I swear to god, the woman's trying to kill me.
BTW, I have revised my earlier theory about what happens to us when we die if we've been good. I no longer think we go into a never-ending shower with a 21-year-old Virgina Madsen.
Now I think we get into an ever-warm bed which we never have to leave and in which every time we wake up, this is the first thing we see:
You make your heaven, and I'll make mine.
ETA: In a sense, this is some kind of an accomplishment. This blog is now listed on the Anne Hathaway Home Page at Guilty Obsession. Under the label, "Anne Hathaway Obsessors." I don't know that this is entirely fair, I mean, I wouldn't say that I was obsessed with Anne Hathaway...
I mean, I do find her awfully sexy and all, and it is kind of unfair how insanely beautiful she is. But I'm also pleased to see her winning acclaim as an actress, and I wouldn't want you to think that I...that is, that I...ah...that I...
Eyes...those eyes...good lord in heaven almighty, those eyes...
Okay, but I'm not the least bit guilty about it.
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