Unable to part with Johnny Depp

Right here beside me is Johnny Depp, smiling from the June 26 cover of Newsweek. I am making an optimistic attempt to rid my living room of all this paper. I should toss this into the bag of recycled paper. Oh, but look at him …

There are lots of things I could think about today. My mom's health. Current events. My suck-o job/career. My longing for my best friend.

Or I could just look at Johnny Depp.

I'm sticking with Johnny.

He's simply gorgeous,and he refuses to trade on it. Pirates of the Carribean. Finding Neverland. Blow. Ed Wood. Secret Window. Charley and the Chocolate Factory. Considering how completely delicious he looks, these were not only daring career choices, they were downright perverse. I admire his sense of humor and sense of integrity. Oh, and his cheekbones and how he looks in jeans.

Now that I'm thinking good, clean, dirty thoughts: I am also in love with Bruce Willis. His effortless sense of cool. His (seeming) complete of vanity, in both his personal appearance and his career choices. In Lucky Number Slevin, he played the father figure to Josh Hartnett, an actor just about the same age as his ex-wife's new hubby. So much for caring about the image.

Then there's George Clooney. I never cared much about him, one way or the other, until Good Night and Good Luck. Loved the movie, love his point of view about free speech and the press, love how he looked in a tux during awards season. Love how he uses his fame to draw attention to genocide. Love how well he seems to get along with his dad. I hope he forgives me for ignoring him during the ER/Ocean's 11 hubub, and if there's still room on his bandwagon, I'd like to jump on.

I also get all swooney about Rob Lowe on The West Wing. (I'm into the reruns on Bravo.) He's so earnest and idealistic. And I love how he looks in those suits. Didn't I read somewhere that Aaron Sorkin based Rob's Sam Seaborn on George Stephanopolous when he worked for Bill Clinton? Sure, he's a pretty boy. But then I can be hot for a pretty boy with the right social conscience.

Then there's the pretty boy who is that and nothing else: Hugh Grant. Maybe he's a good actor. We've never really seen him stretch himself. But he's certainly a charming screen presence, and that's enough for me. And ever since I was a little girl, breathlessly enchanted by Paul McCartney, I've had a weakness for handsome Brits who can't keep their hair out of their eyes.

What a lovely respite this was! Thank you Johnny, Bruce, George, Rob and Hugh. I appreciate the stardust you've sprinkled into my mundane little life. But now it's back to housework.