Hey Jakey,

I always seem to be so verbose when I actually do write you one of these silly little letters. It's easy to write a thousand words-plus in a short amount of time. I'm hoping I can get into that mindset while I'm here, and scribble out a column for this week's Action. Excuse me while I go off on a tangent that's hardly Jakey-related...

When you have a new baby, time for yourself becomes a precious commodity. Don't get me wrong, I'm there, in the moment, savoring every dirty diaper and high-pitched squeal for attention. We shall never pass this way again, they grow up so quick. Yeah, yeah, yeah.

But when Brad Pitt calls, a girl's gotta answer.

Daddy was home—excuse me, my husband--was home (I forget who I'm talking to sometimes...) Saturday afternoon, in a surprisingly good mood, considering that the Giants were losing to the Rockies. He took the baby from me and said, "Go. Go do something just for mommy." Dear God. That's how we talk nowadays.

I did the obligatory hemming and hawing, then bolted out the door. There was a showing of Troy in less than an hour, and if I timed it right, I could stop and grab my own snacks and shove them in my purse for discreet munching.

Now, I've always thought that poor Brad Pitt was a bit on the slim side, uninteresting looking, and just not movie star material. This is the movie that changes all that. With a shaggy, tossable 'do, clothed in either shorty armor or a fetching poolside wrap, his pouty lips perfectly offset the hard work he obviously put in with his personal trainer.

There's a story somewhere in this movie. From what I recall from Rocky and Bullwinkle's Fractured Fairy Tales and my Cliff Notes, there was a face that launched a few ships, a horse that wasn't an ordinary horse, of course, and a Greek god that was weak in the heels.

This wasn't that story. This was about Greek guys and gals engaged in an epic attempt to out-sexy each other in the mere two hours and 42 minutes alloted to it. Neither army could be labeled as particularly good or evil, so it's up to the viewer to pick a side based on terribly good looks alone, then to struggle with her choice as each army continues to offer up sexier and sexier soldiers. This is participatory film-viewing at its finest.

Hot, young stars of today, like Orlando Bloom and Sean Bean of Lord of the Rings fame and Eric Bana of the unfortunate Hulk movie, rub elbows with hot, old stars of yesteryear, including Nigel Terry of Excalibur fame, Shakespearean standby John Shrapnel and Peter O'Toole, just an all-around famous guy.

There should've been more dancing and bloodless knife-fights, ala Michael Jackson's Beat It video, but the violence was tasteful and necessary. I get it, war is hell; you don't have to spurt me with blood and gore, as in Mr. Spielberg's Saving Private Ryan, that war-pic that introduced Vin Diesel to the world.

But this was Brad's movie, from beginning to end. His high-flying fighting style and slo-mo, behind-his-back sword thrusts, his kicky little skirt of armor and his well-muscled thighs kept the plot rolling smartly along. The mish-mash of vaguely Euro accents, mumbled by Brits and Americans alike, in no way slowed the movie down. Who cares about who said what, when we're worried about Saffron Burrow's new anorexic look, and wondering to ourselves if Helen's face really was something to write home about.

The only thing missing was a Jennifer Aniston cameo. Since she's the only one standing between me and Brad's eternal happiness together, I figure she should have played some sort of horrid slave girl, doomed to a life of sunscreen-less days on the shores of the Aegean, washing the feet of the ickier soldiers.

I left the theater, shielding my eyes from the sun the way I first shielded my eyes when Brad made his first bare-naked appearance in Troy's Greek sands. For a moment, mine was the face that launched those hordes into a bloody war. Mine was the arrow that pierced the enemy's armor.

Sigh... mine is the key that starts up my truck and mine is the baby that's glad to see me come home from the Trojan Wars.