dear tilda swinton

This is kind of like modern art to me...or pate de foie gras...or bleu cheese...or caviar. I want to like it, really I do, but while everyone else in the room is oooing and aahhhhing or making yummy noshing noises, I'm the one in the corner thinking, "How is a ball of yarn in the middle of the floor art?" or "This tastes like goose poop on a cracker" or "I think this is moldy" or "Wow this is awful. It tastes like Fish-flavored PopRocks". I don't really think of myself as an uncultured neanderthal, but maybe I am. Is it tacky that I prefer Milkduds over Beluga caviar? I suppose so...heavy sigh...

So, I came across this photo layout of Tilda Swinton in the 2011 August issue of "W". I know, I know...everyone thinks she's a genius and a fashion icon, but shazam, I just don't get it. So, to display my complete and utter uncouthness, I decided to put captions under the pictures...because, well...I just can't seem to help myself. May the farce be with you, Miss Bea

Suffering from a recurring nightmare, Tilda couldn't understand why she kept
dreaming about being eaten alive by a Venus Flytrap.

Screwing her head on straight proved to Tilda
to be a little more challenging than she thought.

In the event that her modeling and acting career bombed,
Tilda kept honing her skills as a major league baseball umpire.

Tilda realized a little too late that 'using your head when kneading dough'
was not actually a literal term.

Having completed her first lesson at Mr. Chen's Karate, Tang and Sushi Bar,
Tilda set out to rid the world of nuclear energy...one Karate chop at a time.