a love letter

Dear Christina Ricci,

Congratulations! You're my new crush. This is a high honor as I'm as picky as the day is long. What brought this on, you ask? Well, I watched you in Monster today and even though your character was an accessory to murder, I found myself getting that wee tingle any time you were on screen. As soon as the film ended, I performed the ultimate "I have a crush" ritual -- I looked you up on IMDB.com. Given the lesbian slant of this film and your Sapphic turn in The Laramie Project not to mention your outspoken abortion-rights activism, I thought you were a shoo-in for the Sisterhood.

I thought wrong. I hungrily read each of the bullet points in your various online biographies and my heart broke a tiny bit when I read, "Used to live with Matthew Frauman." But hey, I had several beards, er, I mean, boyfriends in my past so I thought there was still a chance. And then I read a quote attributed to you where you pretty much stated that you wanted to jump Josh Hartnett's bones. Again, I've made bold statements like that in the past to throw people off. However, hope started to wane but I sallied forth. Then I thumbed through an online picture gallery and there you were holding hands with your boyfriend on the red carpet at the Golden Globes. OUCH. Reality hit and it was a cruel bitch slap. Adam Goldberg, Christina?!?! Aw, come on!! Talented actor, yes, but he's second only to Christopher Walken in terms of creepiness. I find him unsettling.

I'm so disappointed. The good news is you're in impressive company -- Michelle Pfeiffer, Carrie Ann Moss, Maria Bello and scores of other frustratingly hetero actresses have issued the same devastating blow to me throughout the years. I survived those traumas and I'll trudge through this one. But seriously, when you wake up and realize that your boyfriend is scary, you just give me a jingle, k?

Love always... or until I develop a new dead-end crush,
Curly McDimple