Gay? Gay? Waaaaaaah! A couple of chicks at work were discussing some TV host that was coming out of the closet. “No way is she gay! Oh my god! That’s like… that’s like…”

I jumped into the conversation. “That’s like Bruce Willis saying he’s gay!

“Bruce Willis is not gay!”

I said, “Good. Because every day when I get home, I take my husband by the shoulders and shake him, screaming, ‘Why aren’t you Bruce Willis?'”

“That’s terrible!”

“And when I’m done, he takes me by the shoulders, shakes me, and screams, ‘Why aren’t you Drew Barrymore?'”

Well, when they finished laughing, we decided that it would be OK if we had confirmation that Billy Zane, on the other hand, was gay, because he’s too gorgeous to be really attainable anyway. And that a prerequisite of an attractive man is one that has an eyebrow that goes BREWP! all by itself.

Except for my husband, who doesn’t, as a rule, fall into categories well, and, in fact, has two eyebrows that go BaDEEEBLEDEEBLEDEEBLE like Groucho Marx’s.