I object(ify) … a new kind of Flipper

Well, American Horror Story has returned with Ryan Murphy and Brad Falchuck’s Season 4 iteration: Freak Show. The ninety minute premiere – which I have already watched twice – did not disappoint. Ryan Murphy is my spiritual Doppelganger, as I have stated before [CLICK HERE for past AHS/RYAN MURPHY blog: American Horror Story: Coven -The End] and another freaky (excuse me) mind-fuck-link-connection happened last night with his conjoined twins/Tod Browning’s Freaks obsession. And, holy shit, when Jessica Lange floated onto the stage looking like a crack-addled Marlene Deitrich and started singing Is There Life on Mars, I lost it. Look:

I spent YEARS of my youth wailing along to Barbra Streisand albums (and they were albums – and eight-tracks – that’s how far removed is my youth) and her over-thinking of Bowie’s Life on Mars was one of my hyperbolic, bedroom-mirror, over-acting top ten hits. Oh Ryan, did you break into my storage unit and steal all of the journals and poetry-collections I wrote during my teens and twenties?

And now? You checking out my fantasies? Because, wow, Evan Peters getting even hotter this year, and playing Lobster Boy: a man with flippers for hands. Flippers he uses as faux-penis to get off bored housewives at  – uhm – Flipper-ware parties? I am – again – obsessed.

Evan Peters

And because there can never be enough of him:

Evan Peters Coven 4Evan Peters Coven

I’d re-cap last night’s episode, but, why? Enough other people do and I could give a shit about the details of the plot. Don’t worry about the plot, people. Immerse yourselves in the experience.

And because I’m objectifying today, uhm, Russell Tovey filming season 2 of Looking. Looking, indeed:

Tovey, bridge

And, because as with Evan, there can never be enough Russell, here:

Tovey, CALVINS

Hot guys. Out of my league. Sorry A.B.C., but it’s true and I’m not going to lie about it just to convince you I’ve gotten self-esteem – there’s self-esteem and there’s being delusional. Speaking of which, tonight is Shonda Rhimes night and on Scandal, uhm, Cyrus was approached last week by a sex-worker who he delusionally, at first, thought might be interested in him. Look at this guy:

cyrus sex worker

PLEASE. Cyrus – no matter how fucked up and grieving he may be – Cyrus is a political operative. When someone that much better looking than he is, so far out of his league, comes at him – he would DEFINITELY know it was some sort of set-up. Please. Fading old men are NOT approached by hot, hard-bodied, younger – did I say HOT – guys unless those guys have an agenda. And believe me, I know from agendas. I have been agenda-ed until I couldn’t take a breath without the pain of a broken heart-spirit-ego, so, yeah. Stop it Cyrus. And Shonda. (Interesting yet somehow tragic note on my life: above pictured Scandal younger-guy-sex-worker is one of the OLD men on MTV’s Teen Wolf, which I regularly watch to lust after the YOUNG men. Oh, Charles.)

Speaking of old and young and such, have to run. It’s “cart-around-my-amazing-Mom” day. Did I mention that working title for my short-story is Tricks My Mother Gave Me or Tricks My Mother Taught Me? Not going into details, just want everyone (that means YOU A.B.C.) to know I am, in fact, editing and writing – and, obviously, BLOGGING.

And, BAM, less than 600 words.

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