Strange Brew

So Kirsten's watching Private Practice in the background, while I'm screwing around on the internet (reading about Sean's new dog, which is pretty ironic in and of itself).

So anyway, Taye Diggs finishes the episode without many clothes on, and Kirsten says, "Taye Diggs is pretty without his shirt on," in the same tone of voice in which you might say, "I'd like to leave my entire family for that man."

Grumblegrumble.

Anyway, as a one-week recap, I met Peter Sarsgaard at Starbucks in Clayton last week, the day after he did a speech on campus (remember, he's a WU alum). Dude needs a shave. He had this unkempt beard that looked vaguely like a dirty Brillo™ pad that once was white but now was sort of a grayish-brown. And he had this green jacket that you can just tell is his favorite. You know, the way you can tell that a certain teddy bear is a child's favorite because it's missing on eye and half its right arm? Yeah, same thing.

I've always thought of myself as fairly collected, when I need to be. But what happens when I run into this monotonal semi-celebrity whose greatest accomplishment is boinking Maggie Gyllenhaal?

I just sort of point and go "puh-puh-puh-puh-puh...."

Thank God it wasn't Kevin Costner.