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.

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.

Shaddup it could happen.

In the meantime, enjoy the pretty.

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?

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)

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.

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…

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?

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.

I’m a wee bit excited. My pre-Effbit grocery list contains the following: booze, tea, & cheese.

It is so on.

And also also, once all these shenanigans have been shanned and I’m alone again (naturally), my new favorite greatest show ever will be picking back up with new episodes airing on BBC2. The Thick Of It begins airing a new series of 8 sometime towards the end of October. Now, I don’t actually get BBC2 but I am confident I can finagle something in the way of viewing this future masterpiece, for I refuse to be separated from my sweary hotscot dreamboat for longer than it takes some enterprising young Brit to rip and post. If I could watch the show live when it airs, I would, just as I would buy the original series and two specials on Region 1 DVD if they in fact PRODUCED SUCH AN ITEM. Ahem. I know it’ll happen eventually, just not fast enough for my liking.

Please please please, let me, let me, let me, let me, get Malcolm Tucker on Region 1. kthxfuckityBYEEEEEEEEE