“The day I decided that Fass is an appropriate synonym for my first name”
…or…
“The man whose penis deserved an Oscar nomination as best supporting actor”
I was unsure on how to name this post, but then I realized that no one was going to actually read this text, so there.
He didn’t receive his Oscar nomination, we all know. What a shame (oh the pun I am so funny). But really, it’s a shame. I guess the Academy got themselves a little case of willy-envy (no-one to blame there), or they weren’t ready to give an award to an actor who spent 99% of screen time on his latest flick thinking about/plotting for/working at/having sex. Whatever.
Joking aside, the guy’s a really great actor. Not to mention hot. Very hot. Blindingly hot. Scruff, I love you. Lovely, lovely ginger scruff… ahem. I was saying. You haven’t seen Jane Eyre, yet? SHAME ON YOU (guh mother of the puns I am). Go watch it. It’s worth every minute.
And ooooh, dear magnetic Erik how much we loved you.
(There’s no shame, Jimmy… he has that effect on everyone)
Last but not least, I can’t not mention HUNGER. Steve McQueen, people. That movie is GLORIOUS. Heart-wrenchingly, guttingly, horrifyingly glorious. Go watch that too. Now. Multiple times. Prepare the tissues.
Speaking of hungry… I wonder if this:
is the effect that meeting the Fass has on people…
Sure would work on me.
Well, I guess it’s all for today… Thank god Tuesday’s gone.
Off to dinner, then I’ll go watch Warrior. (Again)
