Olivia's Inappropriately-Obsessive-Idol-Worship

To my dad, to talk about personalities, to bitch, to analyze characteristics or neuroses is silly. His eyes laugh at me when I talk about psychoanalysis, and he starts to read his newspaper when I start sentences like "you won't believe what this girl at school said to me today..." 

But, I never took my dad's advice. I stoop instead quite low to Inappropriately-Obsessive-Idol-Worship. And on this blog, I would like to profess my love to Scarlett Johansson. 

Dear Scarlett, 

Since your virginal and unpierced days of a Girl with a Pearl Earring - that colour blue really suits you by the way - I have loved you. You washed those sheets with such intelligence and took to market so passionately, I would have learned painting just to be able to paint you. 

And, don't worry, you didn't lose me in translation, I stayed faithful when you became sexy. Your deep voice grew raspier as if you'd just finished your pack of slim cigarettes for the day, and were just popping out to the store for me, and we all know smoking's hot. Your curves made me want to sleep in a Louis Vuitton Suitcase. When you played evil in Match Point, I still loved you. When you tried silly with Woody that summer, with the magician and the smart car, I was there. Maria Cristina, I adored you, I was worried I would be distracted by Javier or Pen because they are faves of mine, but they just brought your beauty out more. That skinny neurotic I can talk faster about paint drying that you can sip your wine actress, what was she doing? Is he really just not that into you? If you say so. 

SJ, I'm yours. 

- Olivia