If a normal, red-blooded American male had a dream about superstar Hollywood sex symbol Angelina Jolie, what would you expect the outcome to be? I’m sure your imagination is far more lascivious than my dream last night.

No, I toiled over some image retouching with the exotic movie star. As many men have, I have entertained the odd dream or two about the former Mrs. Thornton. As a committed man, these things are limited to my id’s dirty little sub-mind, Ms. Jolie’s attraction to knives during foreplay notwithstanding. It’s harmless subconscious fantasy, but instead of portraying a horny stewardess or something, she is instead performing banal duties in a menial work environment.

Me: Angelina Jolie, would you make out with me?

Angelina Jolie: In your dreams, pal.

Me: No! In my dreams, you’re a photo intern at a crummy small town newspaper. What say we balance the equation, baby?