Happy Birthday, Mr. Brand

It's not that I want to be attracted to Russell Brand. It's not like I took one look at the dead possum on top of his head and said, "THAT is what I want to run my fingers through get my whole arm caught in." It's just one of those weird celebrity crushes that has nothing to do with anything, but is so outlandish and peculiar that, really, how could you NOT tell the world about your fixation on this hot mess? It's like when you fall down the subway stairs in front of 200 strangers and them email all your friends about it: it's really embarrassing and kinda hurts a little, but you had to tell someone.