Well, dang.

So this morning, I'm on the University-Spadina subway to work, and I sleepily gaze over at someone reading one of the commuter dailies, when through my blurred vision, I see a really familiar face.

I wasn't sure I was seeing it properly, so I grabbed a copy lying nearby and got a really good look.

Guess who's staring back at me?

Well, dang, Wentworth.

You mean to tell me you rolled up into my hometown yesterday to promote my favourite show, and you couldn't even holla at a sista? What's THAT all about?

No, I'm serious. If you're going to be my pretend TV boyfriend, the least you could do is dial a couple of digits. And NOT 9-1-1, neither. I don't think I'm asking a whole lot and last time I checked, your fingers weren't broken.

When you were up in your frou-frou VIP tent downtown and listening to the adoring throngs of squealing girls and women over at Massey Hall, know what I was doing? Just guess. No, go ahead. Guess. Don't know? No? Give up?

Here's an image for you, sweetie: Me. In my workout gear. Slumped over my HUGE knapsack. Sleeping on my long, lonely subway ride home. Slobbering on my own arm.

For someone my age, that's neither attractive, nor funny. At ALL.

Do you know where I could've been? Down. TOWN. You could've prevented the aforementioned image of pity. The outcome could've been different. You let me down, dude.

Stop smirking! Stop it! You really have some nerve! I'm really beginning to think you're playin' games. You say you're too busy to call, you can't come and see me 'cause of your hectic schedule, and then next thing you know, you whisk through town.

Like I WASN'T going to notice. You didn't think someone wasn't going to take a picture? Seriously? You're all over Just-friggin'-Jared-dot-com!

Oh n-no. Don't you start gazing at me with that Blue Steel! Not this time. You're not getting off that easy. The sleepy eyes and hint of a slow smile may work with all the other women, but not me. Nuh-uh. You know what you are? You're a cad, a scoundrel who uses his good looks like a sexual weapon. You, sir are a ... a ... Ooooh!

You make me so mad I could just ... I ... I ... I ...

Sigh.

Okay, fine. FINE. I give up. I'm letting you off this time, mister. But next time, call.