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A poem by Francesco Marciuliano (author of  “I Could Pee on This & Other Poems by Cats”).  I dedicate this post to Leigh and Lucky, aka the Pirate King and to all the feline lovers out there. If only I had this much energy!


GET THE (deleted) OUT OF HERE, THIS STRING IS GREAT!Cute-Kitten-kittens-16096139-1280-800

SON OF A (removed), I CAN RUN SO FAST!




WELL (forbidden) ME, I’M CAUGHT IN A JAR.









Because it’s so funny and so true.


When you’re down and troubled and you need a helping hand,

and nothing, oh nothing is going right,

close your eyes and think of me and soon I will be there

to brighten up even your darkest night . . .

If the sky above you should turn dark and full of clouds

and that old north wind should begin to blow,

Keep your head together and call my name out loud

Soon you’ll hear me knocking at your door  . . .  From “You’ve Got a Friend” by Carole King

Friends allow us to multiply our joys and divide our sorrows. They offer a listening ear and a shoulder to lean on and, if ncessary, to cry upon.  Love–and friendship–covers a multitude of sins.  A friend is someone with whom we can be ourselves without fear of judgement, without the need to walk on eggshells in their presence. A friend loves us because of our strengths and in spite of our weaknesses.  Friends can be found within our families and our neighborhoods; they can also live on the other side of the country or the world.

Never feel you must limit your pool of friends to those in or of the same age group, social background, nationality, religion or creed.  The common ground we can discover within one another can be astonishing.

A true, steadfast friend is a treasure, a blessing and a delight. Ain’t it good to know you’ve got a friend?

You’ve got a friend. Ain’t it good to know?


Beautiful photo manip of Sir Guy in his black leather glory by Karima.

This poem is from Maid Marian’s POV. In spite of her assurances to Robin it is otherwise, she is, in fact, more than a little curious and stirred by Guy. She finds herself imagining what the master-at-arms is like beneath all that black leather . . .

Beneath the Leather

What lies beneath the leather?
She had often wondered
Beneath his buttery-soft black armor;
Beneath his second skin . . .

Strong arms to embrace her,
Capable hands to cup her face?
Broad chest to touch, to kiss,
To lie against in the velvet black night?

Sinuous legs to wrap round her,
Strong thighs to claim her as their own,
That hidden part so unknown to a maiden,
Ready to enter her, to join them as one . . .

What would she find, she wondered,
If he shed his leather shield,
And came to her, naked and ready,
To make her a maiden no more.

What lies beneath the leather?
She had often wondered,
Beneath his buttery-soft black armor,
Beneath his second skin . . .

Don’t forget, Fastrav3 continues!

Oh, what the heck, more Sir Guy. “Beneath the Leather”


I do not want to leave out fine actresses of a certain age whom I would love to see in a film with Richard. No, not necessarily in a romantic way; but I am sure plenty of other women of a certain age wouldn’t mind the tables being turned for once.  😉   After all, leading men are all too often decades older than their co-stars . . .  what I am truly interested in is the intelligence, wisdom and class these ladies bring to a project.

Helen Mirren, a glorious dame who has played both Queen Elizabeths.

Dame Judi Dench, who has played everything from the sitcoms to M.

These ladies are all great talents who are aging gracefully (i.e.,  without loads of plastic surgery) and I love reading/seeing their interviews.  Like RA, they are all true class acts.

Most recently "The Iron Lady" and Queen of Accents, Meryl Streep.

Let’s hear it for the dames (and iron ladies) . . .


Glamour Guy is back beautifully turned out and wearing an attractive little smug.

I think my computer just caught fire.

No one needs to teach Sir Guy how to smoulder. He's already earned an A.

Smugly confident, Sir Guy makes one fine-looking dark knight.

One of my all-time fav Sir Guy poses, this combines a smirk with a very smug attitude. "Yeah, baby, I'm hot and I know it."

( Author’s Note: Obviously I am not getting enough sleep. I put this together late last night but never actually published it. Well, tante mieux que jamais!)

So many “s” words work when describing the multi-faceted Sir Guy of Gisborne. Sexy, sensual, seductive, swaggering, slinking, scowling, snarling, screaming, surly, suspicious, sly,sarcastic, even sweet at times. But we’ll just focus on three for this photo essay on our ever-expressive Sir Guy. Tomorrow–Strike Back Saturday (John Portah, another SND hero).

One more for Guyday Friday: Smirking, smouldering, smug


(I wrote this as a salute to the effect he had on me and quite a few others after seeing and hearing Mr. A at last year’s Hobbit press conference ~)

There are some who eschew guys who pass up a razor,
Preferring a clean-shaven face.
As for me, I don’t agree.

I don’t think it’s so weird to fancy a gent with a beard;
Facial hair—oooh, that air of masculinity!
That alpha maleness lurking in the vicinity
Of a handsome hirsute face
makes one’s heart quicken its pace . . .
(Downy-cheeked lads just lack a certain—virility.)

And when the beard that’s sprouting out
Graces not some average lout
But Our Man who outshines all the rest of ‘em. . .
Hip, hip hooray! Oh, glorious day!
Mr. A, you rock that beard, I have to say.

When we first caught a glimpse of The Hirsuteness
Bearded Beauty extraordinaire,
what gorgeousness was there!
What a sexy, sexy beast we saw in you, my dearest Armitage . . .

At that table you dominated,
For your words our breath was bated,
as we waited, anticipated the Bearded Beaut.
(You sexy brut!)

Still, just watching gave us pleasure—
The Little Black Shirt encased our Biceped Treasure
Sitting so still and so attentive as others chattered.

And when your question came,
(darling girl, why a query so—lame??)
Sexy Rich, you did not disappoint us.
Deep blue eyes flashed ‘neath bold brows
Deep, dark voice, tinged with a growl!
White teeth gleamed–that wolfish smile–
Crinkled brow, that teasing style—
Hearts palpitated for quite a while . . .

The Bearded Beaut, a bit flirtatious,
a bit sarcastic, a little dang’rous,
You proved your point, proved it so well—
Such gravitas! Such—regal-ness—

You owned the room,
You wowed the geeks! They must confess . . .
That PJ’s Pick has the finesse
To strut his stuff (OMG, you’re really BUFF! But I digress . . .)

As alpha dwarf, you’ll reign supreme!
The finest dwarf Middle-Earth’s ever seen.
O Bearded One, you I adore,
And when you shave that chin once more
And bid farewell to your lovely beard,
Some will likely feel a little blue, ‘tis true,
For the beard has grown on us,
As well as you.
(But it looks better on you . . .)

(photos/screencaps courtesy of RANet)

More RA Poetry: The Bearded Beauty


The dwarf of my dreams.

(images from RANet)

Dear Thorin,

I must tell you that I can hardly wait until you hit the big screen in December. The tantalizing peeks that we have received through the video logs and trailer and photos so far leave me yearning for more. Sir Peter is one very canny guy. He certainly knows how to dangle the carrot, doesn’t he?

I was already quite entranced with the look of you and what does Sir Peter and company do? Put together a trailer which introduces you to the audience, this handsome, proud figure sitting so regally on that saddle. And then we heard you sing and speak in that deep, honeyed baritone. What a commanding and charismatic screen presence you are!

I have to tell you I normally go for–somewhat taller males. With less hair. Who are of same species.

But for you, O King Under the Mountain, I shall happily make an exception. Suddenly a four foot hirsute dwarf is the guy of my dreams. I imagine combing that mane of hair, plaiting your braids, trimming your beard for you. Keeping Orcrist polished.
I am at an age when I really shouldn’t want to rush things along, and yet–I really, really can’t wait for you to arrive in theaters and win the hearts of many, many audience members.

You already have mine.

Your ardent admirer,


A fan letter to Thorin


Miss Lee in a hat. I dig it.

She gave us fever.

A few months ago, I decided to make a Guy video using Peggy Lee’s version of Fever. In the midst of working on it, I discovered, or re-discovered in some cases, several of Miss Lee’s wonderful performances. For a North Dakota girl of Scandinavian descent, the lady could certainly sing the blues–and the jazz. She also was fond of hats, it seems.

I ended up going on to use several more of her songs for RA-related vids. I fear I make Carla cry with some of my selections, but this one set to Fever surely makes her smile. 😀 And thank you, Miss Lee, for making such terrific music. You were a class act, just like a certain TDHBEW.

(photos Getty images)

Sir Guy & Miss Lee: They Give Me Fever


Angsty Guy, you made me want to do bad things to you--and give you a nice shampoo and scrub.

Ah, those fetching curls at the nape . . . so touchable.

Floppy raven locks paired with a sexy smirk and those eyes. Irresistible.

Guy, sporting his longish tresses and those hot sideburns . . .

Glamour Guy--fresh from PJ's Red Door Salon and Spa. A stunner!

(screencaps courtesy of RANet)

Sir Guy: The Rightful Hair

A lighthearted little homage to Sir Guy’s tresses . . .

Sir Guy, dear Guy, I love your hair;
Sometimes it seems to be unfair
For the villain of the piece to be so blessed
While the hero is rather—scantily–tressed.

Oh, some may jest at your mullet medieval
with its cluster of lush raven curls;
Or at your floppy Guy locks
their derisive, dismissive howls, hurl . . .

But surely none can deny the power of the Angsty Guy Mane
Those long, unkempt jetty locks, so wild and untamed,
Never have lank and greasy been quite so—fetching,
And the glory of Glamour Guy—aah, makes our hearts sing!

Oh, yes, you work it, that amazing mane,
First as a curtain to hide your deep shame,
Then as an arrogant, proud dark stallion stamping its feet;
Is it any wonder watching you, I always feel such—heat?

And meanwhile, your nemesis, what of he?
His receding hairline, we now clearly see.
Sweaty combat reveals his balding pate,
Makes us understand why you he hates.

For you have the hair, the teeth, the physique;
“But I am the HERO!” he cries in a fit of pique–
And clutched his locks in full-blown despair,
Oops—watch out! More comb-over needed there.

Guyday Friday: It’s All About the Hair


Surely a man who loves to laugh.

Mine eyes are dazzled. What a grin!

It’s been a dreary winter’s day here in LA (Lower Alabama) following a rainy, painful night. I had to turn the lamp on earlier to have enough light to read. I needed some sunshine.

And I found it.

Richard Armitage–the cure for Seasonal Affectiveness Disorder?

RA: the cure for S.A.D.?


Sir Sean sports a casual vibe in this Louis Vuitton ad.

My first crush on an actor was born in the Ritz Theatre in my hometown when I was five years old. The movie my family went to see was Thunderball, the fourth film in the Bond franchise.

I thought this larger-than-life man with the entrancing foreign accent was pretty cute. And as the years passed, he just got more and more attractive.

Kind of like someone else I know.

My first celebrity crush . . .


A cat so sweet and lovely I wish I could afford to clone her--Callie.

The chocolate, caramel and cream-colored beauty is Callie. The long-haired diva is Puddin’, who has been featured in a couple of my fanfics. These guys gave me a lot of comfort in the first weeks after my car accident. Even now Miss Callie is tucked up against me, purring away. I know everybody isn’t a cat person, but everybody appreciates a friend when in need. 😀 I see Richard as a guy who likes animals, although his lifestyle would make it hard to have a pet. I can envision the Athletic Armitage playing with a dog in the park or going for a jog with the canine on a leash. Introspective Armitage I imagine sprawled out on a big, comfy couch with coffee or a glass of wine and a novel or script, a purring cat at his side. I mean, the man does remind you of a big ol’ feline . . .

Two of my “furry babies” & musings on Armitage as pet owner

For JasRangoon–Green-Eyed Portah for your perusal

Bloodied, bruised, cut, sweaty, disheveled. Still gorgeous with defiance in those eyes.

No man should look so good in camo makeup and a watch cap.

Sgt. John Porter. Brave, heroic, resourceful, unrelenting, tough-as-nails and sexy as hell. And did we mention his eyes? JasRangoon did. We thought we’d share some of those images of a green-eyed Portah. Enjoy!

For JasRangoon–Green-Eyed Portah for your perusal


Errol Flynn as an old-fashioned Robin of Locksley

Claude Rains as PJ with bangs and a colorful Basil Rathbone as Sir Guy.

The 1938 version of Robin Hood demonstrates they did know how to swash their buckles back in the day.
One of the things I appreciate about this version is the fact Gisborne, played by a very suave and attractive Basil Rathbone, is actually shown as a good swordsman. I love the fights between Rathbone and Errol Flynn as Robin and it is clearly them doing the brunt of it, not stunt doubles.

In the BBC RH they always seemed to make Guy look like a numpty with his sword, which seemed rather unlikely given he worked for the sheriff. I can’t see Sherry making him his master-at-arms if he was incompetent, no matter how much the Treacherous Troll enjoyed ogling Guy in his leathers. The numpty in this film is the Sheriff, who comes off as a complete buffoon. Prince John, as played by the ever-dependable Claude Rains, is deliciously nasty.

I admit seeing Errol Flynn in tights made me rather long to see Mr. Armitage in a similar costume–but ditch the little hat with the feather, please. Not that I would want Guy to give up all that buttery soft black leather. But the tights would look fetching.

The 1938 version was shot in glorious technicolor and they pulled out all the stops in the costume department in terms of colors–royal purple, emerald green, bright gold, cherry red, turquoise. You almost feel the need to put your sunglasses on. It is a rousing adventure with lots of action and derring-do, and a vein of humor running throughout. Robin is in a truly heroic mold here. I know the BBC version was supposed to be Robin for a new generation, that each generation has their own interpretation of the legend. Obviously I am hopelessly old-fashioned.
This chick prefers a Robin who isn’t a petulant, smug braggart sporting a boy band haircut and a hoodie. I’m just sayin’ . . . (photos courtesy of Google Images)

Welcome To Sherwood! Robin Hood of 1938