the nomness

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.

Sadly, only metaphorically.

And motherFUCK if I wasn’t actually predicting this would happen not three months ago, and when it finally does like two weeks ago I remain completely oblivious. I was probably even home doing something useless like sleeping or some bullshit. Goddammit. But here it is and they’re both beautiful.

And yeah, I know, long time no FUCK YOU we’ve been busy, alright!? Tonight airs the first of the two-part finale of The Thick Of It and I’m already on the edge of my seat (partially because I’m half out the door to work, but the image remains and quite the powerful one it is at that). Not to mention a few episodes of House to catch up on? I’ve been neglecting my nom duties and for that I apologize. But only half-assed, because quite frankly I’ve far too many hot men to catch up on. And when I say catch up on, well…

[Ed. yes i am actually posting this for effbit, because her internet connection and thus her life is truly that shit. i may live in nonsense texas but at least we HAVE cables down here daaayum gina]

I am seriously at a loss as to what to write. I have my hidden obsession that I nearly was outed very publicly when Channel 4 cameras came up and started filming. In a perfectly timed, unchoreographed move, myself and the girls from Twitarded and TwiCrack Addict ducked down to hide our faces in a huddle as the cameras swung towards us. We were an impenetrable bubble of hidden blogger. Beautiful to behold, but fiercely deadly in our snark. They couldn’t even capture our very own Black, Urban Bella, now with more militant angst in the form of @TJBarber – who, incidentally, was thoughtful enough to bring cupcakes and door hangings for us lot! [Ed. um, i totally want a door hanging. as if my neighbors needed another reason to leave me the fuck alone]

I got a bookmark for being in the queue, and Twilight Moms did a great job organising the shindig. There were raffles of LOADS of stuff (none of which I won because I never win anything, trufax) and, just before the screening, they held the auction for Alex’s Lemonade Stand, which Jenny and Snarky from Twitarded raised a shit-ton of money to win. Can you guess who made an appearance? Can ye?

And they auctioned not only the arranged dinner with Peter, but threw in Kellan for a second auction [Kellan's pants optional]. So there we were, three rows back (thanks to the ninja seat-finding skills of sistersnarky and our new twifriends) making eye contact and interacting with Kellan and Peter. Like. Directly. [Ed. like, FIRST NAME directly] [also, i may have to do this with all of effbit's posts. too much fun]

The ladies didn’t win, but we ask you to trend #twitardedlunch on Twitter and @peterfacinelli in the hopes that maybe jennyjerkface and snarkierthanyou get something for their philanthropic efforts. Oh, and the film? I’m posting about it later. Sending this from my iPhone to laymee so that she can post as I still do not have bloody Internet connection in this new apt. FML. Sent from my iPhone

[yes, totally doing this from now on. i don't care if she never gets back online] [except that's a lie]

But I wanted to bring this to you…As a reminder to you all that I am missin some Bill and Eric.

So I’m reducing balsamic for my day job (which is actually a night job) and I’m currently transferring the last 2 eps of House to my PS3 so I can view them as god intended – uncut and commercial free, and on my fucking sweet ass projector. Mr Laurie is a big and tall man and deserves to be displayed as such. Preferably on my bed, but whatever. Beggars, choosers, and whatnot (holler at the Oxford comma). I also have a singularly perfect episode of The Thick Of It to report on, and Malcolm went fucking batshit on Glenn. Holy shit. So yeah, since Effbit’s off effing around with her fancy new digs and the painting and the up-fixing, I’m resigned to keep you bitches entertained with the nomblies. Nommblies? Who the fuck knows, we are missing a standards sheet. What. WHAT.

Btw, the word ‘nibblies’ makes me want to cut something.

This message has been brought to you by the letter F and a smooth vodka cran with an aerated balsamic chaser. Holler?

See, this is why I hate watching television as programs are actually airing. This right here. I know I’m due a write-up on the last episode of House, but quite frankly I don’t even remember when that was. It sure wasn’t last week and it sure as hell isn’t tonight. Ok, ok, so it’s next week. But it makes me crazy. I have one ep to watch from two weeks ago and now I want to make it last. You people and your live broadcast viewing, you are going to be the death of me I swear to god.

In the m[e]antime (and yes, it does appear that moving south has broadened my scope for MASSIVELY LAME PUNS], The Thick Of It is back and not before time. The new series is officially being called Series 3 though I suppose that makes the two Specials the whole of Series 2? Whatever, it’s fucking brilliant, all of it. Everyone’s back so far except crossest-man-in-Scotland Jamie, and this will be quite upsetting to Effbit as he was her favorite. Really, there was no way she was getting anywhere near my Scot so she had to find her own. Fair enough. If I wasn’t already so enamored I’d probably be all over him as well but them’s the breaks pally. New minister is a lady who’s just as conventionally unemployable as all the previous ministers, so par for the course. Somehow it seems that Ollie has become even younger, and HotScot has become even hotter. Also, he used the phrase “lady bollocks” in Saturday’s ep and that’s just the greatest thing ever. I wish I actually lived somewhere in Great Britain so I could drop some of these lines in conversation without sounding like a complete asshole but oh well. A laymee can dream (and she usually dreams of this):

C’mon Effbit – I defy you to find fault with this man right here.

And I’m not alone. There’s a lovely section over at The Guardian featuring reviews and talkback for each episode (among other backstage insidery pieces) and I’m not the only one drooling over Malcolm Tucker. Ok, so I’m one of three, but still. I think I could take them. Actually, I should talk with some of them because I still can’t quite put my finger on what it is about him that rocks the boat, yet doesn’t tip it over. I know Effbit can wax rhapsodic all day long about her pretty manboy and we can go back and forth on Rickman all day long (btw, we *need* to fully explain the ARRF bit one of these days, yeah? i think some fans would appreciate), but when I send her pictures of Capaldi saying “oooh look at the pretteh” and she comes back saying he reminds her of her man’s mother….well, I’m at a loss. Perhaps more disturbingly this is not affecting my lust in any way shape or form, though god help me if I ever actually meet the man’s mother. A-W-K-waaarrrdd. I fear I’ll start swearing at her in my worst Scottish accent and pacing fiercely.

Also, it just occurred to me that I think I’ve referenced ‘other things to talk about’ quite a few times in earlier posts. I suppose it makes sense to actually scan those and then explain them. Trust me, there’s some fucked up shit in there, ARRF chief amongst them. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Btw, Aiming Low, sounded like a fucking blast and I wouldn’t be Laymee if I were actually in attendance with all the other cool kids. But I wasn’t. So I am. Laymee. Thank you. I still vote that you Effbit, JJ, & STY fucking kidnap Jordan for some fun time west of the river. Mayhaps the ‘Boke?

Dear Diary

I fucking love Halloween.  It may be my favourite holiday.  So WHY is it that I’m so painfully behind in my Halloween planning this year? (Read: haven’t started it)

In keeping with the Halloween spirit, I am working to the background home-office screening of Tim Burton’s Sweeney Todd.  This may or may not have anything to do with one Mr. Rickman’s rendition of Pretty Women. Also, it’s just gorgeous to look at.  (As is he.  Mr. Rickman, that is.  Who, shamefully, didn’t make it to the afterparty for the film’s NYC premiere.  For shame, I say.  I was disappointed.)

Ah, Tim Burton.  Thank you!  I am so ready for this film.

This is the second Alice in Wonderland trailer I’m posting.  Yes, obviously, there are my lovelies in this film (thank you, Mr. Burton, for being dependably generous in bringing together my favourites).  Roll on, 5 March, 2010.

Speaking of premieres and screenings, I have procured a ticket to the NYC screening of New Moon.  I get it.  I’m a 30+ yr old dork in expensive shoes who squee’s and gets a little gay about sparkly, emo vampires who play piano.  The slagging I get IRL is cruel.  I tried to keep it in my pants for as long as humanly possible, but then, my gays were getting a hard time about reading the books, and me, Captain Rescuepants, had to step in and out myself.  So, I deal with the eyerolls of my ENTIRE local bar when the New Moon trailer is shown on TV as I go ninja fighter to get the remote from the bartender to turn up the volume.  I’ve accepted the scoffing and am ultimately ok with the situation.

So there was absolutely NO hesitancy at all in jumping to the online ticketing site a snarky little bird directed me to.  GOD BLESS YOU, Mr. TWITTERMAN.  Fuck all the haters, Twitter is my lifeline these days.  Both for work and, well, obsessing about nearly teenage man boys.  I will be in attendance with the ever lovely, just as clever in the flesh, original denizens of Twitardia.  I’ve pimped their site hard in the past, and am very happy to do so again today, as last night I had the distinct pleasure of spending the evening knocking back a couple few cocktails and housing the hors d’oeuvres at the Aiming Low event here in NYC.  It was a good time, and honestly brilliant to meet fellow lady bloggers.  Did you know that chick bloggers dig hot guys?  Who knew!?

Before you ask, yes, Jenny Jerkface is afuckingdorable. Honestly, sweet dress and shrug number, hot tights, and a redhead.  And SnarkierThanYou is tall and honestly gorgeous.  And nevermind they’re from NJ. They can do Manhattan just fine, unlike others (college roommate from sophomore year, I am looking at you.  I am looking at you and trying desperately not to vomit in my mouth, but I am looking at you).  I think it’s been determined that  we are going to have to do this again.  Possibly semi-regularly.  It is shocking how much we have in common.

There's this...

and….

then there's this...

and obviously this…

Pfffft, yeah, sure, it's Kristen Stewart who wants it, right? Whatever.