I'm Chuck Bass.

Trademark or no trademark, give me that guitar necklace.

Oh what it must be like to encompass charm, wit, and wealth. I believe he's the next Richard Gere. When I make bold statements such as this, I'm right. Why? Who else can talk suavely with their eyes other than these two? Although I don't follow the storyline of Gossip Girl on and off camera (because I do have a life), I am still entitled to my opinionated comments: Blair, you just aren't good enough. Kind of like my take on Russell Brand and Katy Perry. She's just too much of a troubled soul for Brand's hot mess self- if that's even possible.

I may tune in to this television saga from time to time just to catch a glimpse of one epic suit after another. A tad bit alarming that such a creature can dress better than the huge percentage of female "fashionistas." As seasons progress, he subtly transforms into a new breed of hotness. Call it unfair, but at least our standards are, again, reinforced. His sneer is more wicked than an underaged sorority girl's beaming face as she gets turned down by a bouncer at the local dive bar. Like always, I wish I was kidding.

I wouldn't be too upset to run into Chuck at Trader Joes, reaching past him to swipe an avacado or perhaps brush by him in Union Square, making my way to Gabe Saporta's. Either way, your Ray Ban wearing self must submerge within the Manhattan scene, just to get a quiet cackle of pleasure out of me.