give her my autograph & tell her it's been nice knowing you

i was recently challenged to name the five celebrities i'd "hit." first, let me say that this was a tough assignment for me. because i like to be grounded in bitter reality (ha!), the chances of encountering any of these individuals (especially since one is deceased, making it twice as tricky), is slim, and honestly, there's not a big market for hollywood activity in the midst of the midwestern suburbs. so i don't dwell a lot on these things (stop laughing and pointing to the "mike rowe reaction").

also, since i'm creating this fantasy, i'm going to say that in all likelihood, unless these men are overcome by my powers of charm and seduction and immediately wish to "hit" me first (feasible, yes. remember my penchant for reality. i'm not gonna sell myself short on my own blog, my friends), i'm gonna ask for a dinner, perhaps some scintillating conversation and an opportunity to gush appropriately about why i love them before proceeding to the hitting.

so, in no particular order, i give you my five "hittable" celebrities. i'll open the floor for debates and discussion following:

bono - because really, all you need is three chords and the truth. because when he sings 'desire' i can feasibly pretend it's to me ("in hollywood tonight..."). because he's intense and passionate and smart and snarky and has stubby fingers, and isn't afraid to make fun of himself. because 'all i want is you' breaks my heart every damn time i hear it, for many reasons. and because when i saw them perform in concert, parts of my body that i didn't even know could get hard stiffened up like diamonds in the arctic when the spotlight hit him.

mike rowe - my case has been made, really. women of the world (or, apparently, at least those who stop by here) tend to agree. the man is hot. dead sexy. smart. snarky. obviously not afraid to get messy or try things some of us wouldn't dream of. will put his arm into places arms shouldn't go. yep. mike rowe gives me that good thing. we all know what i'm talking about. don't make me say it again (though i'm thinking it and i really want to...).

michael hutchence - dead is a detail. if sex was an actual "being," something that could get up and walk and breath and talk, it would be michael hutchence, and i'd want to be trailing behind him. "because we all have wings, but some of us don't know why...." because i never fail to be crushed by the thought of making wine from my tears. short hair. long hair (preferrably long, though...sorry...). you know that with him, it would be nasty and intense and exhausting and you'd want to do it all again as soon as it was over (well, i'm gonna assume to know).

kiefer sutherland - since 'the lost boys.' jason patric in 'the lost boys'? oh, hell yes! but when i was done with jason, give me the bad boy with the bleached blond hair. because i would totally get off hearing him say "the following takes place between 1 a.m. and 2 a.m." in that whispery, sexy voice directly into my ear. because he's freakin' jack bauer, people! he obviously has the stamina to go 24 hours without food or breaks of any sort.

anthony bourdain - now i'm not so sure i want to technically 'hit,' anthony bourdain, but i'd dig hanging out with him. because he's snarky to the point that you don't know if he's hitting on you or making fun of you. passionate and willing to try new things. no discernible vices. hell of a writer. poetic. obviously, the man can cook, so that's a huge selling point. i'm just not sure i'm up to eating pig parts and intestines, but if he convinced me, then maybe (but probably not...). so because of those things, i'd probably flirt it up with him and after a few pints, sure. anything's possible.

obviously snarky and passionate go a long way in my list of qualities necessary to pretend to hit it with. perhaps because i like to think myself as such, who knows? what i do know is, i'm in the suburbs and unless some secret ops team threatens to unleash a vial of nerve gas into our community, kiefer won't be stopping by to pull me away from a foreign tongued underground radical, bono won't be rising up to support our cause after the fact, and i'll be too overcome by the time mike shows up to help with the clean-up, leaving tony (because i like to pretend that he likes me to call him tony) diverting his flight to my home state because, honestly, he won't want to come feature the "white bread, trans fat laden" cuisine of the midwest on his show, anyway, nevermind the residual nerve gas and bono's potential for preaching.

and michael? well, michael sings with the angels.

but sure, it's fun to think about. "so crawl over here, and give me a moment..."