the nomness

Whoa, remember when my plan was to review/post/cap the new episodes of The Thick Of It in a somewhat timely fashion? Yeah, well…fuck off, shit got real for a minute. And it’s not like I haven’t been watching, and listening, and dreaming… Let’s put it down to a visual distraction from actual thought and leave it at that. Now, onto the issue of the day – episode two of the (no longer quite as) new series of TTOI. Le sigh. I love having/creating an excuse to rewatch this intensely.

So. The premise of Ep 2 is a data loss incident/kerfuffle/media strategy within DoSAC, further underscoring the department’s complete ineptitude at being able to handle even the slightest bit of responsibility. If this weren’t enough, Nicola manages to break the story herself to the press following a Guardian meetup intended to introduce “the real Nicola.” Well, they met her alright. Upon finding out what she’s done Malcolm rages against Nicola and his own seatbelt almost equally, giving me some quite serious bondage brain fodder. And then……eh, fuckit, now I just wanna look at the pretteh.

And no, that’s not a riff on vamp-friendly stadium rockers. Because those guys totally rock, especially now that the lead guy has realized he will never be Thom Yorke. No, this time I am damning the muse, the spark that makes fanvids far more fascinating to make than watch (for me anyway) (except for some of them); the little glitch in the brain that’s all, HEYFREAKYOUNEEDTOMAKETHISCUZITWOULDKICKREALDICK, and I’m all, whoa simmer, before I do in fact make it and it does in fact kick dick for real (for me anyway); the wick I can’t seem to fucking light these days. That’s what I get for quitting smoking. How DID Stella get her groove back? Did anyone watch that shit, and can you tell me how it ended? Or even better, I’ll take requests. Anything. That horse is getting bigger and bigger and I am not known for my jumping.

Also, this:

Fuckity real life can suck a dick, dude, for real.

Woke up this morning as per usual, with the cat purring on my head and kneading WAKEUPWAKEUP into my scalp. As per unusual I threw her off the bed (and damn near pulled my shoulder) because she’d taken me from a dreamy dream involving my hotscot. Nothing was happening in this dream. Yet. YET, cat, y’hear me? If momma’s a’dreamin, don’t come a’meanin to wake me up WAY TOO GODDAMN EARLY. Jesus Christ, cat. The scene was set. I can only assume that at some point there would’ve been fewer articles of clothing and actual speaking (perhaps not in that order) because I have seen it in movies. Goddamn cat.

So now I must offer tribute to the legions of nom fans (and I mean LEGIONS), in a doubtless poor attempt to make up for our inexcusable silence. I will NOT be offering tribute in the form of any sort of undead vamper; a lady knows when she has met her match and Effbit would have my canines for even attempting to match her skills. But I do have offerings nonetheless.

Ok, I’m not looking at the dog. Seriously, is ANYONE looking at the fucking dog? Does he need to sell himself to 11-year-old’s? What the fuck. More to the point, why am I angry at him for looking so fucking adorable? Because he can also look like this and I want THIS.

Ahem. That is all.

And for the sexiest whatthefuck looks on the planet, we must of course bow down before the master. Any time, any place. Seriously. AR. Just call us. Even both of us. We’ll get freaky witcha. But to be perfectly honest, I should get first dibs because at least I’ve SEEN The Barchester Chronicles. Seriously, Eff, wot teh eff?

Now is the time on Nomness when we dance, for there are brand spanking new crushes of which to speak! Gather the kids around, go ahead and give Grandma that third gin, and check out my two finds from the land of the BBC. For I crush Brits hard (oh, would that I were only given the opportunity). The first one’s a total cheat because it was really just this one scene that gave me the naughty thoughtys, but he was my favorite Boosh even before I started checking out his back catalog (*gunfingers*) so this was just a bonus. I give you…Julian Barratt.

And now, the most obvious man I should’ve offered to this site from Day 1. I can only plead ignorance, even though Eff & I once worked with a guy who’s the spit of him and she TOLD me this at the time but c’mon now, really, who listens to Eff half the time, am I right or am I right? Totally right. So I didn’t know. And then I came upon Mr. Capaldi (*gunfingers*), and in doing the waaaay too deep Netflixing of his professional soul, realized I would need to watch Dr. Who. From the beginning. Because I am more than just a lady who appreciates a fine britarse. Not much more, but just enough to also appreciate seeing a series from the very beginning, and I am NOT entering into the argument of “this show’s been on for nearly 40 years, how’d you start at the beginning,” because anyone who knows enough to bring that point knows exactly who I’m talking about and should really just shut their nerd mouth right now before things start to get real. I give you…(but I wouldn’t)…Mr. David Tennant.

Whew. For. Real. Unfortunately I’m now done with the Tenth Doctor episodes. Fortunately I have moved on to Torchwood and, ultimately, my lovely hotscot. Unfortunately I will miss David Tennant. Fortunately Netflix understands this about me, and is more than willing to enable.

Thank you, Netflix, for understanding.

So I had this epic plan for the night. Things are slow at work and I just discovered how to take screenshots from my iPhone, something I’m sure everyone already knew how to do. Even my business partner, and he is FAR from savvy. Luckily I got to school Eff on how to do it. Who’s still got the skills?….>this< nerd.

Only problem is...>this< nerd hasn’t had time to update her damn iPhone OS in order to update the damn Wordpress in the hopes of being able to post pics remotely and properly with repaired code and the damn whatnot. So I’m sitting on a fair amount of properly cropped hawtness with no way to share. Until I get home. But that’s no bueno because the second I get home I’m either sleeping or doing something else that should immediately result in sleep because work is slow tonight and all I have is pretty pictures to mark the hours. And there’s hours to go before I sleep.

But rest assured (and surely better than me), I WILL sort the tech issues because I’m sure there WILL be further slowish nights, unless this other thing happens. But even then the nom will be needed to while away the while.

And you’ll just have to wait to see the sweetest, most lickable throat ever produced by Scotland.

Seriously. It needs to be asked, and contemplated, debated, and then talked about again. Do they not understand that fanvids are actually NOT detrimental to their bank account? Ugh. This has only inspired me to get back behind the editing suite to update our YouTube page with something so fantabulous that WMG’s all WTF. And stuff.

Shaddup it could happen.

In the meantime, enjoy the pretty.

The fine ladies from Ravelry. UU. Love you.

*ALSO* I had to add this – Thanks, Megi

Dude. It’s been a rough coupla months. And between Laymee giving me the “Umm, loser, FUCKITY POST” kicks in the ass and my cat making sweet cat love to my blanket covered feet (you know, biscuit style) on the couch I figured that it’s time to take pen to paper, or in this case desperately-in-need-of-a-manicure-fingernails to keyboard, and jot down some notes.

1) Kellan Lutz?

Why do you ever wear clothes? I just can't fathom one reason.

What this man has done to his body is art.  ART.  I applaud you, Mr. Lutz.  All underpantskind applauds you. I will forgive the fact that it looks like the waistband says “Twinkle.”  When you look like that you may twinkle all you like.

2) Alexander Skarsgard

I have never seen a person's left hand as being as superfluous as this man's.

This man, he’s lovely.  So very lovely.  I mean, I think I like him better with the shorter hair

I don't mind this being shot from below -and normally it irritates the shit outta me. I suppose it's the subject?

3) I’m getting sucked into Lost.  I mean, I’ve really held out.  It’s the last bloody season.  Sans cable, I’m working through Hulu, and am going through Season 1.  It’s not bad – I mean, it’s been hyped to shit, but I’ve gotta say, I look forward to watching them in the evenings.  Now, I wanna see some more conflict, maybe, but I’m sure we’re getting there… Apparently I have 101 episodes to work my way through.

Season 2 mayhaps?

Still not so sure about this whole “Season 3″ distinction but whatever. We could call it Season 8 B.C. and I’d still be up nights thinking about it. Well, him. Heh, and it. Surely it’s not that wrong to be so attracted to a filthy mouthed Scot? Sure feels good.

So with episode 1 we have a cabinet reshuffle, the main point of which is to formally replace the previous DoSAC MP. Whatever, I give two shits about the politics, you know why I’m there. The maniacal charm of Malcolm Tucker is adjusted only slightly in the face of a female minister but it’s fun seeing him kinda flirty and then go STRAIGHT into bollock mode. There’s certainly no will they/won’t they thing going on but at least this new chick can hold her own with him and he definitely wasn’t expecting that. Not many other changes except for Glenn who seems somewhat redesigned and more well put together (and wholly invisible to me whenever Tucker’s in the building).

Also, since last we spoke I’ve been fangirling Capaldi’s entire body of work (and yes, BODY of work is appropriate). I sat through this one absolutely shit horror movie to get to the last six minutes which were outrageously well-acted on his part. The fact that his entire backside was on-screen shimmying into a pair of boxers has nothing whatsoever to do with my appreciation of those final minutes I’m sure. Nor the fact of his chest being roused from post-coital rest by the call of one of his charges crying, “Father Steve!” Little bit of Catholic naughtiness with the farm lady. No, I think it was actually the emotions flitting about his face while sitting at the kitchen table, trying to make sense of the previous night. Like, really. He may be my latest pretty obsessive but damn the man can also act.

(ok it might’ve been the shimmy)

So I’m sitting here at work, very very late work, and I get to wondering where I last left off with episode reviews of The Thick Of It. Because some serious bullshit done went down and I didn’t recall sharing it with our many readers (yes, all 12 of you). And by god, upon checking previous posts I find that I HAVE NOT POSTED A SINGLE MOTHERFUCKING TTOI EP REVIEW. How is this possible? Seriously, the extent to which this show has infiltrated my life is almost frightening, and yet I haven’t nitpicked every last Tucker moment to death in this one forum I have for just such a braingasm? For shame.

I’m half hoping my iPhone app is slow to load all previous posts, but I’m more than half hoping that I have a more valid excuse to rewatch this past season than…umm…oh, who the fuck are we kidding, I’ll watch Tucker with no provocation or excuse necessary. I crossed the techiefangirl line months ago when I ripped the audio from every ep to listen to in the car. The man is teh sex even when I can’t see him.

A quick holidayless post to formally declare my intentions of snagging Tim Robbins. Any and all suggestions most welcome, as are photos of twinkly-eyed men with dimples. You know who you are.