Tampilkan postingan dengan label award-winning secret boyfriend. Tampilkan semua postingan
Tampilkan postingan dengan label award-winning secret boyfriend. Tampilkan semua postingan
Senin, 17 Desember 2012
Jumat, 07 Desember 2012
new holiday favorite
For years and years I used to wrap Christmas gifts while watching Little Women. (I needed a break from the Christmas letter--my head was aching from thinking so hard.) It was tradition to open up with Jo and the gang spreading Christmas cheer to the poor family up the road while I set up the gifts and paper, sobbing into the tissue paper when Beth dies and they make up her bed for a final time, clenching the scissors when Jo tells Laurie it's over, really over. Watching each Christmas with the March family was like going through old photo albums. Familiar and beloved as we moved through the years together.
But this year I felt the urge to change it up. Jen on the Edge swears by Die Hard as a pretty righteous Christmas flick, but I'm kind of gunned-out after that last episode of Sons of Anarchy. I'm saving White Christmas to watch with the boys this year, and of course Miracle on 34th Street, A Christmas Story and It's A Wonderful Life are full-family viewing events. I'm out of wine, so Love, Actually has to wait until next week.
I scanned the rack of DVDs and realized I'd been depriving myself of one of the best Christmas movies of all:
It's brilliant! The whole thing begins at the office Christmas party!
There are hideous holiday sweaters (on the world's most gorgeous man with those smoldering brown eyes).
Bridget and I were like twins in our Christmas jammies! And I sing loud and off-key, too!
Snowman tie! Awkward Christmas party moment! I'm there!
The perfect gift--ladies, do you feel as weak in the knees as I do when he walks out of that shop and gives the new diary to her?
And a perfect ending...
Could there be a more romantic Christmas-y moment than a first kiss during a snowfall on a quaint English intersection? I defy you to find a better one. It cannot be done.
Plus there's this scene (which reminds me I NEED to download that song). All of it, especially the way they politely pause to sing "Happy Birthday" always cracks me up. So proper. So British. So fabulous.
Every woman wants to hear a man tell her, "I don't think you're an idiot at all. I mean, there are elements of the ridiculous about you. Your mother's pretty interesting. And you really are an appallingly bad public speaker. And, um, you tend to let whatever's in your head come out of your mouth without much consideration of the consequences... But the thing is, um, what I'm trying to say, very inarticulately, is that, um, in fact, perhaps despite appearances, I like you, very much. Just as you are."
Spill it, reader. What's your unconventional holiday favorite?
P.S. In case you didn't hear, Mrs. G over at Derwad Manor has some REALLY BIG NEWS! I can hardly wait to hostess a screening party the night it airs!
But this year I felt the urge to change it up. Jen on the Edge swears by Die Hard as a pretty righteous Christmas flick, but I'm kind of gunned-out after that last episode of Sons of Anarchy. I'm saving White Christmas to watch with the boys this year, and of course Miracle on 34th Street, A Christmas Story and It's A Wonderful Life are full-family viewing events. I'm out of wine, so Love, Actually has to wait until next week.
I scanned the rack of DVDs and realized I'd been depriving myself of one of the best Christmas movies of all:
It's brilliant! The whole thing begins at the office Christmas party!
There are hideous holiday sweaters (on the world's most gorgeous man with those smoldering brown eyes).
Bridget and I were like twins in our Christmas jammies! And I sing loud and off-key, too!
Snowman tie! Awkward Christmas party moment! I'm there!
The perfect gift--ladies, do you feel as weak in the knees as I do when he walks out of that shop and gives the new diary to her?
And a perfect ending...
Plus there's this scene (which reminds me I NEED to download that song). All of it, especially the way they politely pause to sing "Happy Birthday" always cracks me up. So proper. So British. So fabulous.
Every woman wants to hear a man tell her, "I don't think you're an idiot at all. I mean, there are elements of the ridiculous about you. Your mother's pretty interesting. And you really are an appallingly bad public speaker. And, um, you tend to let whatever's in your head come out of your mouth without much consideration of the consequences... But the thing is, um, what I'm trying to say, very inarticulately, is that, um, in fact, perhaps despite appearances, I like you, very much. Just as you are."
Spill it, reader. What's your unconventional holiday favorite?
P.S. In case you didn't hear, Mrs. G over at Derwad Manor has some REALLY BIG NEWS! I can hardly wait to hostess a screening party the night it airs!
Senin, 19 Maret 2012
muttonchop monday
It's been too long since the last Muttonchop Monday. Today let's focus on a man whose musical chops and muttonchops have made me feel weak in the knees and short of breath for decades.
He's comfortable blue jeans, broken in.
Weathered.
Sexy.
Did I mention the guitar?
Or the gravel-edged voice?
The way his butt looks in those Levis?
How he makes me sing at the top of my lungs every December when I hear him on the radio--Santa Claus is Comin' To Town.
How he makes me want to straddle a motorcycle and ride through a desolate landscape with wind raking my hair and his voice urging in my ear, Baby, we were born to run.
He makes my heart ache with melancholy.
He makes me proud to be Born in the USA.
He's leather.
He's sweat.
He's soul.
He's working class.
He's heroic.
He's gentle.
He's tough.
He's rock and roll.
He's rebel.
He. Is. The. Boss.
Sixty-two and still rocking my world with his talent and that face.
True story: when he sings Secret Garden to me it makes me feel beautiful. If you haven't heard him sing it to you, reader, you really should.
Raising my coffee cup to The Boss, this morning. One bad-ass rock star with muttonchops and heart.
He's comfortable blue jeans, broken in.
Weathered.
Sexy.
Did I mention the guitar?Or the gravel-edged voice?
The way his butt looks in those Levis?
How he makes me sing at the top of my lungs every December when I hear him on the radio--Santa Claus is Comin' To Town.
How he makes me want to straddle a motorcycle and ride through a desolate landscape with wind raking my hair and his voice urging in my ear, Baby, we were born to run.
He makes my heart ache with melancholy.He makes me proud to be Born in the USA.
He's leather.
He's sweat.
He's soul.He's working class.
He's heroic.
He's gentle.
He's tough.He's rock and roll.
He's rebel.
He. Is. The. Boss.
Sixty-two and still rocking my world with his talent and that face.True story: when he sings Secret Garden to me it makes me feel beautiful. If you haven't heard him sing it to you, reader, you really should.
Raising my coffee cup to The Boss, this morning. One bad-ass rock star with muttonchops and heart.
Senin, 27 Februari 2012
what are you wearing?
In my Oscar Fantasy (the one where I accept Best original Screenplay) I'm wearing Colin Firth on my arm. I tell the red carpet people, "He went to Jared for the diamonds and the shoes are by Clarks."
Tim Gunn would fawn over my wit and then I'd say, "Seriously, I'm wearing Elie Saab."
Oscar Reality involved Horny Toad yoga pants, a souvenir t-shirt Mr. D bought for me in Arizona and a pair of socks by an unknown designer.
Spill it, reader. What did you wear to the Oscars?
Yes, this was a gratuitous post written only to put up the photo of Colin.
Tim Gunn would fawn over my wit and then I'd say, "Seriously, I'm wearing Elie Saab."
Oscar Reality involved Horny Toad yoga pants, a souvenir t-shirt Mr. D bought for me in Arizona and a pair of socks by an unknown designer.
Spill it, reader. What did you wear to the Oscars?
Yes, this was a gratuitous post written only to put up the photo of Colin.
Senin, 28 Februari 2011
what did you expect
Eye candy.
Dignified eye candy.
Thrice decorated eye candy.
Eye candy with style.
Royal eye candy.
Muttonchopped eye candy.