in thrilling new projects, croftie and i've decided that we're going to marry me off to james franco.
because he is obviously very considerate and kind (look how attentive he is to the needs of that panic-stricken stuffed bear?). but also because james franco seems like a generally madcap, whimsical, excessively earnest sort of fellow with a fondness for all things meta. and with me being a generally madcap, whimsical, excessively earnest sort of lass with a fondness for all things meta, well... you can see how a love affair betwixt us is destined to climax in happily ever after.
but how to convince james franco that i am The One?
while i contemplated informing him of our shared love of taxidermied beasts (why helloooooooo, james franco. I HEART BEARHEADS TOO!!!), o wise croftie encouraged a characteristically wiser, subtler approach. since he is apparently hell-bent upon destroying the inexplicable awesomeness of his inexplicable general hospital stint by explaining away the inexplicableness to the wall street journal so he comes off looking like a pompous performance art douche instead of the madcap, whimsical, excessively earnest sort of fellow we all know him to be, croftie suggested that i propose myself to him as his editrix.
so, yes. james franco, if you're out there, if you're reading this, take me now. i will totally make your words do the work you want them to do.
(did i mention i heart bear heads too???)