Daryl Dixon . . . WTF!
I have a new crush . . .
No, this does not mean that I have forsaken Gene Hunt - he is my forever love (along with John Lennon, Bob Dylan and Pink Floyd - some loves are for life)
My new crush is - wait for it . . . . . Daryl Dixon.
Yes folks, I have fallen hard for the badass zombie kiiller and his alter egos, Norman Reedus and Murphy Macmanus of the Boondock Saints.
Badass mofo with a heart of gold and crossbow that brings flowers and an ear necklace to his lady love through a zombie infested wilderness - what's not to love?
This is my new squeeze as I've grown to love him:
Pretty isn't he?
Anyway, I've been happily indulging myself in reading Boondock Saints and Walking Dead porn when, all of a suddy, I came across this photo which is wrong on every single level that I can think of but which, may the Gods forgive me, is probably one of the hottest things I have ever seen. . .
I'm sick.
I'm a sick, sad, hormonal old cow but - - - my God!
Tis an image that will keep me awake at nights.
What the fuck is wrong with me that I find this image incredibly erotic. I just want to rip his skirt off and lick the makeup right off his face.
It's the hormones isnt' it? I'm menopausal so I'm finding weird things erotic.
AAAARGH!
Maybe I'm drinking too much home made wine. Maybe my imagination is just a tad *too* vivid.
Is it just me? I don't think it can be. Obviously the photographer thought this was a good idea (Gods bless him/her whoever it was) and was sufficiently moved by the image to post it on t'interweb so sad old fucks like me could find it and perv over it (actually he's only a couple of years younger than me so I don't think it really counts as perving - a comforting thought).
Ah well, I think I'll just have another glass of the old Peach & Banana wine, gaze at this image for couple of hours more and then go to bed and try to pretend that I don't need a dry pair of knickers.
Poor, sad old me
Drooly drooly drool
No, this does not mean that I have forsaken Gene Hunt - he is my forever love (along with John Lennon, Bob Dylan and Pink Floyd - some loves are for life)
My new crush is - wait for it . . . . . Daryl Dixon.
Yes folks, I have fallen hard for the badass zombie kiiller and his alter egos, Norman Reedus and Murphy Macmanus of the Boondock Saints.
Badass mofo with a heart of gold and crossbow that brings flowers and an ear necklace to his lady love through a zombie infested wilderness - what's not to love?
This is my new squeeze as I've grown to love him:
Pretty isn't he?
Anyway, I've been happily indulging myself in reading Boondock Saints and Walking Dead porn when, all of a suddy, I came across this photo which is wrong on every single level that I can think of but which, may the Gods forgive me, is probably one of the hottest things I have ever seen. . .
I'm sick.
I'm a sick, sad, hormonal old cow but - - - my God!
Tis an image that will keep me awake at nights.
What the fuck is wrong with me that I find this image incredibly erotic. I just want to rip his skirt off and lick the makeup right off his face.
It's the hormones isnt' it? I'm menopausal so I'm finding weird things erotic.
AAAARGH!
Maybe I'm drinking too much home made wine. Maybe my imagination is just a tad *too* vivid.
Is it just me? I don't think it can be. Obviously the photographer thought this was a good idea (Gods bless him/her whoever it was) and was sufficiently moved by the image to post it on t'interweb so sad old fucks like me could find it and perv over it (actually he's only a couple of years younger than me so I don't think it really counts as perving - a comforting thought).
Ah well, I think I'll just have another glass of the old Peach & Banana wine, gaze at this image for couple of hours more and then go to bed and try to pretend that I don't need a dry pair of knickers.
Poor, sad old me
Drooly drooly drool