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.

Aside – truly, you must forgive the sports metaphors; the combination of moving to a sports-heavy town and signing up for a family-requested cable package [heh] has me experiencing what can only be considered a very brief but passionate interest in professional athletes and their trades. However, rest assured they are far too pretty on a far too regular basis to be honestly nommable, as Mr. Federer’s legs and pecs will testify.
/Aside

……distracted….where was I? Ah yes, the pieces and bits, the third handful’s offering of 2000 parts, the parts you keep busy with while the other parts are keeping busy. I’m talkin’ collarbones, I’m talkin’ those upper rib muscles, the triceps as it connects to the elbow (can’t wait for football season) (what?), the gumdrop earlobes, and #1 fanfic favorite por vida, the sternocleidomastoid. I’m not talking about House’s eyes, although rest assured I WILL be talking IN LENGTH about Mr. Laurie’s eyes (aaand now i need a minute). It’s not his eyes; it’s what he can do with his eyebrows that make me think stupid. It’s the shape of Mr. Rickman’s mouth AND the fact that it’s rarely closed. It’s Mr. Macy’s infuriatingly perfect diction and Mr. Martin’s jawline.

I had the thought to photoshop a frankenstein dreamboat made of various perfect parts but knew that would turn into a Saul Bass one-sheet of epic disaster likely reaching Transformerian proportions. Also, the diction thing kinda threw me. Going against everything Michael Bay was ever exposed to, in lieu of showing you examples of the pretty I quite hope to think you’ll sit quietly and dream of them, perhaps even better my list with one of your own. What else are holidays for…friends & family? Fuck ‘em, let them find their own list. Let your imagination wander, dear reader.

Should you find yourself in need of further inspiration, or perhaps a most serious buzzkill (I find the two often go hand in hand, and often with liquor), check Glengarry Glen Ross for an early bar scene between Pacino and Pryce in which Ricky Roma extolls the virtues of remembering the details. And then watch what his eyes do as he’s remembering what her eyes did.