In any event, the dream is over. Rachel has done something unforgivable. Something so irrevocably horrible that she's been removed permanently from the masturbatory minds of pubescents and dirty old men alike: she's started dating that whiny, Star Wars-ruining, cry-baby. No, not George Lucas. She's going out with, the chosen one, Hayden Christensen. The actor who answered the question, what if the great Sith Lord Darth Vader were a smug little twit who threw tantrums like the kid down the street who took his Nerf ball and went home when he started losing?
And while Rachel's decision is soul-crushing, at least she has the good sense to lie about it. When asked what the "H" on her bracelet stood for, Bilson denied it had anything to do with Hayden, and, instead, replied:
That might seem lame, but really, who can blame her? Hell, I'm sure she'd be willing to make up all sorts of H-based lies to avoid acknowledging the sex she's having with Hayden Christensen. Seriously, wouldn't any of the following explanations still be more dignified?
- Heroin. I'm tragically addicted to heroin.
- Herpes. My vagina is incurably riddled with Herpes.
- Hell. I love Hell, and I am a pround member of the Church of Satan.
- Hitler. I'm not a neo-Nazi, but what can I say? I dig Der Fuhrer.
- Hermaphrodite. I, Rachel Bilson, am a Hermaphrodite. But rest assured, neither my penis nor vagina is gonna get anywhere near that douche Hayden Christensen.
Gladstone writes for Cracked and others. Check out his latest offering or go to Wayne Gladstone Lives in Maine to see all his published stuff, his full name, and state of residence.