Internet, I adore you.  You had me at your lookiness (or lack thereof).

I got no fewer than 16 emails telling me that Ellen had My Matthew on her show.  One of you even went as far as looking up the time that Ellen is on in my area. (But she asked me very nicely not to out her here.  So I totally won’t.  For other things, perhaps.  But not when you lead me to my Matthew.) Yes, I did catch it.  And, yes, I did TiVo it.  But no, I was not super impressed with the interview.  (Although he can tickle my ankle anytime.) And the whole rubbing of the meat thing?  Sign me up baby.

Don’t worry, my friends.  Clint is totally fine with my admiration here.  It’s not like he doesn’t have a List of Five, too.  He totally does.  And he totally didn’t go see the movie Elektra because it was such a cinematic masterpiece.

After my craptacular couple of days, you, my dear Internet, made me smile with your comments, sweet emails, Matthew tracking and empathy.  Thank you for being understanding and not completely telling me to kiss your collective asses.

(I so don’t want to deal with the Internet’s collective asses.  Truly.)

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