ZBizzle

At this very moment I just fell madly in love with Zach Braff. It just happened. Wow. And no, I didn't just watch "Garden State"-- I watched that months ago. Bought a copy a few weeks ago. I was just sitting here, online banking and it happened. Bam! Splaadow~! In love with him.

Ok, so to sound less like a crazy person and more like a...well, a crazy person I guess, ZB is brilliant. He's funny, creative, seems to be really sweet, and doesn't take getting Punk'd very well. Apparently, he likes music, as do I. Undoubtedly, he's loaded, but he's the kind of guy you could absolutely adore even if he was poor. Yet, I'm basing this totally on the two-dimensional personality I see on tv where he pretends to be people he really isn't and reading his LiveJournal, which for all I know, could be written by a journalism major from USC that works as his intern (wow, what a great job!). Yet, just as I sat here figuring out where I'd spent all of my money this week, this affection for him just quadrupled and slapped me right in the neck. I'd sell my pinky toe to share a Coke and a cheeseburger with this guy. I'd bargin with my digits for an opportunity to sit and just chat with this quirky, loquacious neo-nerd with the most fantastic lips. Zach Braff is stunning. He's amazing when he pretends to be bored or heatbroken about some fabricated, no doubt scripted, emotion. When he sneezes, I believe it's love. [Ha! Ha! Ok, I just totally robbed that from a Counting Crows song.]

So me and 368,932 other women (and probably a fair amount of men) find this unattainable icon, this nebbish hunk, this self-deprecating anti-hero irresistible.

Zach Braff, please have a milkshake with me.