manhood. A big guy who loves women of substance, bonds with them, is hot for them. But no. It’s not to be. He’s found himself a girl who looks like she was sent to him from central casting to fill in the role of his third wife. Take that middle aged women fans!!! They sent me a hot chick and she’s mine. I don’t need her for intellectual companionship. I fancy her because she’s hot. Did I mention she’s young, she’s blonde and she’s skinny and….well…
To be fair, this Megan chick might be a very lovely person. I don’t want to be so superficial as to judge her by her hair and weight. Maybe there’s something special about her. Perhaps she’s worked in the slums of Calcutta. Getting a friggin’ suntan.
I haven’t felt this way since they announced George Harrison married Patty Boyd. Me and the other girls in my Beatles copy band held a funeral that day.
I’m going back to my husband. He loves me in my baggy pajamas. He loves me for my mediocre cooking. He loves me even though I’m over 50 and am still working on becoming a child star.
Take that late night white guy talk show host who doesn’t stand out from the pack after all because all you old guys need twinkies to make you feel alive! My friend just told me that’s it, she’s getting rid of her blonde hair and going dark. She’s going to DVR Conan from now on. Conan’s funny but I’m not going to switch to him. I’m going to go out to a blues club and wail about my broken heart. When the club closes at 4am, I’m going to the corner deli and purchase a shrink wrapped Twinkie. I’m going to put it in my mouth, chew it up and spit it out and start this year right where I belong: with Oprah.
I understand your pain and frustration. I do think it’s unfortunate that women are so dependent on men to feel validated, sexy and relevant. I secretly fancied that Craig fancied me as well. I think he knows how to make us all feel appreciated and noticed. It’s one of the reasons we love him I guess. Like you I’m single and I guess I’m in the “cougar” category, except I don’t date younger men. Actually I’m not dating at all right now, and what I like best about this is that I am a truly happy, vibrant, energetic person - in spite of the fact that Craig married someone else that isn’t me, and doesn’t even remotely resemble me. Oh well. Truthfully I’m as close to him as I want to be, with about 3500 miles between us. I get a little creeped out that his shows more often than not contain something specific about my life, like he’s tuned into me without even knowing I exist. I shudder to think of how much he could tune in if he actually met me. So I’ll continue to admire him from afar and give my shroud of mystery and extra hug and snuggle tonight. Go Craig! Go Cougars!
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