Armani is not asking (much less paying) Dirtbunny to pose in her underwear, or fully clothed either for that matter.
There is nothing on the interwebs devoted to Dirtbunny other than stuff Dirtbunny created herself.
No one looks at a sweaty Dirtbunny and thinks, "I must lick that."
Dirtbunny's eyes change color. Alex's eyes are brown. They're nice, but they don't change color.
Dirtbunny sucks at free kicks.
Alex sucks at Bluebooking.
Dirtbunny went to college.
Dirtbunny can't speak Italian.
Dirtbunny knows that golf is retarded. Alex has yet to be enlightened.
Alex almost certainly has a seriously cool sports car. Dirtbunny has a seriously jacked-up Volvo station wagon.
Fabio Cannavaro has not issued statements gushing about how wonderful Dirtbunny is (although I'm sure he would if he had met her).
Dirtbunny looks powerful and tough in short skirts with tights and boots. Alex looks effeminate and silly dressed that way.
There is no video compilation of Dirtbunny's best legal memos on You Tube.
Dirtbunny is a much better pastry chef than Alex. Much better.
No replays of Dirtbunny's last successful biscotti on the Jumbotron.
Dirtbunny's boobs are bigger.
Alex's sideburns are bigger.
Dirtbunny's feet are freakishly large. Alex's feet are freakishly tiny.
Alex=rich. Dirtbunny=not.
No one asks Alex for help interpreting the Hatch Act, and if they did, he would suck at it.
Alex probably never rode in an elevator with Ted Kennedy. (I know! Don't you wish you were me?)
Kirby is afraid of Alex and does not love him beyond all else in this world.
Dirtbunny can continue at the peak of her professional prowess well beyond the age of 40, if she wants to.
Dirtbunny never, ever, ever has to pretend that she doesn't think Marco Materazzi is a huge, enormous douchebag.
Paparazzi don't hang out on the street in front of Dirtbunny's house.
When Alex is at work and needs to blow his nose, he just horks it out wherever. Dirtbunny uses a tissue.
Alex probably neither squeals with joy nor does a little dance when he gets new yarn in the mail.
Dirtbunny doesn't get to wear shorts to work when it's warm. Dirtbunny doesn't have to wear shorts to work when it's cold.
No one has ever done a Google search for naked pictures of Dirtbunny. (If you do one now and actually find something, please let me know.)
Dirtbunny knows how to fold a fitted sheet. Alex probably doesn't.
Alex doesn't make his own socks or his own bread.
Alex is not an expert, unrecognized or otherwise, in the Whistleblower Protection Act of 1989.
A black tuxedo jacket sets off Alex's stubble nicely. A black alpaca sweater sets off Bunny's blonde highlights and rosy lip gloss nicely.
Dirtbunny has no tattoos. That you know of.
Shin guards and funny-looking knee socks are not part of the required dress code at the Teeny Tiny Government Entity.
Dirtbunny has no groupies. Except one, and he's not really a groupie and we all suspect that it's secretly her father and not someone who actually goes to fixtures at the Riverside.
Dirtbunny can make hollandaise without a recipe. Also, she can make Chinese dumplings, shrimp wontons, and chocolate truffles.
Alex can run up and down the length of the pitch for 90 minutes without falling down, puking, or dying of a heart attack.
Dirtbunny can knit in the dark or with her eyes closed.
Dirtbunny can go on vacation whenever she wants.
Alex doesn't have to take annual mandatory training on computer security, sexual harassment, or the No Fear Act.
Alex gets to go to wonderful and exotic places all over the world. Dirtbunny gets to go to a mandatory legal conference in Indianapolis.
Post-it notes are not terribly useful in Alex's line of work.
Alex won the World Cup in 2006. Dirtbunny won the Chairman's Award for Excellence in 1994.
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