Dear Mark Ruffalo: Sorry For Keeping You Captive In My Basement

Dear Mark Ruffalo,

You don’t know me, but we are destined to be together.

Oh, is that a weird way to start a letter? Whatever.

I know it to be true. A psychic told me (okay, yes, admittedly, I threatened the psychic until she would give me the results I desired, but, still counts!)

You give my stomach butterflies. I want to write love songs about you. If loving you was an Olympic sport, I would win the gold and then punch the silver and bronze medal winners until they gave me their medals. And then I would have all the medals for loving you. And those medals would be our love medals and I would pretend they were my children and dress them up and give them names like Natalie and Brian and Sarah. We would be a family.

Anyways, Mark, now I’m going to show you pictures of yourself, and you’re going to look at them because you want to and not because you’re bound and gagged in my basement dungeon like Sheridan from the 90s soap-opera Passions or any of Buffalo Bill’s chunky girls in Silence of the Lambs. Don’t struggle against the shackles. It’ll just leave a mark around your wrists. Ask Anderson Cooper. He can attest to that.

Here you are making a silly face. I really like this picture because I imagine this is the face you make in awkward social situations. Like when we’re visiting my grandparents and Grandma’s drunk and she’s got her wig off and Grandpa is talking about Vietnam and that beautiful Vietnamese prostitute he got the clap from. And even though they’re my family and I love them, I’m super embarrassed but then I look across the room and you’re making this face and I laugh.

HULK SMASH MY VAG

This is a picture of you from the movie The Kids Are All Right. I really liked that movie because you had a lot of sex scenes with Julianne Moore, who also has red hair, and it made me happy that you would have intercourse with a ginger. Some people won’t. They act like red hair is contagious or something. But not you, Mark. You were banging Julianne Moore every which way in that movie! And even though the thought of you with another women makes me want to set myself on fire, I appreciated that you boned her. It’s like you were sending me a signal, like “Hey, you! You’re watching this movie and you have red hair and I’m giving the business to a red head right now! This will be you one day!”

This is a tough one for me. On the one hand, it’s you dancing in your underwear. How could anything be better than that? On the other hand, FUCK YOU KIRSTEN DUNST. STAY AWAY FROM MY MAN, YA HEAR?

Even though you are a Serious Actor, sometimes you still gotta show people which way to the gun show. And that’s cool. I don’t even mind, because I know that one day those guns will be all mine and I’ll say things like “You have the right to bear arms!” and then I’ll demand you take off your shirt and then I’ll just stare at you until I realize I’m drooling all over myself.

This is what dreams are made of.

Can’t wait to find out if it’s really that big. 13 going on 30, am I right? LOL

That was fun, right? It was like our first family photo album! The first of many, I promise.

You’re giving me this look like you want out of the basement pit, but I’m afraid I can’t do that, Mark. When I said I loved you, I meant forever. Not “I love you for the next few weeks as I follow you without your knowledge” or “I love you until the cops find the location of my home and rescue you from the pit, taking me down in a blaze of gunfire.” I meant FOREVER.

And forever it will be.

Now rub the lotion on your skin. All over, or else you’ll get the hose again. It’s so much easier if you just cooperate.

Good boy.

Ta-ta, Markie!

All my love,

your future wife.

  • Lucy

    This is bloody amazing. Can I know you? Twitter @lucyalicephotog

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