Thrusty Thursday: Bruce McCulloch

There was like an eight-way earworm battle on Twitter yesterday that got first "The Daves I Know" and then "Terriers" in my head, but also reminded me why Bruce was always my favorite Kid in the Hall. So let's get thrusty, the 1990s, Canadian, Brucio way!

Thrusty Thursday: Michael Emerson

I saw an ad for Person of Interest during last weekend's extremely depressing Patriots game, and it reminded me of one of my favorite head-scratch crushes of all time—foxy Napoleonic a-hole Ben Linus from Lost. Sure, I wanted to bang Sayid, but Ben always stuck in my brain like a splinter, well after the biceps faded with the credits.

I bet the actor who played Ben is sick of people pointing at him and shouting, "Hey, it's Ben Linus!" so I'll be respectful and call him Michael Emerson, since that's his name.

And there he was with Ken Leung, a foxy bonus two-for-one! Watch where you stick that bamboo chute, Emerson.

Here's the teaser for Person of Interest (from J.J. Abrams, the creator of Lost):

10 Worst Infomercials Ever

Thanks to the Husbo for this little Wednesday workday pick-me-up:

Switch-Off September

Never fear, never fear—Thrusty Thursday will be along later. But first, let me tell you about a month I've been dreading a bit…

Oh come on, now. Don't look at me

like that, Matt Paxton.

It's now Switch-Off September, the month in my year of Lents when I'll be giving up television. Giving up the device itself is a non-challenge; I haven't owned a TV in perhaps seven years, nor lived with one for the past four. Though as a writer I do snatch glimmers of inspiration here and there from TV, I can't really be trusted to get anything done with one around. I know my own weaknesses.

But now you can watch TV online! This has been a very nice development, since my husband and I can't listen to NPR every minute of the day (no matter what filthy liberals we are), and we've enjoyed lots of great shows over the course of a thousand dinners, thanks to Hulu and Netflix. Nothing sinful about that. And my habit of zoning out to an episode of something truly awful and voyeuristic (The Bachelor, Millionaire Matchmaker, and Hoarders, oh, Hoarders) well, that's not so bad either, really. It's a pleasant if guilty escape, and helps me turn my brain off after a long day of writerly whatnots. But I often wonder, what would I get done between five and six p.m., my down-time between finishing work and starting dinner, if I weren't zoning out to reality TV? Well, I guess I'll find out.

As with Meat-Free May, my husband can take or leave TV, so he's joining me in the project. We watched our final few shows last night, a Daily Show we'd missed (again, filthy liberals) and a couple episodes of Sarah Silverman. And then, all went silent on the laptop. We've ordered the latest installment of a dorky puzzle video game we like, Rhem (think Myst) and have lots of Angry Birds to tackle. And there's always an after-dinner walk around the park. I've also loaded up my iPad with the first wave of a digital ton of new books, and I'm looking forward to catching up on what my friends have been writing and recommending.

So, here we go! Let's find out exactly what I can accomplish with an extra hour or two a day…

Stuff that's awesome: Trailer Park Boys

Just wanted to put in a plug for Trailer Park Boys (2003–2008), the Canadian mockumentary-style comedy centered around the nefarious doings of the Sunnyvale Trailer Park's many residents. The show I think it compares most easily to is Reno 911…but TPB has more continuity and, dare I say it, depth. It's also got the most (and the most effective) running gags of any show I've ever seen, rivaled only perhaps by Arrested Development in quantity and quality. It's all about recurrence. Recurring tertiary characters, recurring jokes, recurring clothes, recurring jail sentences, recurring props (Julian's rum-and-coke, Ricky's car and oversize-hound's-tooth shirt, and Ray's piss jugs come immediately to mind for me). The show's many seasons and specials are all on Netflix Instant Watcher, so if you're a sad, deprived American (like me) do yourself a favor and get yourself hooked, now.

Quick warning—the video's full of swears.

11 Things Top Model Taught Me About Writing

Laura and Ann, go on with your weird, charming selves.

This also works for Project Runway, Top Chef, and plenty of other creative contest-based reality shows. I'm talking about writer-as-contender. Whether you're after a contest final, a contract, an agent, or a good review, they way you pursue the coveted and finite prizes of this industry matters. Here's what shows like Top Model have taught me:

1. Everyone has an off week. Even the stand-out talent on any of those weekly whittle-down shows gets a lousy critique or two. As long as the judges know you've got potential and want to see more, one missed target isn't enough to sink you.

2. The judges want to be wowed. Most judges—and indeed editors, agents, contest entry readers, reviewers—don't get off on ripping people apart. A toxic few may, which is unfortunate, but the professionals don't, I promise you. They'd far rather be delighted than disappointed.

3. Be yourself. This comes up constantly on those creative shows—know who you are and play to your strengths. Don't try be someone else, even if you love their work, and don't just go through the motions of what you think a writer does. Don't just pose. A genuine weirdo is infinitely more charismatic than a soulless imitator.

4. Be a pro. Be humble, but not self-deprecating to a point where people cringe. Believe in your work, but not to a point where you're telling the judges they don't know what they're talking about. Always be gracious, sincere, and attentive, but unafraid to admit politely that you disagree.

5. Be emotional. You know all those boring, wooden, flat, cold girls who get sent home at the start of any Top Model cycle? Don't confuse strength and poise with bottling emotions. Self-control is good. Repression is not. Unless you want to deliver stiff, lifeless, forced work, don't be afraid to feel.

6. But don't be a psycho. Like a shaken soda, intense sensations like anger, jealousy, distrust, and betrayal need to be allowed to settle before they're uncapped. Nothing undermines professionalism quicker than a reactionary outburst, fight-picking, retaliation, or passive-aggressive gossip or sabotage.

7. Be a good housemate. Your fellow writers are many things; your peers, your friends, your colleagues, your competition, your connections, your future collaborators. Friendships are invaluable in this brutal business, but respect professionalism. If you're tempted to gossip or blow off some steam, never take it for granted that no one else is listening. Snark isn't the same as wit, and as good as it might feel in the moment, it doesn't flatter you. If you're tempted to vent online, ask yourself, "Would I put this in a public post?" It's the interwebs, people. The cameras are always rolling. Never forget—the reunion show's got clips.

8. Accept defeat gracefully. If you get voted off (a contest loss, a rejection, a shitty review) take it like a pro. If appropriate, thank the judges for their time and interest, and exit with a smile. Last impressions count, too, so leave a pleasant taste in their mouths. It's okay if you're faking it for the sake of dignity—grace doesn't have to feel good.

9. Triumph just as gracefully. If your fellow contestants are heartbroken, don't do a touchdown dance at the podium. Own and celebrate your happiness, but again—dignity.

10. Tabloids are a bitch. On the grand scale of a national reality show, no matter how popular a contestant is, for every ten fans, every ten flattering gossipy blog posts about them, there will be a certain percentage of cruel ones. The same goes for reviews. No one—no author or genre or book or voice or plot—can please everyone. Not even close. And not your job. And sad as it is, some people are naturally, toxically contrary, and will make it a point to hate things that others praise. They don't matter—dodge them like turds on a hot sidewalk. For the rest, know yourself and what you're feeling, and if you're going to click on an editor or agent's e-mail or a review link, do so when you know you're in a frame of mind to handle it, good news or bad.

11. The show ends, but the job doesn't. No triumphant high or sting of defeat lasts forever. Take heart if you struggled and came up short, because one set-back is just that—one set-back. You didn't final in the Golden Heart, but a year from now, who'll care? You still get to write, and isn't that what you love? What's that you say? You won the Golden Heart? Well, bask in that excitement and take your bows, savor but don't wallow, because the glow is joyous but fleeting. Careers grow or fizzle well after the show's finale airs. When the newness and attention of a triumph wanes, what you do, alone in front of your keyboard, is what really matters. So make damn sure you love it.

Andy Whitfield with a beard…a free public service!

I noticed recently just how frequently this blog gets keyword traffic from people with good taste searching for "Andy Whitfield with a beard" and "Andy Whitfield with long hair". I'm afraid I've been luring those folks to my Thrusty Thursday post about the foxy Welsh / Australian Spartacus actor under false pretenses…but I'm now going to remedy that! And so I present, as a much-needed public service, screen grabs of Andy Whitfield with a beard and long hair! Get your sexy-Jesus kink on:

Thrusty Thursday: Rami Kashoú

I'm still catching up on past seasons of Project Runway, but at least this time I don't have to beg for the finale not to be spoilerized—I finished season four before this post. Spoil away!

This week's thrustee is Rami Kashoú, season four competitor, Palestinian fox, and, sadly, surely as fond of a nicely turned man as I am. Actually, wait…not so sad. He could never actually horn in on my manfriend's rightful territory, plus this way no other woman can have him. Result! Plus my pervy erotica-writing alter ego can more easily daydream about him kissing other boys, all with his arms and his nose and his voice and sexy, shiny noggin… Sigh. The man's got hisself some poise. And his smile makes my insides go all warm and gooey like undercooked brownies.

When I headed to YouTube in search of a bomb-ass Project Runway Rami tribute video to share with you, I was disappointed to not find any…I suspect I've been thwarted by copyright vigilance on the network's part. You win this round. But I did find one passable montage, a bit light on the gushy fan clip curation and heavy on the fashion-techno-fabulocity, but it'll have to do.

Thrusty Thursday: Tina Fey

Several months ago it was suggested to me by the #1 Fun Blog's Special Correspondent Mike Myers (special because he can pee standing up) that I ought to consider thrusting against a woman one of these weeks. Alrighty then! You got it. The thrusting will be more platonic than it might be toward, say, Vincent Regan, but I'm game.

There is really only one choice for the inaugural lady-thrustin'. Tina Fey. Or more specifically, Liz Lemon. If you enjoy comedy and haven't seen 30 Rock, you are truly doing yourself a disservice. It's a great sitcom (no laugh track, hallelujah) that's stayed incredibly consistent in tone and quality for the past five seasons (and every single one of those seasons is on Nexflix Instant Watcher, incidentally).

For the uninitiated, Tina Fey plays comedy writer Liz Lemon, a character who is equal parts Cathy (of the infamous comic strip) and Mary Richards (of the Mary Tyler Moore Show). She is impossibly flawed, but in wonderful, atypical, original ways for a female TV character…she eats cheese late at night, she drunk-dials her prospective condo association board, she makes terrible romantic choices, she is petty, mean, pathetic, hopeless, conniving, hypocritical, weak, and lazy, yet you can't help but love her. It's really rather remarkable. In fact, I suspect 30 Rock may be the only show I can think of wherein I'm more excited for a certain female character's scenes than a male's. I can even forgive that the audience is supposed to overlook Tina Fey's rather striking good looks and believe that Liz Lemon is a fairly average woman, physically. For everything else 30 Rock delivers, I will happily buy in to that fantasy.

As I've said before, I find few things more endearing than when someone is unafraid to be seen at their most unflattering—making weird faces, owning up to bodily functions, generally being a flawed human being. And so I'll leave you all with this, the genius of Tina Fey, montaged:

A thousand times, yes!

I wish I could credit whomever created this infographic, but their identity remains an interwebs mystery. So instead, my thanks to the manfriend, who found this via Reddit, and who is extremely forgiving of my often thinly veiled desire to run away with my Canadian back-up husband Les Stroud.

Thrusty Thursday: Andy Whitfield

Foxy as a ye olde asse-kicker, foxy as a civilian. 

If you're a pervert like me, you wish there were just hours and hours of 300 deleted scenes, full of muddy, muscly, stylized men fighting and shouting in ye olde ancient tymes. Well there is! It's called Spartacus: Blood and Sand, a Starz show that premiered in 2010, and is poised to come back for a second season at the end of this month. I just started it last night, and it didn't disappoint. It's mad-gory, but it's that over-the-top digitized gore that's borderline silly…too like a comic book to really make me flinch.

Anyhow, the chief fox is Spartacus, naturally, played in the first season by thirty-eight-year-old Welsh-slash-Australian actor Andy Whitfield. In the early episodes he's got long hair and a beard and a sort of sexy-caveman (or perhaps sexy-Jesus) thing going on, though I wasn't able to find any excellent pictures of this. No matter. He's foxy with short hair as well. If you're super pervy (you know who you are) you will be pleased to know he (and other ancient-times foxes, many with vaguely Antipodean accents) spend much of the show scantily clad and in shackles. Plus, there's a lot of softcore porno going on. Maybe that was just to juice up the pilot episode…but I hope not. It's like butts and boobs and thrustin' every-dag-where. A good show for husbands and wives to watch together, as there's something for everyone! Also, the chicks occasionally get to kick ass alongside the men. Blam!

Bonus: Spartacus is taped in New Zealand, the most thrust-upon-able nation on Earth.

Now for the bad news—Whitfield will not be returning as Spartacus in the second season, as he's currently battling non-Hodgkin lymphoma. Sadness! But don't let that diminish your enjoyment of his thrustability. If you have a Netflix subscription, sign in and click here to go to the Spartacus: Blood and Sand page. All thirteen episodes of season one are available on Instant Watcher, joy of joys.

For a gore-free taste of brutish foxiness, check out this short segment about the show's Gladiator Camp training program:

A Year of Lents

When I was a kid, I was always secretly jealous of my Catholic friends who, in my mental wording, "got to do" Lent each spring. It seemed so romantic to me, this notion of doing without for a month. So noble and selfless. My consciousness of Lent started in the late eighties as well, which meant I was also being bombarded with media mentions of "dieting". How grown up the women on TV were, always suffering for their diets! Suffering and going without seemed so sophisticated. Clearly Catholicism is genetic, as I was raised agnostic yet inherited all the guilt and self-loathing enjoyed by my foremothers.

Already, I'm going off topic. The point is, I've decided to do an entire year of Lent-like experiments. Every month in 2011, I'm going to either go without a vice or luxury, or else commit to doing a certain positive thing each day. No moral I'm trying to prove, here—there's no point to this exercise aside from challenging myself and giving myself a healthy shove toward the edge of my comfort zone. I've come to realize in past few years just how adaptable humans are, and I want to explore that a bit more, and hopefully surprise myself with my own flexibility and will.

Here's the schedule for what I'm calling my Discipline Year (you may take that in either the punitive or reverent sense, as I expect it'll be both):

1 GYMUARY For January, each and every day I will go to the gym—a twelve-minute walk from my house. Probably not the best month to pick this one since the weather in New England can be Russian roulette, but I've been slacking badly the last few weeks, so the sooner the better. And don't worry, I won't go nuts. I'll switch between cardio and yoga and group classes and swimming so I don't injure myself.

2 FACE-OFF FEBRUARY In February, I will forgo wearing make-up the entire month. There is a reason, aside from consonance, that I picked this shortest month to not wear make-up. I like the stuff and I've been wearing it since I was about fourteen or fifteen. But I'd like to see just how differently I'll feel about myself if I go without it for a few weeks.

3 MEAGER MARCH No frivolous purchases for the month of March. That means clothes, silly stuff from CVS, coffees or drinks while I'm out and about, iTunes or book downloads…spending on necessities and groceries only. (Alcohol counts as a grocery item, however, as the hideousness that is temperance is coming later in the year.) I'm not too worried about this one.

4 NO #&$%@! APRIL For April, I'm putting the cabash on my potty-mouth, from "damn" and "hell" on up the line of profanity. This will go for out loud swearing as well as tweets and blog posts, though my characters are still allowed to cuss their everloving heads off in my manuscripts, as always. I honestly have no clue how hard this will be, and since my swearing is more habitual than willful, I will have to come up with a penance system for when I inevitably slip up…a dollar to charity or something like that.

5 MEAT-FREE MAY I'll be going vegetarian for the month of May. For now this means no meat, including poultry and seafood. I'm open to tossing eggs and dairy into the mix and upgrading to vegan… I'd miss having cream in my coffee each morning, but if I'm feeling brave at the end of April, I'll up the ante.

6 NO JAVA JUNE That's right, no coffee. I'm dreading this one. I'm allowing caffeine, but substituting rooibus and green tea and maté will not make my grief any more bearable. Coffee is as much a comforting ritual to me as it is a chemical fix.

7 JUJUBE-FREE JULY That is to say, no candy. No extraneous sugar. If a food such as wine or fruit contains natural sugar, that's fine, but no candy, sweet drinks, pastries, or packaged food with sugar as one of its top five listed ingredients.

8 UP AND AT 'EM AUGUST For August I will set my alarm and rise promptly at five a.m. each morning. Normally I get up around six thirty, but I want to see exactly what I might get accomplished in those bonus ninety minutes before the rest of the world wakes up and demands my attention. Perhaps it will just be a lot of yawning, but perhaps it will be an entire extra novella.

9 SWITCH OFF SEPTEMBER In September, I will go without TV. Considering I don't own one, this should be easy, right? Hell no. Thanks to Hulu and Instant Watcher, I've got a mean TV habit going on, and I'll need to figure out other ways to enjoy my lunch hour or unwind at five aside from tuning in to my beloved crappo reality shows. Movies will be acceptable.

10 OMMM-CTOBER For October, I will commit to practicing yoga either at home or in a class for at least forty-five minutes each day. It's something I used to do before writing became my sacred daily practice, and I'm looking forward to reconnecting with it.

11 NOVEMBOOZE That's right, no alcohol for the month of November. I'm dreading this almost as much as the coffee month. And I did pick a holiday month on purpose, just to make it tougher. If I wind up with a contract or a release date in November, I'll just have to get creative with my celebrating. Perhaps a cupcake or a new necklace in place of the usual champagne.

12 DONATE DECEMBER Each day in December I will go through my clothes and other possessions and pick one nice thing to add to a Salvation Army-type donation box. December's usually stressful, and this is an easy one for me. Getting rid of older stuff feels good, and it makes room for new and exciting things to come into one's life. Seems like a good choice for the end of the year and the holiday season.

So that's the deal! This blog will be like my 12-step meetings, so expect lots of whiny posts as I struggle through my various withdrawals and am tempted by seductive relapses. The first week of June should be especially entertaining as you watch me break up with my precious codependent lover, coffee. Oh how I will plead to get him back! And as early as next week you'll probably see posts about how very little I feel like sloshing through the icy slush to go to the gym. Stay tuned and watch me crumble. Or if you're similarly masochistic, join me for a month! If you do, let me know. I'd happily welcome any guest posters who wish to share their own self-denial experiments.

Best "New" Things This Year

Bear in mind I'm not always at the cutting edge of, well, most anything, so these are new-to-me favorites for the year, not necessarily actual new things. But anyhow, here's what topped my lists in 2010:

MOVIES District 13 (French, post-Apocalyptic-ish action, 2004), Cemetery Junction (drama, 2010), Ong-Bak (Thai, martial arts action, 2003), and Harlan County, USA (documentary, 1976).

MUSIC My boy Elvis Costello's new album, National Ransom (2010), various Lady Gaga singles, and a slew of outdated pop and hip-hop I won't embarrass myself by ennumerating.

BOOKS A Wolf at the Table by Augusten Burroughs (2008), The Shallows by Nicholas Carr (2010), 703 by Nancy Makin (2010), Attachment (2008) by Isabel Fonseca, anything by Kristan Higgins.

TV SHOWS Louis (comedy, 2010), An Idiot Abroad (reality / travel / comedy, 2010), various new-to-me seasons of Top Gear (reality, current incarnation 2002—present), seasons one through five of Say Yes to the Dress (reality, 2007–present). Oh and Hoarders, as always.

GAMES Angry Birds and Angry Birds Seasons (iPad, 2009, 2010), Mario Kart 64 (Nintendo 64 emulator, originally 1996), Machinarium (Mac, 2009), Boggle (iPad, 2010).

Thrusty Thursday: Both the dudes from Fight Quest

Doug Anderson and Jimmy Smith

Those dudes being fighters Doug Anderson and Jimmy Smith. Discovery Channel already gave my back-up husband, Survivorman's
Les Stroud as well as Dirty Jobs' Mike Rowe, and now this?! You shouldn't have!

I've mentioned Fight Quest before, I'm sure. I found this show last winter when researching a boxer character for my erotica alter ego, then revisited a few episodes this fall while deciding which martial art I wanted a current work-in-progress's romance hero to practice. It's an excellent show, which sadly only ran for one and a half seasons (2007–08). It's easy to imagine that a show about two American guys traveling around the world to try their hands at various martial arts disciplines would be chocked with swagger and ego, but Anderson and Smith are both exceedingly humble, curious, and respectful toward their foreign hosts and competitors. If you have a Netflix account and enjoy manful things like fighting, I can't recommend it enough. All thirteen episodes are on Instant Watcher—log in then click here.

Now, to the thrusting. You have a choice between the shorter 28-year-old New Jerseyite and former military bodyguard Doug Anderson, with his manfully beefy arms and chest tattoo and sideburns, or mixed martial artist Jimmy Smith, who's taller and 33 and from Los Angeles, boasting a foxy shaved head and unnecessarily impressive abdominal area. Both can kick your ass with their enviable Jiu Jitsu skillz.

But don't take my word for it. Check some footage and make your own decision.

Here's the first chunk of the boxing episode, taped in Mexico. It's long, but the short intro segment will give you a little taste for the show and its hosts.

Thrusty Thursday: Christian Marc

Who? I'm sure you're asking. Well since I'm teaching myself to touch-type this week, it's just as well that I've picked a pretty obscure nominee for the thrustin'—one with few available details to share and hence little to type about.

Christian Marc was the foxy Parisian hairstylist from America's Next Top Model, seasons twelve and earlier. He struck me as so foxy, in fact, that I was actually, properly upset when he and Sutan, the show's usual make-up artist, disappeared from the crew, seemingly never to return. Oh Christian Marc, how I miss your dark eyes and cripplingly heavy French accent and enviable collection of stylish hats. I can only pray that you and Sutan one day return with your own show…

Thrusty Thursday: Santino Rice

As I write this, the manfriend is out for the evening. I have been mired in a creative funk for the better half of a fortnight. I am just a bit self-pitiful, and just a bit tipsy. And as such, I am watching a Netflix-supplied marathon of the second season of Project Runway. I never saw this season when it was new, and it was incredibly harrowing attempting to do any research on this week's Thrusty Thursday honoree without risking spoilerizing the show for myself…and so I didn't do any research.

But travel back in time with me to 2005. In classic unlikely-lust-object Thrusty Thursday style, Santino Rice has a few strikes against him in the conventionally-sexy department. Balding, yet he sports a ponytail. Decidedly odd-looking. Not rippling with muscles or gifted with a suave voice. No clue which team he bats for, since again, I didn't do my homework. And yet…damn, he be sexy. This one of those cases of charisma (and dress sense) conquering all obstacles to create the sextasticalz. He's got that unapologetic fuck-all-y'all allure that makes me weak. Plus I'm just a sucker for a man in a fedora.

Sorry, no clip this week—can't risk ruining the season's five-years-past-current result for myself. If you want some video samples of Santino's patented breed of dry, cocky anti-charm, you're on your own. Oh and before you consider spoiling the show's result in the comments—please, think of your karma.

Thrusty Thursday: Ken Leung

Best known as Miles from Lost, I've had Ken Leung on the brain. Or rather, my erotica-writing alter ego has. If I ever wrap up my latest romance proposal and current edits, she gets to work on her ridiculous "Stanford Prison Experiment meets Survivor" manuscript, the one that involves funky POV and seven main characters in a weird battle royale psychological mindfuck, and much boinking, predictably. Her current favorite of those seven main characters is Pike, a surly half-Korean army medic from Detroit with Ken Leung's face. Thanks, Ken! What would us writers do without you poor unsuspecting actors and actresses lending us your bits and pieces? Here's a bit of Ken as Miles, showcasing a taste of that patented snark he's so damn good at:

Thrusty Thursday: Michael Sheen

I must admit, I didn't know who Michael Sheen was a week ago. I saw him for the first time as the Star in a Reasonably Priced Car on a repeat 2010 episode of Top Gear, when his squinchy eyes make my heart go all gooey. I guess he's in one of the Twilight movies and lots of other stuff, but I can't claim any earned fan-girl cred on this one. I just dig his tired-ass eyes and understated dress sense. So here, for your enjoyment, is everything I know about scruffy Welsh dreamboat Michael Sheen from his appearance on Top Gear:

Thrusty Thursday: Mike Rowe

Welcome to another installment of Thrusty Thursday, your weekly Meg-led tour into a ponderous world of alternative foxiness. I chose Mike Rowe for this week's honor because I owe him. He's the host of Dirty Jobs on the Discovery Channel, and if you haven't seen it, he basically travels around the country doing the most disgusting things imaginable. I don't actually recommend thrusting upon him unless you know for sure he's gone through a de-con shower.

I got into Dirty Jobs when I needed a visual idea of the duties of large animal veterinarians for a Montana-set romance I'm writing. There have been multiple sequences on the show featuring equine docs and cattle docs and llama docs…castration and insemination and all kinds of glamorousness. Mike Rowe has learned how to cut off horse nuts so that I don't have to.

Now for your enjoyment, someone else's lovely fan-girl montage of stills from the show:



Actually, now that I think about it, Mike is really quite properly handsome, which isn't like me… But anyhow, thanks Mike! Keep up the dirty work.

Thrusty Thursday: Martin Freeman

It's Thursday again? Time to find a new fella to highlight for Thrusty Thursday. Let's see… I like accents, tired eyes, men without too much swagger and flash…putting all that into the dreamboatometer…

Looks like today's dish is British actor Martin Freeman! He's probably best known for playing Tim in the original version of The Office. Sorry John Krasowhat'sit, but Martin will always be my favorite long-suffering salesman with the boss from hell and the coworker from…wherever Gareth is from.