A love letter to Michael Fassbender…
My dearest Michael,
I love you so much. Sometimes when I look through new photos of you, I can’t breathe properly, which is what just happened as I gazed upon these new photos of you. I love your ginger. I love your beard. I love your beautiful eyes. I love your shark smile. I love that you seem to be covered in cigarette ash and lint on the red carpet for the London premiere of Prometheus. I love that you seem to be making a conscious effort to not pose too closely to Charlize Theron, because I think you realize that she’s obsessed with you (and The Fassdong). I don’t fault Charlize for her obsession – it makes me feel like she and I have at least one thing in common. Still, that bitch needs to wait in line.
Speaking of the Fassdong… I can’t help it, I love it too. I almost wrote a love letter to your dong. My apologies. I realize that paying so much attention to your anatomy takes away from your work. I understand that it’s no longer funny to you, and you don’t want to be seen as a “one trick pony” (even though you’re hung like a proverbial horse). I comprehend, although I do think that you’ve contributed to people’s sexual obsessions by talking about “unleashing the beast” and “wrecking the sweetshop.” Be fair now. It’s not ALL on us. That being said, I’ve been trying to cut back on the Fassdong references, but it’s difficult because I really do love EVERY part of you. I could write a love letter to your hands. Or to your shark teeth. Or to your eye crinkles.
I hope Prometheus is a big hit for you. I hope the film is so successful that somewhere in Japan, scientists actually begin work on an anatomically-correct Fassy/David dong-bot, which will eventually go to market in America and I can finally have you (or a version of you). I hope you get Oscar buzz for this, or for one of your other films coming out in the next few years. I was very disappointed that you didn’t get nominated for Shame, and I know you were too. You’ll just have to trust the fact that you are beloved and respected, and pretty much everyone in Hollywood wants to work with you. Please don’t work with Charlize again – I don’t think she would be able to keep her hands to herself.
I hope you won’t be offended if I say that right now I’m picturing you rubbing your ginger beard across my stomach. I have to go now… I need to change my panties.
Love,
K
Photos courtesy of WENN, Pacific Coast News.
