Sigh. (Heart)

I’ve let it be known on these pages that Jenifer Aniston is a Mrs. Xmastime; I would run over Angelina Jolie with a truck to get my snout up in that taut, tiny little rim. And now it looks like we even have stuff in common:

“But, as she got lonelier and the shoot for her new movie wore on, she started reaching out to him, sometimes very late at night and sometimes after a few too many glasses of wine.”

Fucking christ. Drunk smoke signals, drunk Pony express letters, drunk telegrams, drunk dialing, drunk texting and drunk blogging. What will science come up with next that I can completely humiliate myself with?

Sigh. Jen: drunk strip-o-gram me! I’m here for you, baby!