Oh, Natalie Portman, even though you’ve moved to France and married a ballet dancer and had a baby and sworn off nekkid movie roles and lost too much weight, how can I not stare at your bum on the carpet at Cannes when you’re wearing a see-through dress? That’s kind of rhetorical. I’ve been watching here for twenty minutes now. Natalie was once of great interest to me, her body most especially. And though she’s flown off our radar, impure feelings die slowly. Mine still burn. Seeing Natalie’s tush makes them burn a little more hot and all ember like.
Natalie, there is still time to salvage our one way feelings of lust and passion. First, a few sandwiches. I must insist. Second, we never ever speak of the ballet or men in tights or dancing on tiptoes ever again. You can keep the kid, but I’m going to need her or him with grandma during our Tuesday, Wednesday, and every other Friday sloppy but tender making of the sexy sessions that will run into the morning. No child should be forced to see that, or worse, hear it. Natalie, this see-through number is a good start. It’s a signal. Now, take the next step. You can go home again. Enjoy.
Photo Credit: Splash/INF