Great day for Armitage! or, Dream days logging off and logging on

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fedoralady:

Serv serves us a smorgasbord of RA-related clips and announcements. Enjoy!! And thanks to S for compiling this for us. :D

Originally posted on Me + Richard Armitage:

I didn’t get lunch today — first, because I still haven’t figured out how people eat sensibly who work eight to five. The whole deck seems stacked against you, no? (Any advice?) But second, because it’s just that time of year. At some point during the day I sneaked a peek at Richard Armitage’s twitter from my work computer and saw no new tweets and collapsed the tab and went back to various registration woes.

And then, at 5, logging off my work machine, I thought, why not, and logged on on my laptop and WOW!

A new trailer for The Crucible:

An announcement about the London premiere of The Hobbit: The Battle of the Five Armies for December 1:

A…

View original 177 more words

It all matters. Our life right now. And Richard’s smile on Thorin.

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(Sorry, this post isn’t the most upbeat I have ever shared, but it’s honest. And there’s some hope sprinkled in, because I am essentially an optimist. ;) )

We are about to go into the season of giving. I have already started seeing the charities popping up on the caller ID. I don’t answer the phone because I know I will have to decline.

My sister paid our mortgage for last month. She is an angel, but I have known that forever.  We probably won’t be able to pay this month’s installment until next month.

Ever heard of robbing Peter to pay Paul? Yeah, it’s like that. Who absolutely HAS to be paid, and who will just have to wait their turn.  I’ve been picking up more work with the newspaper (thank you, Tracy) and also sold more of my jewelry and collectibles, and that’s brought in a few hundred dollars, but it all seems like just a drop in the bucket.

On one hand, I am so pleased to finally see progress being made with this arm and wrist of mine. I got an injection in my wrist yesterday and go back in two weeks. Dr. Chavan is happy to see improvement, but neither of us believes I am where I need to be yet.  I WILL get there, even if it takes being sent to the “wrist man” for surgery.  I’ve been fighting with this since May, close to six months, and I am finally seeing a light at the end of the tunnel. For that, I am deeply grateful.

On the other hand, the co-pays are eating us alive. And I feel guilty about it. Guilty that my husband is falling asleep at his desk at work because he can’t sleep at night. I hate seeing him looking so tired. Normally a stoic kind of guy, Benny actually admitting how bushed he is indicates to me he really is desperately in need of a break, and in more ways than one.

And I am desperately tired myself; the Chronic Fatigue is hammering me, on top of the FMS, all exacerbated by the tendon and ligament damage on my left side.  It’s one day, one hour, sometimes one minute at a time. I do pretty well putting on a game face for local friends and acquaintances, but underneath it all . . . sometimes I want to curl up with my blue fleece throw and have a good old cry.

 

So I really needed this quote I found on Pinterest today, a reminder that the small and seemingly insignificant things I can actually do, that any of us can do, make a difference. They count; they matter. I may not be able to donate to worthy causes or participate in some events because of my lack of funds and/or my physical limitations, but I can still find enjoyment and purpose and do good for others in my own way. I don’t know, maybe some of you need to be reminded, too . . .

 

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And seeing all the beauty and humor and sweet humanity in this face doesn’t hurt either.

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Obla-dee, obla-dah, life goes on, brah . . .

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Yes, I am still here, just dealing with a lot of Real Life Stuff, health-wise, money-wise, etc.  I did escape (complete with my big clunky purple cast) for a few days to our beautiful Gulf Coast, the so-called “Redneck Riviera” ;) to spend time with my two sisters and sort of celebrate all our birthdays together.

Never mind they are in three separate months–September, August and January–celebrate when and where you can, that’s our motto.

 

It was the first time we had been together in–what, over a year? Haven’t been to the beach in close to two years. Way too long. Sara was her usual gracious self and prepared wonderful food–the Omaha Steaks filet mignon was to die for–while Tony took us out for a couple of memorable meals of Gulf Coast seafood and southern sides. Deb had to cut up my food for me, but I managed not to make too much of a mess. ;) OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA My sisters Deb and Sara on the balcony of Sara’s Orange Beach condo.  I never fail to marvel at the sunrises and sunsets when I am down there.  Below, Sara sporting the Alabama monogrammed cuff and scarf I gave her as part of her birthday and wearing a shirt from Deb in anticipation of Crimson Tide Game Day; the palms in front of the Phoenix VIII silhouetted against the sky and Sara and her “little” sister, who now towers over her.  And there’s the adorable Hannah, my sister’s sweet, sweet little dog.    OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA   OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA   OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA   51cbf09a_o Little things mean a lot, and there are so many things we simply take for granted. I didn’t realize how long it have been since I had enjoyed a refreshing glass of juice until we had the orange-pineapple kind for breakfast on a couple of mornings. My gosh, but that juice was good! I really savored it. That’s one of things that has fallen off our grocery list of late. Too many medical co-pays, too little money, just can’t make it stretch far enough. Some of you know how it goes.

As far as my health issues, the cast is off and the forearm has definitely improved by resting the tendon through forced immobility, just as Chavan hoped. Hooray! However, the wrist is still problematic and I am not dismissing scoping surgery of the wrist in the future. (Come to think of it, my entire body is problematic. I feel like that old fixer-upper in the neighborhood: I’m full of character and a certain charm, but I definitely needs lot of work.  Caveat emptor.)

We worked last weekend covering a homecoming dance for PRP and an attack of sciatica nearly did me in. But I survived, as always. I just pay for it over the next several days. C’est la vie. Keeping fingers crossed that everything goes well with tomorrow morning’s assignment for the newspaper.  I need the bucks, whenever and however I can make them–within reason, of course. And due to the cast, I am seriously behind on some of my projects.  On those all-too-frequent days when I feel overly stressed and bummed out in general, I close my eyes and remember this: OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA And this. OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA And also this. OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA   P9195505   OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA The sugary white sands of Orange Beach, Ala., and the ever-changing blues and greens (not to mention pinks and oranges) of sky and sea. All photos, save the one of Sara and me taken by Deb, are my own. 

 

I’ve got a soft, beautiful cat on my lap, and new books to read and escape into,  thanks to Sara’s generous gift of an Amazon card; the birthday cash from Deb helped buy groceries and gas. I have a darling husband who can always make me laugh even when I am low, and two sisters who love and support me in various ways.  I’m not where I want to be, exactly, in life, but I am trying to make the best of where I am with what I have.   31186d5f9b8d386572e9c22701f29d64 I think this guy would approve (he tends to make me feel better, too, BTW.  Edit by Fernanda Matias).  6a735308b1b03cd89f2f588348135454

Thorin artwork found on Pinterest . . . where My Lady of the Purple Cast oft resides

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Having only one good hand and one that is not your dominant hand somewhat restricts a blogger’s activities. So I am catching up on the documentary on the Roosevelts I’ve been DVRing and perusing Pinterest and the hundreds of boards I follow there. Here is some nice Thorin fanart I found . . . tomorrow I get the treatment at the hair salon & Friday leave with my oldest sister to go down to spend a few days with our other sister at the beach before my birthday next week.AEGILEIF
by Aegilief (look at that smile . . .)

 

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By Sceith

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03ae91784d8ade16acd1b0b5d8fbf798The two pieces above are by one of our favorites, evankart.

 

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By Nadine-Thome

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By Smut-Slut–a twist on Game of Thrones

 

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Unknown artist

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By Hecate in Nightmare

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By Princess Xexhania-Prince Thorin  (yes, I think it looks very similar to evankart, but it isn’t).

I can only call this moving: Richard Armitage’s Twitter conversation, September 12th

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fedoralady:

ICYMI Richard’s tweet Q and A today.

Originally posted on Me + Richard Armitage:

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Tsk, tsk. You just gave yourself away, “A.”

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This comment from “Fiona” showed up in moderation yesterday for my “In Case You’re Curious . . . here’s Miss Capper.”  (Click on link at bottom of post to read post.)

Now I know a troll when I see one, so it was moved to spam.

The reason he has no girlfriend and is never seen with a woman is because he’s gay. I thought everyone knew that by now?

And then today this one appeared from “A.”

I see the gay comment was deleted. You people are delusional if you think he’s into women. He’s in a relationship with Lee Pace. They are seen everywhere together and they’ve stopped hiding it. Good for them!

Also sent to spam.

How many of us think that Fiona and A are one and the same person, the same individual, who, with a few flunkies, has been trolling RA and his fans on Twitter and blogs ad nauseum in recent months?

Did you think I didn’t post your comment  because I was a coward who wouldn’t face “facts?” Nope, it’s because I don’t believe in kowtowing to trolls. I’m a big girl with a big purple cast on my arm and not in mood to play your games.

Who is truly delusional–the fan who loved, admires and accepts the brilliant, beautiful, kind, generous and amazing Richard Armitage no matter what his preferences, sexual or otherwise, may be, or the individual who feels the constant compulsion to troll RA-related sites trying to promote his or her own agenda at all costs . . . hmmmmm.

I know which one I would pick. ;)

Judit’s ‘Crucible’ Odyssey Part Three: First Impressions of RA on Stage, Stage Door

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Our dearest Judit has returned with the third installment of her Crucible journey, having filled us in on getting prepared and picking the gifts for our beloved Mr. A in her earlier posts. Now to her candid impressions of that first performance (out of three attended) and feeling her own nervous jitters! Thank you, darling Judit, I know you’ve been both busy and fighting some health issues of your own. *hugs*

JUNE 27~AT LONG LAST . . .

The big day dawned and I wasn’t feeling well at all. I’d been having some tummy problems in the week leading up to my trip so I was still on a diet, and the fact that I was very nervous didn’t help matters at all.
Thankfully, I arranged to meet two Twitter friends, Armitagina and BatSpeaks who were also attending the play that evening. I met up with the ladies at around 5 p.m., we had a lovely chat at a pub near the Old Vic, and I even managed to eat a bit of pita bread with hummus!
We then had our picture taken by a kind passerby, here it is:
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(Armitagina, Bat Speaks and myself)

Now I normally hate pictures of myself, but this one is an exception! We all look very happy and excited.
This was the first viewing of the play for all three of us, and I hope the girls won’t mind me saying that when we entered the auditorium they were freaking out a bit and I was still somewhat in denial that I was going to see Richard perform live . . .


A Room with (Not Such a Great) View

We weren’t sitting together as we all purchased our tickets separately. The girls were sitting on the side of the stage facing the trap door, and I was sitting in 2nd row on the opposite side. As it turned out, 2nd row seats aren’t the best as they are on the same level as 1st row. Additionally, I had the misfortune of having a rather generously built lady with big and I mean BIG hair sitting right in front of me.

I had a lovely, friendly middle-aged couple sitting to the left (in spite of the Daily Mail reviewer trying to make out as if the audience were made up of 90 percent women – aka fangurls – all there to drool over RA, it wasn’t).

Right before the play started I remembered that I was a „woman on a mission”- I promised to get programmes for quite a number of friends around the world, so I decided I might as well start right then- I bought five programmes from one of the ushers standing by the stage. I felt that I needed to give the guy an explanation for getting so many copies, so I told him they were presents for friends. He just smiled and said „You’re going to have to read ALL of them!”

I returned to my seat trying to hold the programmes in such a way that nobody would notice I had so many, as I was afraid people might think I’m a lunatic. ;)

It was only the sixth performance in the run and back then the stage was set with a chair for each character and a pair of boots were placed in front of every character’s chair. Needless to say I instantly spotted which pair of boots belonged to Proctor. His chair was right in the middle of the round stage.

When the actors slowly walked in, I had the strangest of reactions–I almost didn’t dare to look up at Proctor/Richard! I thought if I did, my eyes were going to be glued only to him. Instead I just timidly glanced up at him every now and then. I remember feeling extremely anxious for him, in the silliest of ways–what if he forgets his lines, what if he falls over when he’s putting his boots on, and so forth.

I quite liked this „silent introduction” –the cast slowly walking to their chairs and putting their boots on. To paraphrase a friend on Twitter, it was as if by walking in barefoot and then putting on their shoes on stage, they sort of „stepped into character.” It was a lovely way to set the atmosphere. However, there had already been a lot of complaints from audience members about the running time of the play by then, so I can understand why this introduction was cut.

Too Tense to Take it All In?

I learned from my tennis fan days (oh those blessed late 90s!) that when you are watching a match featuring a player that you’re too emotionally invested in, you kind of lose your „spectator” status. You become too involved, which makes it almost impossible to stay impartial. You can’t just sit back and enjoy the performance. Something similar happened to me during that first viewing of The Crucible. I was holding onto my little backpack for dear life all the way through the first part, and didn’t even realize I was doing it until it was over!

Maybe it had to something to do with my overly tense and anxious state, or the restricted view from my seat, but I wasn’t really sure whether or not I really liked Richard’s performance in his first few scenes. I felt as if he was still somehow searching for the character’s „identity”. I saw an amalgamation of mainly Thorin, Thornton and even Guy but I didn’t feel like I really „met” Proctor until his first scene with Elizabeth.
Now He’s Got IT!

He was about to finish washing himself (by the way, all I could see was his back…) When his wife walked in and then he said his first line („I were planting far out to the forest edge” ) very quietly, and he sounded so…natural. He really did sound like a bone-weary, tired man talking to his wife. Up to that point I felt he was a bit „declamatory”,a bit too forceful, putting unnecessary stress/emphasis on too many words. But at that moment, I thought „That’s IT! Finally. There is Proctor.” From that point onwards, his performance was getting better and better.

I have two overwhelming memories from that first night: funnily enough, the first is the smell of Elizabeth’s „rabbit” stew lingering in the air all the way through the second part of the play. I loved the fact that they actually had real food on stage–-it added a touch of realism. I didn’t know at the time that all the confessions, warrants and so forth are properly written too–had I known, I might have tried to grab a piece of one of those!
Second, I remember a feeling of deep frustration as a result of sitting on the „less favoured” side of the stage. I haven’t seen a play in this kind of setting before and it certainly has many advantages as people have pointed out. However, there are some definite drawbacks to this configuration as well.

I had the impression that the side facing the trap door was heavily favoured which meant that in the majority of the key scenes Richard had his back to me, and I was almost screaming internally „ I want to see his FAAACE!!” When I met Armitagina and BatSpeaks during the interval they were full to the brim with enthusiasm about the performance and I wished I could have shared that feeling but instead I was thinking, „Yeah, it’s all great but NOW I WANT TO SEE THE OTHER HALF of the story!!!”

Learning as a Stage Door Newbie

Stage door that night: as a SD „newbie” I wasn’t aware of the side exit that offers you a sort of short-cut to the stage door, so I left the building through the main exit. That meant that by the time I reached the queue, it was already quite long. Luckily my two companions had secured a spot in the front of the queue so I was able to join them.

Sadly, BatSpeaks had to leave early due to a prior engagement, so only Armitagina and I remained. Eventually, Richard came out and I had yet another inexplicable reaction–I was overcome with shyness and so I couldn’t make myself look at him properly. I sort of stole half-glances in his direction again. He signed Armitagina’s copy of The Crucible (said, „Oh you have the book, well done!”).

I gave him the letter from one of my Italian twitter friends and fellow RA fan, explaining that a friend of mine asked me to hand this to him. He seemed really pleased and even surprised by it (as in, “Someone has written me a letter??” And „Wow, this one here didn’t want me to sign anything!”), thanked me profusely and put the letter in a gift bag that the darling security guy was holding for him. Then he proceeded to put his arm around us for a photo (one of the ladies behind us in the queue was kind enough to offer to take a picture)–but it didn’t come out, unfortunately. :(

All the way through this short encounter I felt that Richard was present in body, but not in spirit. He was perfectly friendly and his soulful, kind, warm voice melted my insides, but I still felt as he was miles away. Also, I was surprised by how small he seemed at SD compared to how huge he looked on that relatively small stage in Act One. However, Proctor completely „shrinks” as if his legs are about to buckle under the weight they have to carry, his shoulders becoming hunched towards the end of the play. RA still had this „broken man” posture going on at the stage door.

While I felt he was moving on autopilot, he really did take his time with everybody at the stage door that evening. For starters, he was staying put in one spot under the yellow SD light and people in the queue were coming up to him as opposed to him racing down the line. I suppose he was still working out his „Stage dooring” method at the time!

To be continued . . . two more performances to enjoy!

And I shall be an old(ish) woman and wear (a) purple (cast) . . .

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So I went to the humane society meeting today and then to get the results of my MRI. And guess what? I got myself this purty purple cast. Just screams “Par-tay,” doesn’t it?

But wait, there’s more! Things were slightly chaotic at the clinic this afternoon–they were down one nurse, and the sink in the cast room suddenly erupted into a geyser–so there seems to have been a miscommunication before the nurse brought all the supplies to my room to fix me up. My wrist cast is going to turn into an over-the-elbow cast tomorrow (and possibly be completely redone to put everything in a different position).

Needless to say, my MRI showed issues–lots of inflammation in my wrist and hand, with torn ligaments causing said swelling. Thus the need for the cast (to wear a month). After that. I will likely need an injection in my wrist, and if this doesn’t do the trick, there’s arthroscopy in my future.

I am oddly OK with all this. I have been experiencing burning, stabbing pain and swelling for three to four months, limiting types and duration of activities; it’s about dang time to actually treat the problem.

And maybe I am still happy knowing that later this year I should have the chance to actually see “The Crucible”–I haven’t mentioned that yet here, but yes, very happy and excited to know the rest of us have a chance to experience RA’s great performance. I know it’s not going to be the same as being there live, but listen, I will take what I can get!

Once I get that longer cast on, not sure how much posting I will be able to do, so doing as much as I can tonight. Stay well, be happy and if you get stuck with the first cast of your life–make it colorful! ;)

Holy cow. Thank you, Ms. Dunn.

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Amazing how one image can change your mood. Not that mine was bad on Blue Monday. My infected ear is improving.  Wednesday I get the results from the wrist MRI. I’ve had happy Mommy/Kitty bonding time with Scarlett. And it appears I will get to participate in Girls’ Time at the Beach with my sisters later this month.

And then on top of all that–THIS. Courtesy of Sarah Dunn Photography. 17b0395af3cd9ef41af0fb396993a2f5

I mean. The boyish nape curls. The manly stubble. The crinkles. The GRIN with the flash of those perfect white teeth.  That devilish sidelong glance. The very snug-fitting clothing. Don’t know how comfortable you were in that shirt and slacks, Mr. A, but may I say, all your masculine curves were–uhm–showcased in a most attractive way. Oh, and the hands.  Even some thumb action for Servetus.

 

I still can’t hear too well out of my left ear, but oh, how grateful I am my eyes are working reasonably well these days . . . yowsa.

Dodgy ear, Doctor Who and–Robin Hood? (Where’s Sir GUY??)

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Ever had an outer ear infection, also known as swimmer’s ear?

If not, count your blessings.  Boys and girls, it ain’t no fun.

Thank goodness for the Saturday morning clinic hours in town. After two miserable nights and a never-ending day, I was actually looking forward to another medical appointment. Considering I’ve seen four different doctors in two cities plus all the dratted tests and bloody co-pays that accompany them over the last few weeks, I was obviously desperate.

I got to see a doc, who took one good look inside my swollen left ear with the otoscope and prescribed some antibiotic drops. The doctor appeared to be all of 14, but I was charmed by his lilting accent (Caribbean, I think) and lovely manners. And the drops have already given me a little relief. Hooray!

Because the pain and swelling extend down into my jaw and teeth,  eating isn’t easy. Banana for breakfast, cheese puffs (cheese-flavored air) for lunch, and grits and soft scrambled eggs for supper, courtesy of my lovely husband.  He really IS lovely, with his tousled curls (in need of a haircut again) and those kind blue eyes. I am a sucker for a tall man with kind eyes, a deep voice and a great head of hair.

I’ve slept a little, off and on, perused Pinterest (so many intriguing images and helpful hints, and it doesn’t overtax my addled brain) and now I am watching Doctor Who, with Clara and the Doctor in–well, what do you know?–Sherwood Forest!

It’s all quite good fun. Love it when the Doctor ends up in a highly competitive archery contest with Robin and finally (“Oh, this is getting SILLY!”) blasts the target with his sonic screwdriver and blows it to Kingdom Come.  And later DW says, “Oh SHUT it, Hoodie.” How many times did I not want to tell the one in the BBC 2006 version to do the same . . . *evil little laugh*

If only this chap would make an appearance. *sigh*

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Yes, Sir Guy, you certainly DO. (Would love to see RA make a guest appearance on Doctor Who . . . if I can’t have him as the Doctor himself, of course.)

The year of the empty box. [comments closed]

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When I was in elementary school, we would prepare a shoe box each February as a repository for valentines from our classmates. The year I was in the fourth grade, I thought I had the most beautiful box in the classroom. Mama had given me a piece of leftover red velvet from a Christmas dress. I used it to wrap the box itself; the lid I covered in tin foil which I embossed with hearts and flower designs. It made me smile just to think of it.

I took it to school the day of our party, proud of my lovely crimson and silver box, filled with valentines I had laboriously addressed to all my classmates. We were given time to distribute the little white envelopes into everyone’s valentine boxes. Now it was time to enjoy refreshments and sift through the greetings.

Lifting the gleaming lid of my box, I blinked. I felt the color drain from my already pale face.

It was empty. I hadn’t received a single solitary valentine. As my classmates chattered and laughed and “oohed” and “aahed” over their stashes, I sat wordless, wishing I could simply sink down and be swallowed up by the classroom floor.  I felt–invisible.

When I got home, I shoved the box into the back of the closet. What had brought me such pleasure earlier now caused only pain. It made me cry just to think about it.

As truly, genuinely happy as I am for those in our fandom who have seen/will see Richard perform live on stage this summer, it’s also been hard. I keep feeling like the girl who got left out, left behind, forgotten.

I am not saying what I feel is right, logical or reasonable, or that it’s the way anyone else feels–it’s just the way it is for me.

That box is once again empty, and it turns out that still hurts, even after more than 40 years.

A troll by any other name . . . or, why do YOU care enough to comment?

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A comment I found in moderation tonight from a long-ago birthday post for RA.  Posted by a “Jane”  . . . no matter what name these trolls go by, it remains the same old mean-spirited, sophomoric attack on what was meant to be a respectful, sincere post about Margaret Armitage and her son on the occasion of his birthday:

“OMG!. You have serious problems if you actually have the time or inclination to write such a letter about two people you never met. Do you think either of them care what you think? Do you not realise that the legion of bored housewives are actually hurting his career hence his failure in hollywood.
It is totally inappropiate for any group of women to make comments about an actor and his relationship with his mother.
It is weird and creepy – GET A LIFE!!!
PS. Richard is not middle aged at 44.”

 Hmmmm . . . maybe Troll Jane needs to “get a life!!!” and stop bullying others online.  Unhappy, bitter souls often want to take others down with them.

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Awww, come on, Richard. We KNOW Thorin has his cuddly side.

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d01dfb5d93127e811f6a3184bf6d85d7A tweet posted by Mr. A of the “Plush Thorin” doll. In spite of RA’s words to the contrary, I can attest that Plush Thorin is, in fact, quite cuddly and absolutely adorable. And yes, he’s pretty fierce with those angry blue eyes! Just can’t resist that intensity. *sigh* Sure, he can kick ass. But there’s that vulnerable side you just want to *cough* take to your bosom.

Both I and my late, great three-legged tuxedo cat, Thumper, found Plush Thorin to be, like the ChaRActer he is modeled after, completely irresistible.  Just take a gander . . . a couple of pix from 2012.

 

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Hey, Richard, there’s nothing in the rule book that says you can’t kick ass and be cuddly. Just sayin’ . . . ;)