I mean, I know you really, really, really want me to be, and it’s really the only thing that’s going on in your little bubble of life right now, but I just don’t have it in me to do it, sweetheart. You kicked the Eternal Douche Ryan Reynolds to the curb, and I respected you for that. I felt you as an artist branching out on her own, not wanting to be held back by the constraints of a partner with sub-par acting skills in sub-par movies, a partner who’s main decisions in life amounted to “Which of the three same douchey plots should I act in this month” and “Which gym should I go to today.” Then you started dating Sean Penn, and just because I have an older-man-fetish thing myself, I thought it was kind of hot. Then, when he decided that he wanted to move onto some younger poon, you had to be That Girl and cling, cling, cling, and I? Well, I shook my head in sadness and moderate disbelief. After that, it all went downhill. You released some unimpressive nudes and threatened to have the FBI shoot up our doors for having the sheer audacity to look at them, and then you balked and talked about how much your privacy means to you. But OK, girl. If this is how you want to play, have at it. I’m still not going to see your silly movie, though, understand?
Won’t see it for the simple reason Scarlett is no Diana Riggs, aka Emma Peel!
NOT THE SAME AVENGERS.
Heads up, the structure of this article just made me skip right past it.
AUGH. I keep forgetting that all those Marvel movies have been building to this moment! (OK, I didn’t see Iron Man 2, and I know this is sacrilege, but I fell asleep during Thor.) But! I finally watched Captain America and by its end, I was ALL IN.