Pete Wentz is now dead to me. It’s not like we ever spoke (except for the voices in my head), but still. Proposing to Ashlee Simpson was the last straw. I guess I should suck it up and say congratulations to the happy couple . . . may your life together be filled with enough eyeliner and flat irons for the two of you to share, tragedy enough for Pete to continue to write depressing lyrics, and enough money so that Ashlee spares us from ever hearing her singing voice again. As for me, as I seek out a new crush, I’m setting my sights higher. Literally. Like on someone who is taller than 5’4″.