I know that Rachel Weisz is kind of married or something to James Bond, but that has done little to squelch my super secret teen-diary type crush on the Hebrew School hottie whose children I would like to bear. Or vice-versa. I’m flexible. Just so long as we couple in the manner of our forebears, preferably thrice an evening before some type of roaring fire. Although Rachel would have to build the fire, I was kicked out of Boy Scouts for inappropriate allowing of touches before we got to fire building.
Featured in Esquire’s current edition, Rachel ever looks classy, hot, and kind of like the alluring new neighbor on the block you make an excuse to go visit. I don’t bake or have any useful household skills, so I usually just drop by and invite the fine ladies to be part of my neighborhood watch program, which is mostly me and a flashlight and some borderline invasions of privacy. Oh, Rachel, you are a fine looking woman. Enjoy.
