Feelin’ kind of beat up this morning. Being in a hemmed-in situation (via the tethered tripod and knobby-kneed teenager poking me in the back) at Honors Program aggravated my shoulder, knee and back. I am not a woman made for sitting in the bleachers, alas, not even down front, it seems ;) Event took quite a bit longer than expected. Benny took a good look at me when Harry and I got back to dealership and said. “Take a muscle relaxer. We can do without you tonight.” I didn’t argue.
I’ve some other video production-related work to do, not to mention trying to catch up on all your comments, my lovelies, but for now let’s just concentrate on the ravishing creature we celebrate each Friday: the ever-so-thudworthy Sir Guy of Gisborne. The leather! The locks! The eyebrows! The smirk! The Guyliner! It’s all good . . . Sir Guy is fly!
Damn, he does clean up well.
That magnificent masculine ”hooter” sniffs out Eau de Forest Boy . . . poor Guy’s nose.
Ah, yes, Wild-Eyed Drunken Man with a Tangled Dirty Mane. My ovaries don’t work anymore and they still explode. Must. have. him. now.
And on the flip side, there’s that softer, sweeter Guy, with a vulnerability that just gets to me. *wibble*
And sometimes he’s just–scary. You don’t want to be on his bad side. And yet–he still thrills me even when his eyes go ice cold and his voice is edged in danger.
And I totally agree. *thud*
NOT that I need to tell you all that.
Nobody does it better–wouldn’t you agree?
I love a wet Guy. Love, love, love . . .
And when he’s sweaty and disheveled and DIRT-TY.
Life’s unfathomable mysteries. This and why the Kardashians exist.
Still awake. Listening to the crashing waves courtesy of the sound machine. It’s the most realistic of the assorted sounds available, and it is soothing. Almost time for hubs to get up. Might as well wait now and see him off before I try to attempt sleep. Knee still being a (literal) pain, along with the old pleurisy adhesions.
Meanwhile–it’s Guyday Friday! Whoo-hoo! I definitely need you this week, my tall dark and toothsome knight. Not that I don’t every week, every day.
Your intensity, your dogged determination, your passion, the sweet, tender side you rarely show, that vulnerability that still surfaces, that chivalric nature we see regarding your beloved–and yes, that gobsmacking beauty. I will never get over you. But then again, I don’t have to. You ARE So Not Dead.
And I totally agree with both sentiments, Sir Guy.
I will catch up with comments later, I hope you all have a great Guyday Friday wherever you are!
I quite like peacocks. Wouldn’t mind having some out here except the dogs would like not give them any peace. Those gorgeous shades of green and blue, such a feast for the eyes!. Our late, lamented cat Smokie used to sit outside the hall closet door and cry for the large peacock feather (purchased at a cat show we attended) that she knew was tucked away inside there. Fantastic kitty fun!! That pussy loved her peacock plume!
I like peacocks so much I have some peacock-related items on the way:
To give my updos a bit of color, two of these peacock hair clips.
And for those moments when hot flashes hit or it’s simply a sticky summer’s day in south Alabama, how lovely it will be to whip out this pretty, peacock-ish hand fan and cool down in style.
Peacock earrings, for those times I want a bit of bling. All the above not likely to be worn/used at once.
But what, pray tell, do all these things have to do with Sir Guy?
Well, wouldn’t you say our proud, vain, beautiful henchman was just a wee bit of a peacock?
Just as a male peacock would do, Sir Guy likes to present his–er–plumage and show it off for the ladies. He knows what they want to see. And he’s quite proud of it.
In honor of Sir Guy and Guyday Friday, here’s my little tongue-in-cheek captioned fanvid tribute to not just the Hot Velvet Henchman, but several of the CReAtor’s delectable characters.
“Whatcha waiting for, it’s time for you to show it off–
“Come on baby, let me see what you’re hiding underneath. . .”
Whether smug, smirking, or smouldering, disdainful or doubtful, complacent or in complete menace mood–I find you oddly irresistible and infinitely fanciable, Sir Guy. You always wear it well . . .
Such masculine beauty in the midst of all your angst, my beloved dark knight.
As if. They will never learn. Of course, Sir Guy, you DO look very ”come-hither” in your medieval go-go cage. Just sayin’ . . .
Menacing can be really sexy with the right equipment. And he’s got *it.*
Yes, I do believe the CReAtor read for the roles of both Sir Guy and Vasey. No offense, Keith, but I believe Mr. A would have had us even more enthralled with the Dark Side. But then–we’d have missed out on the six feet two inches of black leather-clad bodaciosity known as Sir Guy.
Says it all. Happy Guyday Friday!
When I nibbled on these ears, I wouldn’t feel guilty. Would I start there, or with the handsome toes? Take a sidetrip to the raspberries or the peaches . . . decisions, decisions.
Tousled long hair, Guyliner, crinkled look of consternation. I love it all.
One of those three-quarter views I enjoy so much highlighting Mr. A–and Guy’s–lovely masculine bone structure.
Sir Guy haunting Sherwood Forest? Maybe.
Always feeling this need to calm and soothe Sir Guy’s ruffled feathers . . . if you know what I mean.
Is Sir Guy beautiful here or what? The intent look on that face, the hand in action . . . OK, I know he took the necklace from the bride-to-be in a not-so-nice way, but . . . *guh*
And a little of our hot henchman in non-holiday (or hallucinatory) mode:
I don’t think the title of this post really needs much explanation. We’ll just use some visuals . . .
“Whot . . . no–vertically challenged hirsute would-be king appearing today?” The dark knight drawled, a glint of amusement in his kohl-rimmed blue eyes as he lounged against the door frame.
“It’s Guyday Friday, so I’d say it’s pretty much all about the six feet, two inches of smouldering testosterone-laden medieval gorgeousness,” Ladywriter replied insouciantly, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.
Sir Guy rubbed his aquiline nose and gave a small yet manly sniff. “I wasn’t certain–after all, it seems it’s been Thorin Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday AND Thursday here at the blog, my lady.” There was a note of accusation beneath the sarcasm in the rumbling voice. Did she detect a hint of sadness in those mesmerizing eyes?
Ladywriter wriggled just a little uncomfortably. She had rather wallowed in all things Hobbity and Thorin-y. But with the big DVD release and new featurettes with so much Thorin goodness, wasn’t it only to be expected? Still, Sir Guy could be a little–sensitive at times.
“I promise–lots of Guy art, Guy vids, Guy goodness on the schedule for today.” She smiled and tilted her head. “Along with—strawberry rum cake. Moist and flavorful–with a kick.”
Both eyebrows raised, Sir Guy’s mouth curled into a delighted smirk. “Just for me?”
Sir Guy swiftly came to her side and pressed a hearty kiss to her forehead. Ladywriter released an inner “squee.”
“I’ll wager HE didn’t get a cake . . .” And with a triumphant grin, Sir Guy strutted out, ready to enjoy a large slice of cake with a milk chaser.
Ladywriter smiled to herself. “Only for you, Sir Guy, only for you . . . my first Armitage hero.” She sighed. “And you’ll always be my first ChaRActer love.”