If You Want To Know More...
...about the fabulous and mysterious writer Charlotte Stein, then go to my blog:
www.themightycharlottestein.blogspot.com
You will find very little that is mysterious and fabulous there, but at least it is not here. Here is a cold and barren place, undisturbed by my thoughts and feelings and mad ramblings. So maybe that means you'd prefer to remain in this land of no-Charlotte-Stein thoughts, forever untainted by my evol and all the flying fannies and cocks flinging about the place. Maybe you don't want to know about how massive and poufy Scott Cohen's hair once was, or whether Brandon Routh really does have a sausage so immense that Warner had to digitally erode it to a more manageable, less fanboy scaring size.
Maybe you don't want to know if Matthew Macfadyen or Michael Fassbender are Lords of my current manor, in which I'm sometimes the maid and sometimes the Governess and sometimes the lady of the house who has discovered a secret Gothic type of thing that involves spanking. Maybe you don't want to know if I'm currently swinging through Gotham or Metropolis or Century City, trying not to have sex all over Topher Grace or Luke Wilson or Aaron Eckhart or Hart Bochner, in case my powers explode. Maybe you don't want to know if I'm getting attacked by great waves of vampires, Timothy Olyphant and Alex O'Loughlin and Kiefer Sutherland and Bill Paxton and Chris Sarandon- type boatloads of vampires in stupid jumpers and discos. Maybe you don't want to watch me run away from robots with Michael Biehn, or delight in Jeffrey Dean Morgan's slight fatness, or cavort in Zachary Quinto's eyebrows. Maybe horror movies with Ryan Reynolds and yet more vampires with both him and Nathan Fillion are not your thing. Perhaps you have an aversion to Alex Krycek, and don't want him to torture you in some Russkie spy way until you give up your fanny.
But somehow I think you do. Oh yes you do. Go on, you know you want to.
She said, as they all ran away. Run, run away from crazy man fancier porn lady!
www.themightycharlottestein.blogspot.com
You will find very little that is mysterious and fabulous there, but at least it is not here. Here is a cold and barren place, undisturbed by my thoughts and feelings and mad ramblings. So maybe that means you'd prefer to remain in this land of no-Charlotte-Stein thoughts, forever untainted by my evol and all the flying fannies and cocks flinging about the place. Maybe you don't want to know about how massive and poufy Scott Cohen's hair once was, or whether Brandon Routh really does have a sausage so immense that Warner had to digitally erode it to a more manageable, less fanboy scaring size.
Maybe you don't want to know if Matthew Macfadyen or Michael Fassbender are Lords of my current manor, in which I'm sometimes the maid and sometimes the Governess and sometimes the lady of the house who has discovered a secret Gothic type of thing that involves spanking. Maybe you don't want to know if I'm currently swinging through Gotham or Metropolis or Century City, trying not to have sex all over Topher Grace or Luke Wilson or Aaron Eckhart or Hart Bochner, in case my powers explode. Maybe you don't want to know if I'm getting attacked by great waves of vampires, Timothy Olyphant and Alex O'Loughlin and Kiefer Sutherland and Bill Paxton and Chris Sarandon- type boatloads of vampires in stupid jumpers and discos. Maybe you don't want to watch me run away from robots with Michael Biehn, or delight in Jeffrey Dean Morgan's slight fatness, or cavort in Zachary Quinto's eyebrows. Maybe horror movies with Ryan Reynolds and yet more vampires with both him and Nathan Fillion are not your thing. Perhaps you have an aversion to Alex Krycek, and don't want him to torture you in some Russkie spy way until you give up your fanny.
But somehow I think you do. Oh yes you do. Go on, you know you want to.
She said, as they all ran away. Run, run away from crazy man fancier porn lady!