Failure of the Day: Fancy

As in Flights of. I don't imagine anything I've written in this blog left anyone with the impression that I am in possession of any degree of emotional maturity, but it's getting Springy outside in that "it's 61 degrees instead of 55 degrees" way that signals a good old San Francisco Springtime, and what's a girl to do except let her thought wander toward inappropriate crushes on celebrities?

By way of a disclaimer: Let's be clear, the thought of so much as actually kissing a person other than Chris makes me physically recoil. Truly. My chest and shoulders just go YUCK and pull back. I can't even really think about that realistically. So I'm not talking about anything real. This is parallel universe stuff at best. OK? OK.

I can actually justify my crushes on Paul Westerberg, Martin Amis, John Cusack, and so on. These are smart and talented fellas. Plus, I am extremely good at coming up with justifications. And I'm some kind of adult at least, and these strike me as respectable choices of men to have a little thing for. But yesterday I watched a little bit of an incredibly bad movie called Sweet Novemeber, and last week, I saw The Replacements (which is never about what I want it to be about), and it's just that all of a sudden like, I found myself thinking, "You know, when he plays a guy who is more or less an earnest loser, Keanu Reeves is really very appealing."

And then I have to go flush my head down the toilet because I am so appalled at my own self. I loathe Keanu Reeves. He's awful. He can't actually even speak convincingly. But god help me, the sun is shining through my window and suddenly, he's just dreamy. And damn him all to hell for being so attractive anyway. I'm not made of stone, people! And and and, Chris gets all distracted whenever Stockard Channing is on TV, so it's not like I'm the only bad one.

Ah, crap. Who am I kidding? I'm the bad one. God, I'm so ashamed!