Well why the hell not, I ask you? Sure, he's making time with Neve Campbell, last I heard, but there's a perfectly good explanation for that, which is that he hasn't met me yet, and worse still, doesn't even know who I am. But consider the evidence: he's never married, he's practically the living embodiment of my male ideal, and High Fidelity, Grosse Pointe Blank, Being John Malkovich, and a holy host of other Cusackian classics are terrific flicks. And where, you may wonder, do I fit into this equation? Hell, I'm the Queen of Everything, baby. I don't have to fit the equation, I am the equation. In my nutty, delusional, egomaniacal little world, anyway. And semantics are for sissies.