My celebrity crush

Every time I'm away for work, I find that I need to have the TV on as I'm falling asleep (and I love it when the Sleep function on the TV is working, and I have disproportionate anger and frustration when it is not). So last night, I turned in around midnight, turned on Leno and...behold! My girlfriend was in the chair! Reese Witherspoon.

I just love, love, love her for some reason. In high school, my friend Erin and I would watch "The Man in the Moon" over and over and over (although it's lost something over time; I now feel like it's a little too slow and a little too cheesy, but Reese is still awfully good), and I've loved Reese ever since. And I always hold my breath a little when I see her being interviewed, because I'm worried that at some point I'm going to just totally hate her, and I so don't want that to happen.

But last night she did not disappoint. She talked about her kids, which reminds me of the way Minnams talks about her kids, with a little bit of my friend Jenny thrown in there; she was incredibly gracious and had done her homework about Jay's history with Johnny Cash and motorcycles and stuff so she could ask him nice questions back; and she had moments of sheer dorkiness, where she was trying to be funny and just fell a bit flat. And it made me love her even more, because I'm a big sucker for a dork.

All of my male celebrity crushes -- Kirk Cameron, Bruce Springsteen, Tom Cruise, even John Cusack, sadly -- have all sort of had brief shining moments in the sun, followed by indifference (Kirk, Bruce) or ardent hatred (yeah, that's you, Tom), or peaks and valleys over time (Cusack).

But my Reese has consistently stood the test of time; may it always be so.