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Ladies! Today you face your greatest challenge yet! You must ask yourself this: do I still find Paul Rudd with long devilsticks hair, a lumberjack beard, and some stupid-ass knee shorts kicking children in the face and talking like an Owen Wilson book-on-tape to be THE DREAMIEST?! Or does the power of his performance-against-type actually counteract my ovaries (the walls of which are covered with Paul Rudd posters) on a chemical level? I can't tell you how to answer this important and challenging question, but I can tell you this: THERE IS A RIGHT ANSWER AND A WRONG ANSWER. Good luck to you, ladies. See you on the other side.
