The Future Mr. Renegade

I just saw Colin Farrell on the Tonight Show. At one point I bit my own arm in a confusion of lust and anger. I know that Colin has many female admirers but not one has helped him button up his shirt--and I can be that woman. Let's imagine that, shall we? I literally cannot take how much I like him. And my sister may be going to the Miami Vice premier. It's a quick jump from being a Movie Star Assistant to be a Movie Star Sister-in-Law. Please let's make that jump quickly. I am drawing my own blood here.

This is not a celebrity watching blog. It's not his fame I love--or, it's not his fame I love the most--but his accent, and his addiction to booze. Also his forearm tattoo. And the fact that actors are needy and I love the needy. In fact: I have a therapist, and my therapist is helping me define my own needs for the unconditional love I did not receive as a child, and so--listen here, Colin Farrell--my therapist says you should sleep with me. It's that simple. If you need an official letter I can get you one, and then you can be all "Hey, Angelina, there are all kinds of humanitarian giving" and I'll be winking in the background.