Mmmmmmmmm
I made my Turkey Sloppy Joe of DELIGHT and the best thing is that I now have five servings of veggies, protein and carbs at my beck and call whenever I like. I'll actually be cooking again tomorrow, I think (couscous and squash and carrots with tuna packed in olive oil) but it's just nice to know that if I suddenly decide that cooking would be the worst thing in the world, I could just nuke some sloppy joes for a minute and be satisfied.
I augmented my Seriously, Relax: A To Do List (this is not an oxymoron) by watching Quantum of Solace in place of a bubble bath. I am now sipping wine, counting Joe's eyelashes, and definitely not writing.
Seriously though. I promise I will write you all drabbles that will probably be deci-drabbles because I am not a very brief writer.
Picspam? Come enjoy Joe with me ladies.
I think I spammed about a million people's journals talking about how much I loved that he was dressed so slickly, like the most cynical and apathetic hipster and yet it's completely undercut by his GIANT gorgeous doe eyes.
It makes shots like these kind of kill me. Like what is going on here? That guy on the left looks like he's about to cry, the guy on the right has some list he's clutching like a lifeline. Some old guy looks pissed behind him. And Joe is there, serene and vulnerable and fucking smoking hot.
See what I mean? About the smoking hot? Also, tee-hee, candy pink lips.
I can't tell if their stylist came back from a long vacation, rolled up her sleeves, and was like, "OH HELL NO!" after all the ill-fitting shirts and jeans we've been suffering through or if they've got a new stylist. Either way, Joe? Approved. APPROVED.
Hey pwincess remember how Joe's face didn't ping too high on that "Do you have an ideal face" meme? I THINK THIS PHOTO WOULD BE OFF THE CHARTS. Just saying.
Also awesome was that he was Scruffy McScrufferson squiring Chelsea Staub, flirting with girls from Glee, and yet he was well. A bit swishy.
Or a lost swishy. As the case may be.
I augmented my Seriously, Relax: A To Do List (this is not an oxymoron) by watching Quantum of Solace in place of a bubble bath. I am now sipping wine, counting Joe's eyelashes, and definitely not writing.
Seriously though. I promise I will write you all drabbles that will probably be deci-drabbles because I am not a very brief writer.
Picspam? Come enjoy Joe with me ladies.
I think I spammed about a million people's journals talking about how much I loved that he was dressed so slickly, like the most cynical and apathetic hipster and yet it's completely undercut by his GIANT gorgeous doe eyes.
It makes shots like these kind of kill me. Like what is going on here? That guy on the left looks like he's about to cry, the guy on the right has some list he's clutching like a lifeline. Some old guy looks pissed behind him. And Joe is there, serene and vulnerable and fucking smoking hot.
See what I mean? About the smoking hot? Also, tee-hee, candy pink lips.
I can't tell if their stylist came back from a long vacation, rolled up her sleeves, and was like, "OH HELL NO!" after all the ill-fitting shirts and jeans we've been suffering through or if they've got a new stylist. Either way, Joe? Approved. APPROVED.
Hey pwincess remember how Joe's face didn't ping too high on that "Do you have an ideal face" meme? I THINK THIS PHOTO WOULD BE OFF THE CHARTS. Just saying.
Also awesome was that he was Scruffy McScrufferson squiring Chelsea Staub, flirting with girls from Glee, and yet he was well. A bit swishy.
Or a lost swishy. As the case may be.