Changing of the (Fantasy) Guard…and something for Orange
My Stress Level peaked (or is it “piqued”?) this weekend, and then eased, such that now I’m feeling much better about stuff in general and my belly is a little less a snarling traffic jam of worry and bad food, and a little more a simple bumpy country road leading to a sparkling lake and fresh berries.
Or some flowery poetry shit like that.
The upshot is that now I have more time for fantasy, now that the ToDo lists have been pared down to Manageable, and my head isn’t so full of crap.
Fantasy Boyfriends. That is. Sexy ones.
I did some rearranging this weekend, kicking one of my Men to the curb, elevating an alternate to Set-in-Stone Fantasy Boyfriend status, and finding out just what constitutes My Type.
Y’know what I like?
Strong guys. I don’t necessarily mean body-strong (although it’s nice), but mentally strong…opinionated…brave…cynical…smart...funny...some sort of kick-ass-ness that whips my head around. And a receeding hairline doesn’t hurt. Mmmm-hmmm…. 'Course you know that Sergei fulfills most of the requirements except the hair part...it's lush and gorgeous. Mmmm-hmmm....
The current line-up, in no order (and yeah, I'm linking to the photos 'cause I'm being watched):
Mike Rowe (Dirty Jobs host, Discovery Channel narrator, handsome hunk of beefcake in a tight sweaty tshirt)
Colin Firth (the image of Mister Darcy, rising from the pond with his shirt wet and clinging to that chest…oh mama….)
Jason Statham (daaaaaaamn…any fight scene he’s in makes me instantly wet)
John Cusack (oh c’mon, how could he not be?)
Mike Doughty (I want to eat his voice and poop it out in statue form, it’s that delicious)
Orange, my love, come see! Come see! Mike Rowe from The Way Back Machine, before DJ, naked (sort of)…in his kitchen…lawd, the fantasies….