Brad is Crazy, Y'all.

I heard a rumor that Brad Pitt visits a friend of his in our ski town. Sometimes when I'm at the bar playing pool I think how suave I'd be if he happened to walk in. I'd wait a few minutes for the crowd around him to dissipate. Then I'd saunter up while suggestively holding my pool stick. I'd order a cosmopolitan, and wave towards Brad when the bartender brought it over, all oh he's got this one...

ZG: Hey, so I hear you're my biggest fan.

Brad: Well, I wasn't until you just said that.

ZG: Yeah, I know. That was like, a really cool thing to say, wasn't it?

Brad: You are totally hot.

ZG: I know.

Brad: And cool.

ZG: So I hear.

Brad: Wanna hang out?

ZG: Oh no. I already have a husband.

That would be the beginning of the end, so to speak. He would be so enthralled with me that he would start showing up wherever Zube Boy and I were having dinner, and peeking in my windows while I was getting dressed for work. It would be a bit of a thrill in the beginning to be 'Celebrity Stalked' but then it would just get old.

Zube Girl: Honey.

Zube Boy: What?

ZG: Brad is at the window watching me put on my pajamas again.

ZB: Goddamnit! This is getting really old. How many fucking times do I have to beat up Brad Pitt before he realizes you're my hot wife? Geez.

You know, that would be kind of annoying.

I think that instead of being all coy and sexy if I ever see Brad, I'll wield my pool stick like a lampoon, glare at him, and say, "Dude, you're fucking nuts! Stay the hell away from me you crazy stalker!"

'Cause I just don't have time for stalkers. Even celebrity ones. I mean, I'm happily married, Brad. Get over it. 'Kay? And I don't even fucking like cosmopolitans anyway. I'm just not ready for Hollywood.