Well Thursday sucked ballbags so like a fat sorority girl I treated myself to a light comedy starring the hunky George Clooney while pouring cocoa puffs straight from the box into my face. No but seriously, Intolerable Cruelty and the following year's Ocean's 12 have a couple great things in common: 1. awesomeness; 2. Clooney (hammy and slick, respectively); 3. female lead Catherine Zeta-Jones photographed in a staggeringly luminescent manner. Holy fuck in those two flicks CZ-J is so profanely attractive that the usual pulses of sweaty lust are nearly replaced in me with undisguised and worshipful longing. It gets hard to concentrate on bringing to fruition a totally hypothetical plan to oh say spirit her to a pirate ship, where she'd demand her release at first but reluctantly relent to my rugged charm. According to countless reveries in which I smilingly indulge the sexual electricity on deck would sap my patience for her inevitable pouting, and as a result I'd suddenly bite down on the shoulder of her dress and, with a kick to the small of her back, send her ripping out of it and into nakedness. We'd pause for vaginal reconstructive surgery to counteract effects from six dozen Douglases she's shat out of that thing and then, hypothetically, we'd travel to the fourth dimension all off up in there. I have another one where we bump into each other in a Sony studios elevator and it starts out kinda like that scene in Intolerable Cruelty but then she puts my well that one's kinda private. It involves dancing bikini mannequins (above).