Reverting to my inner 13-year-old
I've decided that maybe there is something I can learn from the junior high girls I write for every day. When dealing with heartbreak, simply fall in love with dreamy Hollywood type. Celebrity crushes = safe. So, rational 24-year-old woman that I am, I've decided to fall madly in love with Orlando Bloom. Hey, I have a good reason. Last week, I had this dream that I saw Orlando at an Indian restaurant and he followed me outside when I left in order to walk next to me and kiss my hand and tell me how strikingly beautiful I am. I woke up and realized it was silly, but I felt happy the rest of the day. (I guess even fictional compliments are good for self-esteem.) So this weekend or next, I'll go see Kingdom of Heaven to catch a glimpse of my new love. Or maybe I should go hang out at a restaurant down on Curry Row. Never know who I might run into, right? OK, maybe I'm not feeling quite that silly.