I asked him
To say what had happened
How it all began
I asked again
He never said a word
As if he hadn’t heard

And next the room was full
Of wild and angry men
They seemed to hate this man
They fell on him and then disappeared

Then I saw thousands of millions
Crying for this man
And then I heard them mentioning my name
And leaving me the blame

Hmm. Ok, so I was planning to launch the visual tribute to Mr Moran and his hair and dimples and voice and hair but apparently it’s all on my other machine? Which is the lamest AND nerdiest thing I could possibly attribute to myself, at least at this moment. Fuck. Ok, so….rest assured, there will be adorableness forthcoming (hopefully to NYC next year on the Yeah Yeah tour) (fucker better be coming to visit, Effbit SWEARS he always plays NY when on tour). Also, I’m torn between hoping that The Ladykillers makes it to Broadway with THE ORIGINAL CAST (Professor Marcus FUCKING TUCKER) and absolutely gagging for another season of The Thick Of It. I suppose it’s all a win-win.

Also Also? Seeing Rickman in 13 days. Second row, still in previews. BITCHES BE JEALOUS.

And at this point I must OF COURSE reference the HP7p2. Because our professor is the fucking star. He’s finally revealed as the end-all be-all of the entire goddamn series. And I know the super fans have seen the Empire ad where Mr Rickman makes one of the very few references to playing a fictional wizard that he’s ever made over the course of the past 10 years. And it’s shattering, because of course now we all know what JKR told him, what she gave him as the one simple key to his character that NO ONE ELSE KNEW ABOUT. And this is why we love the Rickman. And fucking does, and unrequited love and FUCK YOU TWILIGHT.

So, yeah. There’s this other professor. And he’s from the motherland, and he’s older, and intelligent and #foxytome and shit is SO ON.

That is all.

So this is a challenge because I can’t post any pics nor give any actual kind of information, but Effbit FULLY SUPPORTS this cause. Mr. Effbit FULLY SUPPORTS this cause (and I’m hoping it’s not just because he talks funny like them). Young Effbit the Lanky and Peanut FULLY SUPPORT this cause even though neither of them really knows what they’re supporting, and one can barely support his own damn self (i.e., CHEAP DATE). Now, obviously they support the cause because a) it’s been a non-fucking MINUTE and b) i’m running out of British programming over which to obsess and said obsessions detract from any possible fucking minutes and I’d rather prefer my plan to cover unlimited minutes and OHMYGOD HE LIKES MY FB STATUS. See, this is what I’m relegated to. Fuck. This. Life. That. Is. Mine.

Make no mistake, there has been no real communication. I mean, there has to an extent. He knows I exist, so point to me. We have mutual friends (point me). I’ve been to his house (point me, but it was a group poker night thingy and I was drinking for the first time in a little bit and it was raining and at this point I’m hoping I did one of those sexy rain unleashings when the hot chick arrives at said fella’s house and he’s all BAM but I’m sure it was more like a lot of dripping on his kitchen floor and a light spray when I had to shake my hair dry) (i.e. NOT HOT). So…yeah. That should bring you up to date.

And then he showed up at work today, completely unannounced and on his own. A brief note about work. I used to do a thing in Texas. I’m now doing a somewhat similar thing back home, but it’s not my own thing and it’s only for the summer so it’s PERFECT. And Fella walks in (***effbit, I need a name because certain casual male pronouns will obviously not work), sits out back and does his thing, says hey as he goes back and forth (I’m not saying where we were but he may have returned with another beer) (just sayin’…I have a very specific skill set) (TWSS). So all I’m doing is texting Effbit and angling myself so I can still work but maybe occasionally catch a look at legs in shorts, and I’m sure at this point I’m creeping out all flavors of Effbit but whatever – I’m a fan of Peanut and yet I’m aware of certain biological facts regarding a most unholy union, so yeah payback’s a bitch. Then Effbit shows up with Lanky & Peanut in tow. Lanky & I have a very detailed conversation regarding tomorrow’s epic game of Star Wars Monopoly, and Peanut gets the prime view of Fella. Now, I was honestly invested in the Lanky convo so I will have to assume Peanut was making my case for me. Hmm…we shall see. Perhaps it shall all hinge on SW Monopoly. As it is now I should rest up for the battle because I’m finally on the tail end of a two week spell working two jobs. One hopes men are impressed by multi-dork-tasking.

Also, sidenote. I knew a guy in high school who looked like Paul Newman – fucking chiseled jaw, crisp short hair, ice eyes, casual, self-demeaning manner. And now is the time on Nomness when we define a few of those words. By “knew,” I mean we shared the same seat in consecutive art classes and I thought about carving notes to him in the desk. By “casual, self-demeaning manner,” I mean I don’t think he ever consciously acknowledged the fact that someone might’ve been thinking about him for an inordinate amount of time. Le sigh….goddamn he was pretty…

Second thing…I’m seriously mainlining Dylan Moran. Yes, it’s happening, the Dread Pirate Effbit has wished an Irishman on me and, lo, an Irishman has appeared to fill the void and give me hope that I may actually be attracted to a man born the same decade as myself. Shocking I know. It has happened in the past (IN REAL LIFE), but here’s hoping all future ones are actually available.

I think I’ll start with Paul Higgins’ belly, because that’s the kind of site we’re running here and I have absolutely no problem with that. I totally saw it when he was quickly changing just offstage and it was adorable. And to confirm (like, just to me), he is about 5’10 – his height was referenced in an episode of The Thick Of It but I’m here to say it’s accurate. BECAUSEIWASTHISCLOSETOHIM. And godDAMN but he’s a skinny man. Like David Tennant skinny. I might have to PS his head onto that one nekkid Tennant pic I found a while back because, again, that’s the kind of site we’re running here and I’m perfectly ok with that. I don’t think I’ve ever fancied a skinny man before. Not sure what to make of that.

Ok, so the play itself. Outstanding, truly. The staging is such that, were you to imagine a junior high basketball game with bleacher seating either side, the play is staged on the court. It enhances the immediacy of the content but, again, given the nature of this site, I would choose to use the word intimate. It was an intimate stage and I snagged a seat in the front row. I had to move my legs when the boys marched by too closely. I had visions of tripping one of them and dragging him away, but they are all quite fit and would’ve taken me down in seconds.

Fuck, talk about a missed opportunity…

Paul Higgins (for I can only use his full name) (and really I only ever refer to him as Jamie but I’m making a halfass go at being semi-professional here) plays two roles – the Sergeant of the squad, and the writer who’s working on a piece about the entire squad after the play’s events take place. Time jumps back and forth quite seamlessly and it was during one of these jumps that the glorious belly was revealed, likely only to me because I could NOT take my eyes off the man. It was like Rickman in Borkman only knowing I wouldn’t have to fight Effbit for a go. There was an entire platoon of 8 young fit men at one end of the court as it were, and I was just staring in the other direction watching a thin man in a t-shirt & sweater vest take notes and make interested faces.

His hair kept getting mussed during the jumps as he was the only one who didn’t have the military buzzcut.

Let me make this perfectly clear: this did not detract from my enjoyment of the play IN ANY WAY.

The music was outstanding. I don’t know a damn thing about the Scottish military but as a fan of music, I wanted more. I would’ve bought the soundtrack if it had been for sale and I hadn’t already spent my money on a pre-show scotch (because OBVIOUSLY). The boys do some chanting and at one point Paul Higgins sings. He sings. Now, I don’t know if you’ve heard the man speak. If not, rectify this IMMEDIATELY:

Ok, that’s done and out of the way. Now, imagine this voice, the pristinely Scottish male voice of maleness, SINGING. Yeah. It was just like that, but better because it’s happening RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU. Jesus Christ, seriously. That’s a way to go right there. And then there was the marching. The last 10 minutes or so was coordinated marching, choreographed to include drills, a bagpipe, and support for when members of the platoon would stumble and fall while marching and the boys would be right there to pick them back up again. Coming at this play with zero military background, it was pretty moving. And it was moving pretty. And I don’t mean to discount the war & political angle of the whole piece, but I can honestly recommend it to anyone interested in war and/or pretty men moving in formation.

This is also the part where I talk about changing seats. When I first walked into the room, I just grabbed a seat. Didn’t think twice about it, just grabbed one and sat down. Turns out I was sitting right next to THE MOST ANNOYING FIDGETY GIRL EVER MADE EVER. You’re seating in bleacher seats, you don’t fucking bounce your leg. Let alone both of them. People in the row ahead of us were turning around and asking her to stop, which lasted all of 10 seconds before she saw a fucking butterfly or a starfish or something and started up again. But clever me spotted a seat across the court, a single seat between two couples. Because that’s how I roll. I switched to the new seat, which had the added benefit of being in the first row and not set aside for handicapped seating, and it turned out my new neighbor was not a leg bouncing twatbubble but a REAL LIVE SCOTSMAN. If I had stayed in my original seat, I would’ve seen Paul Higgins in all of his changing glory. There likely would have been leg. However, I would’ve missed all of it after having already been dragged out for first degree assault against a woman with her own leg.

I think I chose wisely.

And CHRIST his eyes are massive. Having seen him in person now I’m thinking they may seem larger than life because he’d possibly blow over in a stiff wind, but the fact remains. Big huge eyes. Perfect adam’s apple. Big…shoes…

And now I need to watch every single bit of Paul Higgins that I have in the house, and try not to think of the fact that the man is likely less than 5 miles from my home.

And for full disclosure, here’s Glen, because the world needs more dancing Glen.

Precision Engineered Comedy – Peter Capaldi from Chris Balmond on Vimeo.

They’ve chosen a rather interesting selection of US cities for this tour: DC, UNC, Austin, and Chicago. Surely this is a second or third US run. Surely I could give two fucks: he’s coming to town and I’ve promised Effbit I won’t get arrested but fucking hell it’s general admission and I’ll be damned if I’m not first in line to get in. This will require the same level of clothing and makeup preparation as Rickman, although it will ultimately receive more because we sorta slapdashed that shit together. Of course, I say that and the Rickman *did* make eyes at our girl, so maybe it’s my turn.

By the way – THIS is Paul Higgins. Imagine THIS in a crewcut and Scottish fatigues.