Since nothing seems to get this joint hopping like talk of food and sex, I thought I’d try to combine the two. Tell your fellow Buttercuppers what your last meal would be if you were on Death Row and facing execution in the morning. And one more thing? Tell us who you’d order up for one last roll in the hay, celebrity or otherwise.

Here are my picks:

Grilled T-bone steak, garlic mashed potatoes, Ontario field tomatoes in season. Dessert: a huge hunk of home-made peach pie, still warm from the oven.

Carnal pleasure: I’d take a little Mark Ruffalo, please. Because I interviewed him once, six months after my marriage broke up, and my long-dead libido came rushing back to life to the point that I wanted to leap over the interview table and mount him as we flirted madly and he told me I looked like Michelle Pfeiffer and I knew, I just KNEW, that the guy would be hot in the sack. And, oh yeah, he reminds me very much of the best boyfriend I ever had. Sleepy eyes, sexy bedroom voice, smart, giggly, funny, clearly adores women — YES PLEASE, Mr. Executioner!

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