Those familiar with my past celebrity crushes know that when I decide to take an interest in someone, it's not really just taking an interest, but more like secretly implanting a tracking device in their brains so I may follow their every step, witty phone call, and Starbucks visitation. I'm kind of like the Anthony Pellicano of the blogging world. Past subjects (victims) have included James Marsters (who is now too leathery of face and lame of TV role for me) and Jude Law (cheated with the nanny, ew, and subsequently behaved in a most petulant manner).
My fixation of late is upon one Josh Holloway, of Lost fame. Sure, he's kind of redneck-y and may bear a passing resemblance to a hotter K. Fed, but he's got some kind of X Factor at play here. In any case, I was in a coffe-deprived haze at work this morning, sitting beside some co-workers who were flipping through a copy of Us Weekly. The sound of their conversation about the glossy's contents sounded something like this:
"Mmmfgar mumble mumble blep mumble HOLLOWAY mumble mahhhh."
Well, I honed in like the world's honiest honing pigeon. "YOU MEAN THE GUY FROM LOST?" I said. "WHAT ABOUT HIM?" Once everyone had regained their hearing, they described the blurb written about him. Apparently, according to Us Weekly, Josh Holloway is a nice guy. They know this because someone saw him, out in the world somewhere, being nice. Uh, thanks, tabloid. Couldn't you have given me something juicier, something I don't know?
I already know the following things about Josh Holloway: he's nice, he grew up in the Blue Mountains of Georgia, he turned down the opportunity to play a prickish character in X-Men 3 because he was too busy playing a prickish character on Lost, thereby eliminating the possibility of making X-Men 3 less of a crapfest, and what he wants most in life is the chance to cuddle up to a short, mouthy Jew. And I don't mean Harvey Fierstein.
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