Hi, my name is Brando, and I'm a dirty old man.
I don't know how this happened, but I do know when: during the opening minutes of Lost in Translation, when the camera pans over the moon peeking from between the clouds of Scarlett Johansen's underwear.
Shortly thereafter, she was on the cover of Esquire in a pose that almost made me drop the magazine. Now, I had seen her in Ghost World, and I knew she was young, but I figured she was probably around 25. Lo and behold, I turned to her interview, and the writer noted that it was six weeks before her 20th birthday. That made me drop the magazine. I think I let out an Ignatious Reilly-esque, "Oh my God!"
That was child's play, though, compared to the dark, dirty, icky sin of Lindsay Lohan. At least Johansson looks older, can act, and isn't one-step away from dancing around a pole. Bear in mind that I wasn't happy with the Lohan crush—which developed after seeing Mean Girls—and I was desperately seeking a cure.
Well, the ever-clever TLB found a way to cure me: The Libido Trap. Head over and see what she did, especially with the second picture she links to. Let me tell you, I am free of The Lohan.
But not Scarlett. I don't give a damn if I was 28 when she made The Horse Whisperer. I can't quit her.