After watching Lucky Number Slevin yesterday, I couldn't help but ask myself why there aren't more movies featuring Josh Hartnett strutting about in naught but a towel. I would pay good money to see that more often, and I would bet my bottom dollar that I'm not the only person on this planet who feels that way.
On a related note, I spent my entire weekend watching shirtless men kicking ass. Guns were fired, blood was spilt, men were killed. Lots of things exploded. Many women, myself included, swooned at the shirtless men and their ass-kickery. All in all, it was a grand time.
And then I snapped out of my action movie marathon reverie and realized that, oh snap!, I have nine binders worth of work due tomorrow morning. Perhaps this is why there aren't more Josh-in-a-towel movies being made. My procrastination is denying you the right to a more fabulous world! Avast! If this is the case, I give the universe permission to smite me where I sit. Surely, one cannot die for a more noble cause.