Somebody's not going to be too happy, but Jeff doesn't care

Jeff Goldblum.
All hail Jeff Goldblum.
Over the week-end, Jeff Goldblum ever so elegantly flicked George Clooney down his "ooh he's so sexy I wanna have his babies" pedestal and erected (no pun) a statue of his own, with his bare hands, probably bare-chested as well, because of the stifling heat right now and aren't we all happy about the weather, eh, Jeff-Goldblum fancying guys and girls?
Just so you know though: HANDS OFF, he's MINE.
The class, the humour, the sexiness of this man. Unbearable, really. How does he cope?
I'm trying very hard not to use any swearwords just now, because that wouldn't be suitable when talking about this fine specimen of mankind that is Jeff Goldblum, but somehow, without them, I feel I'm falling short of conveying exactly the level of elation that befell me when I saw Jeff Goldblum in that episode of Friends.
Yes, for lack of better swearwords I'm using big words, words that I don't necessarily understand or know how to use. Who cares? We're talking Jeff Goldblum here! Jeff Goldblum deserves the whole dictionary.
Of course, he did have that really low point in his career when he did Jurassic Park 2, but it's all forgiven, now, isn't it?
Ooh, and talking of the infamous Lost World, have I ever mentioned that time when I was in translation school, we had that big teacher, biiig teacher, and one day she was roaming the corridors, and all we could hear was the THUMP THUMP THUMP of her steps, and I was talking to a friend, and he looked at me with fear in his eyes and whispered: "Something has survived."
See? Jeff-Goldblum related memories already! This is meant to be.

So, now that I've made sure that I will be #1 on the hit page when he googles his name, how do you reckon I should go about it? Because somehow, saying "I am your number one fan. There is nothing to worry about. You are going to be just fine. I am your number one fan." doesn't sound like such a hot idea.

Oooh, hang on, who's THAT? Bruno Putzulu? Hmmm.