I have to admit, though, there were, in those moments some tinglage, and yet, not one dream about her. No, I get George instead. True, she and George are good buds, but then George is good buds with a lot of people.

Which now includes me. On some psychic/spiritual plane I've made George's "A" list, and still the question remains: why?

True, in this entire time that we've known one another in the spirit world, I've never asked him to look at one of my scripts - even though I've got two projects I think he'd jump at were he to read them.

Yet when G comes drifting through the ether, my self-interest gets shoved aside. To hell with my career! Adios aspirations! All will have to take a back seat when this hardworking man who, despite being well into his forties, can show twerps like John Krasinski what cool is all about.

It's just dawned on me why George keeps showing up in the great beyond back lot: I'm the only one left of all his friends that isn't married! I mean I've been divorced for - hell, years now. Brad, Matt, and Don, though - they all have the stink of Desitin on their hands! I'm the only one Clooney can hang with who isn't gonna get an earful if I make a collect call from the Milan Prigione della Città!

So it's settled. I'm utterly dependent on George Clooney for some kind of life - and at that, a second rate tag-along-on-the-astral-plane kind. Wow.

But hey! I'm not gay on Clooney! There's that!

PS. Happy birthday George (next Sunday).
PPS. I've given AARP your P.O. box.