Well, well, well. Just yesterday, I implored Ellen Page to wear something in green, and HERE WE ARE:
I wonder what else I can make happen via the power of my words. Lindsay Lohan, why don’t you decide to enter a long-term rehab program and then attend a small liberal arts college where you major in zoology and spent a lot of time thinking about monkeys and no time at all thinking about how not being allowed to ditch your classes is a violation of your civil rights? John Stamos, why don’t you go back in time and decide against allegedly taking those two underage girls back to your hotel room, so I don’t need to spend any more time worrying that you might be secretly gross? Jon Hamm, why don’t you come over and kiss my neck and then make me a martini? With three olives, please. Yes: I like all of these. I can’t wait until all of those events come to pass. Thanks for teaching me that The Secret IS real, Ellen! As a sign of my appreciation, I won’t even mention that I don’t really like your shoes all that much.