the nomness

I watched an NFL double-header on Fox today and had to avert my eyes and ears (what) every time a House promo came on. The little bit of info that made it through before I earmuffed it has led to me overthinking tomorrow’s episode. It seems to involve the hospital (yay!), Cameron (ehh, surefinewhatever), and possibly James Earl Jones? Intriguing. And Foreman’s mustache seemed to be way out in front for some reason, although not quite to the extent of Broncos’ quarterback Kyle Orton. Holy shit Namath, live the line – you KNOW their record is at least 85% attributable to the ’stache (which looks WAY better in Denver than it ever did in Chicago) (maybe ‘better’ is the wrong word. more powerful?) (and apologies to regular readers for all the NFL talk, but…..no, fuck that noise. I AM READY FOR SOME FOOTBALL).

I was pulling some images off my phone the other day and realized I have quite the selection of paused images from my projector. On occasion I’ll be watching something that Effbit needs to see so I’ll pause the thing and send her a pic. This has resulted in an amusing collection of mostly skewed images of yummy menfolk that I now feel compelled to share. Enjoy, until tomorrow (or, god forbid, Eff actually ever posts anything EVER AGAIN).

Balls!

C’mon, I couldn’t resist. The fact that I was battling both House & Wilson in order to make jokes about balls had me giggling for way longer than was entirely necessary. Then I’d catch glimpse of the steel grey and lose my train of thought once more. I don’t care how OOC this neuHaus is, I love it. He’s obviously still gonna be an ass (thank god) but now he’s an ass trying to change for the better, and getting to see him in these over-the-top ridiculous situations is perhaps our little present for sticking with him as long as we have. I’m also dying to get some syringes and try the egg trick. I love everything about the egg trick. Except the apron.

But really…can we get him back into the hospital now? The gnocchi scene was cute and all but I don’t wanna watch flirty flirts over baked potatoes. Beyond that, I guess the dick mantle has been officially passed to Foreman (but he seriously needs to keep away from House’s balls), thank god Cuddy ditched those fugly bangs, I LOVE nerds but this POTW made me want to murder, and Taub is the greatest.

Heh. Could NOT resist. This’ll be a regular Tuesday morning thing going forward I’m sure.

Just talkin’ ’bout shaft….what. First off (or I guess second at this point), I HATE watching broadcast programming. I hate the commercials and my projector hates the video signal, choosing to display at easily half the brightness it proudly displays every single other piece of video I chuck at it. My old Star Wars VHS tapes are brighter than network programming for godssake, and I’m talking Han Shot First old. Jesus Christ network programming, quit trying to browbeat me into HD by making SD a painful bitch to watch. I HAVE an HD projector. I don’t WANT to pay for HD cable. Bitches. Ahem.

I swear I’m of half a mind to track down last night’s ep online to watch again in proper contrast but I’ve promised myself to watch this season live and not to partake in any Tuesday morning cheating. And honestly, after last night I’m of half a mind full stop. Really? It takes a month in a sanitorium for House to successfully charm his way onto Lola’s chair? Really? A) there’s no way she held out that long, and 2) I still think he was faking the healing because he was a huge fan of that movie and just wanted to see how she’s aging. Turns out, pretty fucking A-OK even without the tangerine hair. Other than that, motherfuckin’ NYAGHHhh. House knows he’s pretty but seeing him use his powers for good instead of evil is a heady thing and I’m glad I made that no-downloads promise to myself because otherwise I’d be getting very little work done today. In a chair. Shit…may have to stand all day.

Last night’s ep was incredible on many levels but I think the biggest one is that I honestly can’t picture this new House at PPTH. Dealing with Wilson after hours, yes. But Evil Nurse Brenda? Cuddy? Cottages? I honestly can’t see it, nor can I see how they’ll accept that he’s actually changed (and also to see how easy it may be to get this new soberho onto a chair *CUDDY*). She should organize a hospital-wide screening of last night’s ep so everyone can take the same journey we did, to understand that he sincerely wants to change. But then we run into this pesky problem of fantasy vs reality, and this is why Effbit is my BFFandEver. We straddle that line with limitless flexibility.

Jesus, and here’s where I should be posting pics from last night’s ep but since I’m not DL’ing I can’t screencap. Fuck. I may have to make allowances for Tuesday morning posts.

Dearest Gentle Readers,

I am back. I didn’t post while away, I’m terribly sorry. For this reason, please allow me to rant.

I hate MOTHERFUCKING AT&T.

Here’s the situation. I was an AT&T customer for years (back when it was Cingular, then AT&T – it may or may not have been AT&T first, but sure, I can’t remember…). Their customer service was horrid. I mean EVERY MONTH for the last year of my contract I had a problem with the bill. Random numbers (to and from Brazil?! My Portuguese is nonexistent), charges, and just very abrasive CS reps. Awful. So finally, I switched to Tmobile. Choosing them was primarily a decision based on their international rates, both while in the US and while abroad. You see, this may not have been clear earlier, but I do a fair bit of traveling.

All was well and good for several years. Then the iPhone was introduced. And motherfucking AT&T holds the monopoly on their service. Well, I held out. For 2 years. And this year, as my 2nd Blackberry died, I figured, why the hell not.

Well, I’ll tell you why the hell not. They charge OUT THE ASS for Data Roaming. Seriously. It was fecking INSANE what they wanted to charge me. 20G for 29.99? Have you ANY IDEA the amount of EMAILS alone that I receive on this bloody thing?

Not to mention that everyone in Dublin seems to be stingy with their Wifi (what, I can’t steal service from you? AW, C’MOOOOON!!!!). So, my work was lagging, my blogging was nonexistent, and I believe that Laymee and I nearly had to be committed due to separation anxiety.

I should also make clear that on a personal note, I cannot seem to focus at ALL lately.  Everything I can do to keep on top of work!!

But here we go. A little of Ireland for you.

First pint on Irish soil for this trip. It's a tradition, always in the Dublin airport. As this is not just a tradition for yours truly, I honestly believe the airport has one of the best pints in Dublin; they go though the stuff like mad. Frequently poured = Fresh Guinness.

So back to the matter at hand.  Have any of you seen this chef d’oeuvre?

Yes, I can give you a moment.  Sweet baby Jesus, I certainly needed one.

There is some business we have to discuss. Jordan, I am woman enough to admit that I have a nearly less than platonic hard on for you.  Laymee has professed her “admiration” for yourgoodself, and we applaud you.  In offering, allow me to present this:

This, I'm sure, has some significance to you, Jordan, and so, enjoy.

Which brings us to why we fancy clever-types such as our blogcrush over there.  Wit.  Ladies, if a fella can make me laugh, he already has a foot in the door.  Which leads us to the obvious progression that almost anything else he wishes can follow.

That’s all there is to it. And meth is NOT a good look for my man (or any man, come to think of it). I am in a STATE waiting for tonight’s premiere as this will be the first time in forever and ever that I’ve actually planned to watch a show as it airs. I’m usually one of those DVD marathon fans. I was slightly spoiled to the events of last season before getting my S5 DVDs but nothing beat actually seeing them all at once and commercial-free. That’s a beautiful thing and my GOD he is a beautiful thing.

So now I’m ready. I marathoned that shit over the past week, I’m down with the “it was all a dream” bullshit because it was a BALLS HAWT dream and I can get behind that. I love the hair, I love the potential of Potente, I am READY. And I am attempting to remain unspoiled for each episode. I’ll read everything up and down after it airs, but I’ve seen only one preview and am kinda wishing I hadn’t seen that. I guess it helps that I don’t regular watch TV. It also helps that House doesn’t air on Turner Classics, thus further decreasing the off-chance I’d see an ad. Woohoo!

Just have to wait 8 more hours. Crap.

Mistah Lover Lover

So if I’m celebrating all things Irish (and by things I mean menfolk, and by celebrating I mean thinking-naughty-thoughts-about), sooner or later I’ll have to deal with the U2 question, so why not now. U2 is an outrageously good band, but a band that has remained completely asexual in my head. I take the band almost entirely as a single functioning unit from Bono’s bug-eye glasses to The Edge’s perma-beanie, to Adam’s and Larry’s appropriate instruments. Whichever they happen to be. And yes I had to look up the other two dudes.

However, I consider my complete ignorance of the inner workings of U2 to be the biggest compliment I can give them and their music. I could truly give two shits about them as people (and this is a compliment how?), but I have seen them in concert and cried those kinds of tears that squeak out of your surprised head while you sit there wondering if you’ve recently come to a sudden stop. One takes stock of the situation…am I injured? Am I sad? Intriguing, I should really be HOLYSHIT they’re playing City of Blinding Lights and now I’ve got goosebumps and need to go cry some more.

Aaand scene.

So I did a bit of research into U2 earlier today and learned that I did know a bit about them personally. I knew I liked that little beanie-headed bastid. How did I come to separate him from the out of focus guys behind bug-eyes?

Specifically, that little shrug at 3:36 after he gets the roses thrown at him. It’s funny what the nombrain will notice. I remember this song when it came out and I remember seeing the video, but until earlier today I really couldn’t place why I remembered it. Turns out, The Edge is a bit of cutie pie. Who knew? Presumably Mrs. Edge but certainly few others would delve beyond the idiocy of that name and who could blame them.

HOWEVER.

The man can play some damn guitar. And this is what strikes me as rather curious about U2 as a whole: they don’t seem an overly or overtly sexual band. They can rock the shit, they can certainly put out the babymaking tunes, but I’ve honestly never thought nekkid thoughts of any of them. Not even beanie. Not even NOW, when TRYING. This freaks me out a little because I will crush on anyone at the drop of a hat. Or beanie. Maybe that’s it, who knows. It’s weirding me out though, and it’s making me wonder if anyone else actually sees anyone in the band as the hottest thing since sliced mancake.

For instance, I’m seeing It Might Get Loud later this afternoon. Three guitar gods in a few different rooms, doing what comes naturally to them. I’m premagining some hot Page on White licks, some bold strokes from White back to Page, and all while The Edge watches on the sidelines, fiddling with his knobs. Jack White is teh sex. Jimmy Page is TEH SEX. The Edge is an awfully cute cutie pie who doesn’t seem to mind feet in his face. Curious. Maybe I’ll come out of the film with a better and more lustful appreciation for the man. I hope so; otherwise I’ll feel bad for just liking the music.

In the meantime (and HOLYSHIT I just typo’d ‘mantime’), I offer this selection of pictures of The Edge. Also, seriously….wtf’s with that name? Do people call him Edge for short? If this film answers anything it better goddamn well answer that.

“Liam Neeson, quite frankly, is sex on legs. Always has been.” Halle-bloody-Irish-lujah. (btw…say irish-lulah outloud, like right now. awesome) Somehow I do not remember him from Husbands and Wives (one of my favorite of Allen’s more serious ones), but IMDB tells me he’s in it. No, it took Schindler’s List to bring him to the forefront of my loins (not to mention Ralph Fiennes), because nothing says sexpot like a good man trying to do good. Actually, plenty of other things do, and quite often those things will not involve genocide. Maybe I should get out more. Or, fuck it, cut to the pictures (starting of course with the requisite smoky one).

I don’t even know what this next one is from, or why hot men who have been beaten look even hotter (even when it might not be obvious that they’re saying “you should’ve seen the other guy”), unless it’s to imagine the inevitable scene where he whips ten shades of shit back to the punter who dared think of escaping unscathed. Yeaahhh, that’s probably it.

I am a stupid fan of the movie Love Actually. I say this with no shame, because the movie is funny and hokey and Christmas-y and British and heartening and there’s just really no fucking way I’d be able to not be a fan. If I’m ever feeling bad I can watch this movie and it will actually make me feel better. This is absurd and the fact of it makes me cringe in all my other 2000 parts, but it is a fact. I like to think that FutureMan will find this one of my more endearing qualities, and he’ll laugh quietly as I’m quivering with barely contained tearful joy at the little boy running all over the damn airport.

And here’s where I bring it all back around to the man in question (because I KNOW I’ve lost you now). Obviously he’s in his movie (and how hard it must’ve been for Emma Thompson to act brotherly toward one she would rather be jumping. I love Emma Thompson; she really is *that* good an actor). He’s beautiful, but I think my favorite parts of his character are the ones involving him and his stepson and usually the dads don’t do it for me. Men at a dad age or beyond, fuck yes. But dads themselves? Not really. They aren’t specifically unattractive, but they’re not specifically attractive either, when in dad mode. But I want to jump Liam Neeson when he calls his stepson a wee motherless mongrel, and I want to jump him when he recounts to the boy how he and Claudia Schiffer would have to have sex in every room of the house including his. I’m sure there’s something not entirely healthy in these admissions, but fuck it. The film is not searching for any deep dark human secrets and neither am I. I’m just enjoying the Christmas candy, and my GOD there’s a lot of it there. [Effbit, we HAVE to do an entire post just on LA. It. Must. Happen]

So, to summarize (oh god, I almost spelled this with two S’s) (this makes me inordinently happy).

The man looks good with his clothes on.

The man looks good with his clothes off.

The man just looks fucking GOOD.

And Emma Thompson knows it, and respects it. She’s part of our club (though of course if she ever were, we would absolutely have jackets made up celebrating the fact) (Emma, kidding, we’d be totally chill, I swear).

I figured it’s only right to start with a controversial choice. Peter O’Toole is, quite possibly, not even Irish. Perfect; this is the sort of Irish I can ease into. Ahem…

A lot of my noms are of the black & white variety and you just can’t deny what some men look like sans color information. Especially men with silly blue twinkly eyes and crazy good acting chops. Can you imagine a world where Lawrence of Arabia is a leading man’s first film role?

And in fitting nomness fashion, he has spent his entire professional life playing the role of rapscallion and raconteur. A famous drunk (one of the few legends still living), he has turned down a knighthood, raised a ruckus when bestowed with an honorary Oscar a few years back (he should’ve won for Lawrence, although if you’re gonna lose then placing second to Peck in Mockingbird is fair enough), and can still bring the acting pain (witness Venus). And of course, there’s the whole smoking hot thing.

So Effbit has all eff’d back to the motherland for a wedding. The fact that neither of us is in NYC right now is making me crazy even though I obviously have no purchase with which to cause a ruckus. Still…with my crazy recent britfest (now entering the Netflix TV mini-series phase), if I can’t be in NY then I’d just as soon be in Britain or right across the small pond from it and DAMMIT that’s where she is. Crazy Irish. She best get her ass back to town soon because she’s gonna owe you people MAAAD posts. On the other hand, she could scoop up a sweet accent man for me if she works it right so maybe she should take her sweet time. I told her to be fearless in interviewing men she meets; she already vets people for me, so it’s really only a simple step further to record some liltingly dulcet tones. Yummmmm.

So, in honor of Effbit’s trip (where she better not be having too much fun), I will be posting under a theme. She was complaining that I never seemed to fancy her countrymen so for the next two weeks I plan to offer a selection of hawt Irish. Not sure if I’ll run out early or not (KIDDING) (I think?), but consider this the gauntlet having been thrown and picked up again because you really shouldn’t leave that sort of thing just sitting around because that’s how wars get started and Great Britain will get the blame, I just know it.