I'm sexually attracted to Tony Goldwyn.

It started in Ghost. Got heated up in The Pelican Brief. Started crackling in the middle of Tarzan. Burst into flames during A Walk on the Moon. And now with his guest directing and acting in Dexter, it's a gentle smolder that will last for years. There was some cold water thrown on my sexual fire when he directed The Last Kiss. That piece of shit offended me in so many ways, and proved that Zach Braff is the squishiest douchebag today. I want to throw him under a train.Zach Braff, that is. Not my Tony Goldwyn. He will be forgiven for that hideous movie, but only because he is really, really hot.

I love Tippi Hedren's voice.

It's velvety and purry and a bit on the nasal side. I can't describe its utter enchanting-ness. I see why Hitchcock was obsessed with her. I just watched Marnie, and she's utterly bewitching. And I want to date all of Hitchcock's leading men. They're so suave and bossy and well-dressed and open the doors for you and light your cigarettes and put your fur coat on so smoothly and have really nice face wrinkles and deep, commanding voices.

I gots a crush...

On Mike Rowe. The man is a sexy beast. His broad, hairy chest makes me swoon. His deep, no-nonsense voice is a lullaby to my ears. His sense of humor makes my heart swell with desire. Mike...I want to marry you when I'm 35. Let's have a cottage in the Appalachian mountains with lots of goats and pugs and ducks and cows. But no babies. Definitely no babies.