Last night as I lay in bed with visions of Gerard Butler racing through my mind like cracked out ghetto babies, I decided I need to write him a love letter. Because I could really see myself spawning his crib midgets. I'm pretty sure Erf would forgive me.
Friday, March 12, 2010
My dearest Gerry (because I've heard you prefer to be called that - I've stalked you on IMDb and Wikipedia),
Let me start off by saying that until The Phantom Of The Opera, I had never really heard of you. Then one day I decided, on a whim, to rent the film. And in the scene where the Phantom brings Christine down the hidden passageway - I was spellbound. Those eyes, the set of mouth. And then, oh dear sweet drenched panties, there was that VOICE. The voice that made my heart beat faster, my breath hitch, and my sex clench (Ha, I've always wanted to use that phrase).
And that was it. I was hooked on you. Like young, naive kid after his first shot of heroin.
Then you did P.S. I Love You. For the love of all that's holy, that movie should come with super-absorbent undergarments for the ladies. Because really? I needed a new couch after that one.
This may sound a bit unusual, but I think I much prefer you in Law Abiding Citizen. I have a thing for dark, intelligent psychopaths. And the scenes where you were explaining step-by-step what exactly you were planning for Darby? Sent shivers down into my girly bits.
You're a brilliant actor, but from the descriptions you sound as if you're just as wonderful in person. And I could totally see us living a beautiful life together, singing Phantom Of The Opera songs (even though you've got a MUCH better voice than I do, you'll love my singing because you'll be so devoted to me that I won't be able to do any wrong)(Because, duh, I'm so awesome that who DOESN'T love me once they meet me?). By the way, my son absolutely loves Phantom Of The Opera, and can you imagine how thrilled he'd be to have the Phantom as his daddy?
GERRY, WON'T YOU THINK OF THE CHILDREN?!!!1??
Furthermore, I can bake the shit out of stuff. So come over for dinner, and I'll make bridie and burnt cream.
And we can further discuss when exactly I'll be moving in with you as your sex toy and the other half of your love's duet. I breathlessly anticipate you teaching me how to properly pronounce your first name in that sexy Scottish accent. I'll even wear paisley socks. Haha, get it? Because you grew up in Paisley, Scotland?
Because Gerry, you're gonna love me. Don't worry about my husband, it'll be okay. He's totally aware of how insanely attracted I am to you.
The future Mrs. Butler
Served up by Sassy Pie at 9:59 AM