Back in the day (like, two years ago), Colin Farrell was known to be quite the cocksman. With his rakish grin, artfully carved 5 o'clock shadow, and Irish brogue, he roamed the Hollywood landscape, clubbing nubile young starlets like Lindsay Lohan over the head with his giant ding dong and dragging them back to his shamrock-bedecked lair for some Guinness, steak and kidney pie, and videotaped sex. In recent times, however, Colin's considerable Lucky Charms have worn off, leaving him with a dry wiener and a lack of meaty roles. Though it sounds like he's getting back into the swing of things–rumor has it that he hit on Mary-Kate Olsen mercilessly during Sundance. A source told the New York Daily News:
"Colin was clearly taken with Mary-Kate and snuggled up to her on the couch at the bar. I'm not sure if the feelings were mutual, though!"
Well, of course not. Mary-Kate is used to a much classier brand of man. Like Stamos Nachos. And Gandhi. And the 6-foot humanoid we constructed by taking empty Starbucks cups and Marlboro unfiltered butts and gluing them together with Brandon Davis's hair grease. Man, MK fell pretty hard for that one. "I've never connected on such a spiritual level before," she whispered as she kissed his latte lid lips, his nose flaking half-charred nicotine ash onto her quaking bird hands.
