Justin, I'm not stalking you.
'Member that time freshman year iat Bennington, you got in another fight with your blue 10-hole Doc Marten wearing girlfriend and you and cute sculpture boy who was visiting you at the college for the weekend came to crash with me and my two roommates? The two of you shacked up shirtless on our couch and I lay not 10-feet away from you in my single bed, thighs all a-twitter.
'Member how we flirted relentlessly before finally sneaking out of the Sucking in The 70's party to go fornicate in the grass at the End of the World? I was a Go-Go Dancer in gold hotpants and you were in full Evel Kneivel regalia.
Then you graduated. Then you were in "I Shot Andy Warhol". And "American Psycho". And then you played the director in "Mulholland Drive". Then, last year, I was walking along Broadway in the theatre district, looked up and saw you standing over me, bigger than I could ever hope for, in a Gap ad sandwiched between Danny Glover and Sissy Spacek.
Then you were "the one to watch" in Vanity Fair. Then you showed up in the season finale of my absolute favorite show "Six Feet Under" as Rachel Griffiths' new love interest.
Now "Charlie's Angels 2: Full Throttle" is about to open and you're totally in it. I caught a glimpse of you in one of the trailers. It was a fight scene with, I think, Miss Barrymore. You were all sweaty and hotly baring your pectorals.
I 'member those pecs. Call me.
