Oh, is it Friday already? Wow. Ok, first things first……. shout out to my pops, whose bday is today. Happy Birthday, Dad. I love you like a daughter. ;) You really are the best.
Ok, so this morning I saw something PRETTY FUTHER MUCKING INCREDIBLE.
To her credit, Cassie, one of our newer bloggistas who you’ll remember debuted here on TKB with a post about farting – lol – brought it to my attention. What she told me, was that there is a comic out about Ryan Gosling. More specifically, it’s a super hero Ryan Gosling comic. Keep your pants on and put your finger away, it’s not what you think. Cause if you’re me you’re thinking, “gosh; if someone took it upon themselves to be the person credited with creating a super hero comic about Ryan Gosling, well then surely they’ve taken the task to heart. SURELY they’ve worked tirelessly to depict Ryan as he is seen through the eyes of those who love him. Surely, SURELY, this person has drawn Ryan Gosling in a way that honors the huge gym commitment he makes.
Well it turns out, whoever drew this comic totally wants Ryan Gosling dead. Because the illustrated version you’re about to see of The Gos is a beyond totes inaccurate depiction. BEYOND, beyond. Here look, judge for yourself:
Let’s start with the obvious issue… the muscles are all wrong. In that there are NONE ON HIS BODY. He is Ryan Gosling not Topher Grace. Second, the girl in the picture isn’t orgasming off his mere touch. Third, I don’t understand the 70s office attire. He is a sex symbol and actor, not an extra on the set of Office Space. Fourth, lobster claws for hands.
What do you guys think– Decent drawing of Ryan? Or total fail on the WannaBangum Scale? If you ask me, on a scale of 1 to 10, this drawing is not making me wet. (Well ok it’s making me a little wet; but that’s just because seeing his name is 60% of the journey.)
Here’s the thing. We as a society are most drawn to this manboy for three distinct reasons:
- he seems emotionally present/available and compassionate to a fault,
- he seems mysteriously emotional, and
- his thick, thick arms make our girl parts cry. With emotion, cry with emotion I mean. Of course. They cry so hard with emotion, you guys.
So that’s why this comic is kind of a buzzkill for me. Though, to the artist’s credit, I will note that he is depicted as pretty quiet and mysterious in the comic strip, so that’s essentially accurate. But again, the muscles. The musculature is everything with this guy, so where is it. The biceps, the triceps, the exquisite firmness of his thighs, his derriere and the way he walks around with it high up in the air, as if to taunt me, beckoning me with his str– ok, wait… what was I talking about again? I have completely lost my train of thought.
Let’s get to these dresses, shall we? And in a new kind of thingie I’m starting today, sort of as a thank you to everyone who gave me song suggestions this week, I’m going to recommend a tune called ‘Give Me Love’ by Ed Sheeran (from a recent Victoria’s Secret commercial) to play for your listening enjoyment, whilst you scroll through the images below which are here for your visual enjoyment. Because in my personal experience, music mixed with pretty, lovely things = mental orgasm equivalent to watching 10 minutes of a Ryan Gosling film in private. (Any of the ones in which he does not have a receding hairline. Receding hairlines are totally fine by me just not on my picture-of-virility adonis Ryan Gosling, that’s all I’m saying. It is my picture-of-virility adonis, not yours; I get to have it the way I want it.)
FYI, the dress designer is Collette Dinnigan. I lucked upon her on Pinterest recently, as one of her dresses was pinned from the lovely this is glamorous, a blogger who shares my affinity for the Elie Saabs and Valentinos and de la Rentas of the fashion world. Ok now be prepared; below are pretty much all the dresses Collette Dinnigan has probably ever made in her life, because I went a little overboard with the loving. But you cannot blame me, dahlinks, all the dresses are mahhhhvelous. I’m dying to know what you think of them. The wedding dresses, the cocktail dresses, anything. Me? Oh I am obsessed with them in a very unhealthy way. I want to buy two or three of them, escort them home in a Hummer limo, get all of us drunk on a bottle of Louis Roederer’s Cristal, arrive at my place, burn the Hummer limo to the ground because those Hummer limos are f**king BULLS**T, and then after the car-bonfire go upstairs, and you know just cuddle with all the dresses on the couch proving what a kind, considerate person I am and how I’m not just in it for the sex, and then wait until one of the dresses suggests “threesome?” and then just try on the s**t out of them. Try on the MFing S**T out of them…
uhh, NSFW pose:
thug life pose:
:: these ones are just freaking cool ::
:: wedding dress time ENGAGE ::
:: more wedding dresses that make me hot for collette ::
Ok so here’s what I’m wondering… do you agree with me on the Ryan thing or am I alone in this. Lemme know. And, WHAT IN THE WORLD DO YOU THINK OF THESE FROCKS. I don’t know if I’d say I love alllll of them like I would my own children, but there’s a good chance that a heaping handful of them are the kind I’d take home to momma. There’s just this general girly daintyness, with a dose of strength, all rolled up into each one of them. And I like that.
Happy Friday, buddies! May the fourth be with you.
xoxo - Alison