Not Matt Dillon, but pretty close

So tonight I was strolling around the upper east side, taking in the sights with a few friends from my old Manhattenite crew.

After 10 pm, you know you're passing in front of a bar when you suddenly enter a cloud think with cigarette smoke and post-collegiate frat members, as opposed to the usual skyline smog.

Passing Brother Jimmy's, a local meat shack & bar, I began to peruse the mob of inebriated Bush voters and their blonde, well-endowed escorts for the evening, when I noticed out of the corner of my eye a particularly dashing yet slutty dress. After I followed the dress from hem to neckline, past the hive of blonde, I instinctively moved on to the gentlemen accompanying this fine garment and it's host.

Low and behold, puffing on a cigarette, grabbing at the dress' waistline was not my old friend Matty D. but Christian Slater, a close second.

Starstruck, or at least momentarily intrigued, I continued to gaze at the former celebrity. And only did I stop this gaze when I realized that Mr. Slater was returning my glance, watching me checking out his package.

Hey, I was curious, what can I say.
But instead of averting my eyes as I usually do when I'm caught scanning a man's family jewels, I politely nodded and offered a gentle smile, which was returned with the classic smirk that only a former 90's actor like Christian Slater could have.

So that is my short and generally unnecessary synopsis of my encounter with yet another famous hunk o' man.
And though it lacked the spandex of Matt Dillon, I did get a devilish smile out of the deal.