2003-10-01

So I was babysitting my cousins. My uncle (unlike me) has cable and I was happily watching when the snotnoses had finally been put to sleep. I came across an indie romantic comedy about a woman who's so neurotic she is convinced any relationship she has will end in disaster. Despite my obvious kinship with the woman, I found myself drawn to the leading man.

Where had I seen him before? I could swear I'd seen him in something else. I focused and focused on him and wore myself out wondering about him. I finally decided I must be attracted to him. I mean, I wouldn't be thinking about him so much if I wasn't. I considered him for a while. He was kind of... intense. Almost frightening. Then I analyzed why I was drawn to men that seem like they might beat me for a while. I wasn't a battered child- though I was a latchkey kid. But that wasn't the point. Why was I so drawn to this man? Why did I find myself searching and searching his face every time he came onscreen? Why was there a strange nervous feeling in my stomach when I looked at him? I guess it was simple lust. I had a crush on the celluloid man. I'm a sick girl.

But I didn't yet know how sick I truly was...

I watched and watched and at one point the man turned around quickly and I actually screamed aloud. A sound that was half-fear, half-shame, For I had realized...

that he was...

none other than...

DONNIE PFASTER!!!!!!

The scariest serial killer in the history of The X-Files!

The most frightening man ever to cut hair and fingers off a dead prostitute!

The creepiest man ever to call the heater the "forced air unit!"

EEEEEEEEWWWWWWWW!

I'd been lusting after Donnie Pfaster!

I, of course, needed an immediate cleansing. I wasn't sure if it would be best to pour rubbing alcohol all over myself or to pour Clorox into my eyes. The eyes that looked on Donnie Pfaster and said "me likey." Ugh! I may never feel clean again.