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Okay, so Mo and I were talking about the Sandra Bullock thing. You know, the dirty dog husband. The sex rehab (probably the next best thing he could find to dumbass rehab). Will she take him back? Should she take him back? Totally up to her. Marriages have survived worse. But really, what he did and the way he did it would be hard to forgive, and purt near impossible to forget.

But I have to admit I'm biased. And though, I am not immune to the rascally charms of one Jesse James, the truth is, if I'm being really really honest, the truth is, I hope that Sandra Bullock is at the grocery store (because in my mind she does her own grocery shopping), buying TV Guide and a pint of Chunky Monkey (because what else do you do when you get your heart broke?), and she looks up to see . . . Keanu Reeves (because, also in my mind, all celebrities live in the same neighborhood and shop at the same grocery store). She'll look pale and sad. And he'll look like he's recently had a shower (because it's MY fantasy, and I get to say what happens). She'll say "Hi" very quietly. And he'll say "Hi" quietly too. And then both say "I . . ." at the same time. Then he puts his hand on her arm, "I'm really . . ." "Thanks." Then they're both quiet again. Then he looks at her and she looks at him. And they both just know . . . And they both wheel their shopping carts into the sunset . . . together.

Okay. Again. It's MY fantasy and I get to say what happens. Cause I just know they belong together.