I love her to death, don’t get me wrong. Any smoking hot redhead who dresses in fuzzy sweaters and sucks on a Virginia Slim without even bothering to light it is bangable material in my book any day. But two things about this chick bother me. One – I keep thinking of that old horror short story about the girl who wore the red ribbon around her neck, and when her husband finally untied it in her sleep, her cackling head rolled around the bedroom like a coked-up Paris Hilton looking for her cellie. And two – as fuckable as she looks here, and she does look fuckable, I still can't shake the uneasy feeling that she might really be Danny Bonaduce in drag.
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