I’ve always thought of Colin Farrell as one of the biggest douches of my generation but for whatever reason (and a big lack of touching and all-things-sexy this past weekend), I found myself in a staff kitchen break-room leaning over the sink while dirty bastard Colin had his way with me from behind.
And it was quick and I didn’t really remember too much of it (probably better that way, or else I’d have to take a scalding hot shower and shave off a layer of epidermis just to feel somewhat clean again).
And it was after I woke up from sleeping with Justin Timberlake in a white sleeping bag on the scratchy carpet of an office.
And that was after I had wonderful romp with Hugh Jackman in another sleeping bag, which was conveniently placed beside Justin’s sleeping bag.
And I still woke up this morning, feeling completely unsatisfied.
Selectively Bitchy 
Wow, chickie. I’m thinking we need to find you some satisfaction before you start meowing like a crazy cat in heat. We might have to lock you in a room if that happens.