Julie's Big Hollywood New Year's Resolutions
- Meet and marry Jake Gyllenhaal despite the media's mean-spirited Demi/Ashton comparisons.
- Legally change name to Julie Gyllenhaal, Ph. D. because I damn well like the sound of it.
- Go on double dates with Maggie Gyllenhaal and Peter Saarsgard. Remark on all those cool double As in our names. Consider acessorizing with umlauts.
- Divorce Jake Gyllenhaal, whom I publicly accuse of fraud after one too many mountain weekends away with "an old fishing buddy."
- Surrender double A and any and all future claims to umlaut.
- Write the great American screenplay; sell in bidding war between The Baron and The Doctor for fifteen thousand yen.
- Publish juicy Hollywood tell all.
- Guest star on Oprah, stand on couch, punch air.
- Despite daily gorging on bacon and chalupas, suffer spontaneous weight loss, like Star Jones-Reynolds.
- Walk wiener dogs on Harry Winston leashes along the red carpet to the Oscars.
Win in a surprise upset over Woody Allen. Thank Mom, Dad, Jesus, my newfound friends at CAA, the unsung heroes of Hurricane Katrina and the troops in Iraq.
- Finally introduce myself to longtime Imaginary Boyfriend.
- Dump the big dork, who suddenly expects me to like his friends and his protein shakes while happily washing his undershorts.
- Suffer bizarre mid-life growth spurt, becoming inexplicably leggy and coltish.
- Skip naked down Hollywood Boulevard.
- Ride Tom Cruise’s motorcycle, become mysteriously impregnated, join Scientology, enjoy delightful home sonograms.
- Publicly heckle that crazy bitch Brooke Shields and Matt "You Are Glib" Lauer.
- Screw the manual labor already and return to the geisha way of life.
- Invite many a studly eel to visit the old love cave.
