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July 29, 2004

"My gift is my fuuuuuug, and... this one's for you."

Once upon a time, I killed Hugh Grant in favor of marrying Ewan MacGregor and fucking the daylights out of George Clooney. I was proud of this decision. I didn't enjoy killing Hugh, but to borrow an idea from the squirrelly geek hotel magnate in Dirty Dancing, sometimes you have to do things that you don't want to do. It can't be helped. So with apologies, I measured Mr. Grant for his burial shroud.

And then, today came. Mr. Grant may have a reprieve on his hands. And we're not just talking a second chance at life; no, he's got himself a new bride-to-be. Because, my friends, in the photograph below, my former husband Ewan MacGregor is the one on the left:

Granted, this was taken after a three-month motorcycle ride across the nation, shot for a TV show on Bravo. But... Ewan, come ON, you were bright-eyed, clean-shaven, dreamy PERFECTION in Moulin Rouge. You were going to move into my house and rub my feet and bring me Diet Coke and serenade me, while also telling me I look pretty in that. You were NOT going to grow the Abominable Snowman's beard and take to chewing hay, spitting out bugs that got caught up in your teeth, and applying salve to your crotch to ease the bruises and pressure marks. Your eyes are supposed to sparkle with youthful, naive joy, not be dulled by the effects of funneling whiskey though an old exhaust pipe.

I just... I want "Your Song," not "Bad to the Bone." Something's got to give, Ewan, and please, for the love of GOD, let it be the fug.

Posted by Heather at 02:23 PM | Permalink


I like my boys sans naivete. I think he's way hotter than those lame Moulin days

Posted by: AngieQ | Feb 24, 2005 7:11:39 PM

As I recall, Ewan was not perfect in Moulin Rouge. There was a shade of fugliness to him... where was it? Ah, yes: THE TEETH. There's nothing worse than spotting a hottie with a beamingly gorgeous face, which shines with the warm light of charisma and sexual promise, when all of a sudden those edible lips start to crack and - no! Oh God, no! Don't let it be! Noooooo! - the piss-colored chompers emerge.

I doubt Ewan's roadtrip did anything to remedy this problem.

Posted by: Frances | Mar 16, 2005 2:50:09 PM

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