I may have watched a million times…

August 10, 2014 by ·

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I’ve been meaning to post this for a while but it keeps gets pushed aside for more pressing issues like food. Shame on me because Ben Affleck should never be pushed aside for anything or anyone, even food.

So a few weeks ago was San Diego Comic-Con and the trailer for Batman vs. Superman: Dawn of Justice was revealed. And because I’m a total stalker, I obsessively YouTubed the trailer and watched it a million times before it was taken down. Boo…

But back to my post, now while I have nothing to share with all you lovelies other than my insane recount, you’ll just have to trust me on its awesomeness.

I legit gasped, maybe even screamed and flapped my hands in front of my face when BA appeared dressed as the caped crusader.

Let me set the scene: Dark, ominous fog and then a brooding Batman appears dressed in his hot as fuck latex Batsuit, which IMO is way better than the previous ones. He looks fucking huge and muscled and well, so fucking hot, like I wanna lick him hot. OMFG…. I need a cold shower. But yeah, where was I? The trailer… so it’s pouring down rain, yeah now he’s really fucking hot and wet and oh shit fuck… I really need a cold shower. Batman reaches for a lever and the Batsignal lights up the sky and who is hovering in the sky basked in the light of the Batsignal???!!! Superman!!!! Mega hot, Henry Motherfucking Cavill! Sweet baby Jesus save me! I’m never gonna make it through this movie. Thank fuck I have BFF to support me and wail, gasp and cry at the screen right along with me. And PM1 won’t fail me either. And back to the trailer again. So Superman’s heat vision joined with the light from the Batsignal makes the sky looking fucking awesome and then they cut back to Batman. Stop my damn heart, his eyes are glowing this cold steel blue and then it ends with that killer logo. You know the one… if not, check out the post PM1 and I did when I panicked about BA as Batman.

Overall, it was amazing, and everything I’m reading is telling me that there is a possibility they’re going a different route with this one. Making Batman older, and there have been some stills from the set with BA rocking some gray hair, so we’ll have to see how that plays out. I’m all for BA and his gray hair, makes him hotter in that distinguished way. (Who am I kidding? He’s hot no matter what.)

All I know is, next year, look out because I’m heading to Comic-Con. Let the stalking in person begin.

PM2

Filed Under: Beautiful boy, Ben Affleck, Don't judge me, Fuck. Me., Holy shit burgers ·

Food Love + Boycott = You don’t stand a fucking chance

August 9, 2014 by ·

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We have this little sandwich place near our house that we order from once a week, well, if I’m being honest, it’s probably more, but whatever. The sandwiches are good, but they have oatmeal chocolate chip cookies that are fucking unbelievable.

A few weeks ago I ordered dinner using their online ordering system and then left to run some errands before going to pick up the order. I arrived at the store five minutes earlier than my pick up time. No big deal, right? Well, clearly it was a huge fucking deal because a girl with a permanent bitchface greeted (I’m lying here, she basically said fuck off using her face) me at the pick-up counter.

After looking at her watch twice, she then said, “You’re early. Why are you early?” Are you fucking kidding me? You don’t know who you’re fucking with here, Bitchface. My response, “Do you need me to go sit in my car for five minutes and then come back in?”

Of course at the point she says nothing. Just orders some poor teenage kid to get my order ready. After ten minutes, which was now past my pick up time, my order is ready. But not really. They don’t have the fucking oatmeal cookies I ordered. I let it go, despite my obsessive love of cookies. I wasn’t interested in battling with Bitchface anymore.

Flash to a week later. Online order placed, cookies added and once again, I go to pick up my order and Bitchface is there. “We don’t have your cookie,” Bitchface announces as soon as I reach the register. What the fucking fuck!!??? I just look at her as the same teenage boy from before gets my order ready and asks where my cookies are. Bitchface turns around, glares at him and tells him they don’t have any, which prompts him to say, “Well, I put them right here when I was getting the order ready.” Again are you fucking kidding me?? Bitchface sold my fucking cookies before I could there!! The kid hands me my order and apologizes to me, all the while my eyes are staring right at Bitchface.

Glutton for punishment, a week later, I place the same order and head in there to pick it up. NO FUCKING COOKIES AGAIN!!! This time I’m fuming and Bitchface headed for the hills as soon as she saw me come through the door. I’m now dealing with the manager who must be married to Bitchface because he’s just as pleasant…a total fuckwit dickhead. Dickhead tells me he doesn’t have my cookies and my response was, “For the last three Fridays, I’ve ordered dinner from here and for the last three Fridays you haven’t had the cookies I ordered.” (Now, I may have ordered the last three Fridays in a row, but generally I legit order once a week. I’m certain I’m their best customer.)

Dickhead: You should’ve ordered earlier in the day, like at noon. We had them then.

Me: *Laughing* I wasn’t hungry at noon.

Dickhead: The food is on a first come, first serve basis.

Me: *Laughing even louder now* That’s some good business practices you have while running a restaurant. I’d love to see what happened if you ran out of bread since you serve sandwiches.

Dickhead: *Handing me my order minus the cookies* Can I get you anything else?

Me: Just the cookies.

Dickhead: We don’t have them.

Me: Since obviously you sell a lot of them, wouldn’t it be smart to make more, especially seeing as I placed my order an hour ago. That would give you plenty of time to make more.

Dickhead: It’s first come, first serve.

Me: I’m contacting your corporate office.

At this point Dickhead says nothing and Bitchface has now emerged from her hiding in the backroom. I give her a good long stink eye before adding, “By the way, your corporate office is the city I live in so you can guarantee I’m gonna be up their ass.”

I was fuming by the time I got home and Hubs B was just as pissed off about the missing cookies. Between my love of food and Hubs B’s boycotting skills, they’ve lost our business. And I’m certain they spit in my food as soon as my name comes up on their order sheet.

Standby because I sent a scathing email to their corporate office, in which I included a screen shot of a Google map of all the sandwich shops within walking distance of their store. I’m looking forward to their response.

PM2

Filed Under: FFS, Fuck. Me., Mmmm...food, WTF? ·

Naked and Afraid… Oh, hell no

August 8, 2014 by ·

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Sunday was the premier of the most recent season of Naked and Afraid, so what better way to spend a Sunday evening than marathoning the previous season with Hubs B and BFF.

For those of you that have never seen the show, let me break it down for you. Basically it’s where these two fuckwits, I mean survivalists are dropped into jungles and shit and are forced to survive…naked with a partner they’ve never met. They get to bring one survival, like knife or a fire starter, something to help them out and they have to last 21 days. They also give each contestant (I call them this, although there is no prize at the end. Just the gratification of completing this journey…fucking lame.) a PSR rating. A Primitive Survival Rating, which is how likely they are to complete the challenge based on their survivalist experiences. It’s a scale from 0-10 and most of the men are rated somewhere in the 7.5-8.5 area and the women somewhere between 6-7.5. (sexist…) It’s a complete shit show, yet totally addictive.

So, we settle in to watch the premier after watching three consecutive episodes. It wasn’t so much that the episodes were hilarious, it was more about the conversations we had while watching.

I find the people who go on the show fascinating because I have no desire to ever do anything outside, besides sit on the beach. I’m afraid of the dark, I fucking hate bugs, especially moths, I have an aversion to things that are wet, so that rules out anything that deals with rain, I LOVE food and not grubs and weird ass shit caught in a jungle setting (one woman ate the brain from a rotten bird head she found on the beach and then was shocked when she got the shits), I won’t go camping, I despise sleeping on anything but a bed, I don’t like hiking or anything that requires me to climb, seeing as I’m afraid of heights and (I say “and” like the list ends here. Trust me it could go on for days) I’m always cold. So to say the people on this show are out of my realm of reality, is a fucking understatement.

As soon as the episode started BFF, Hubs B and I created our own rating system. FBR and DBR…Fucking Bitch Rating and Douche Bag Rating since the people in the premier were just awful. The female contestant complained non-stop. Um, you fucking chose to go on this fucking show, so stop your bitching. And the male contestant was a smarmy asshole, who found himself far too attractive, like he was a catch or something. At one point claiming to his partner after she was complaining about his douchebagness, “Girls would kill to be trapped with me for 21 days.” Really? Only if they like douche bags with beer guts and receding hairlines.

When the episode started I asked Hubs B what he thought his PSR be. Now I think of Hubs B as pretty badass and resourceful, but his response was, “Um…probably a 3.” Looks like I wouldn’t want to be paired up with him. So then BFF asks me, how likely I would be to survive on the show.

Hilarity ensure from Hubs B and then he says, “I give the two of you together 21 minutes,” which prompts BFF to ask if she could bring pizza as her survival item. I then, interject that we could totes survive longer than 21 minutes, which again has Hubs B laughing hysterically.

Hubs B: You won’t even stay in a hotel that has the doors on the outside.

Me: Um, that’s not a hotel, that’s a fucking motel.

Hubs B: Ok, so please fucking tell me, what type of doomsday scenario would warrant you staying in a motel with with the doors on the outside?

BFF: So if it was either sleep in my car or stay at motel with the doors on the outside, I’d choose the motel.

Me: *Long pause* Um…I don’t know. I really don’t like motels at all. Only hotels.

Hubs B: I’m amending my original estimate. 21 seconds…max.

BFF: I don’t like to hunt for food.

Me: Me either. I don’t even know where pizza lives.

BFF: I love food.

Me: Me too.

BFF: I’d go on the show just to lose 30 pounds.

Me: Great diet.

Hubs B: *Shaking his head* You two are fucking hopeless.

In the end, we established that the people who go on the show are fucking nuts, Hubs B isn’t nearly as badass as I thought and BFF and I would likely survive a few second, unless there was pizza involved. Not too bad.

PM2

Filed Under: FFS, Fuck. Me., LMAO, WTF? ·

House Hunters… you’re assholes

July 27, 2014 by ·

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After watching an episode of House Hunters last night with Hubs B, I came to the conclusion that I really don’t like people. While this is something Hubs B has known about himself for a while, I had just discovered it about myself…well, probably not, but I think I finally admitted it. (Once I asked Hubs B how long he could survive on a deserted island and his response was, “Forever. I hate people.”)

So this young, bougie couple had a budget of basically two nickels rubbed together and list of must-haves that was two miles long.

This is where I blame HGTV. Somewhere along the lines peeps with a minuscule budget believe they are owed a fabulous home with all the upgrades. HGTV has led everyone to believe that your home sucks ass if it doesn’t have some kind of natural stone counter tops, walk in closets, a master bathroom, stainless steel appliances, wood floors and an island kitchen.

Now all of these are lovely additions to a home, yes, but when you have a budget for shag carpet and Formica counters, don’t be let down.

As the episode progressed, the couples became disenchanted with their home choices, whining, “It doesn’t have a master bath or a walk in closet.” Um, listen up you fucktards, first off, the house was built in 1953, second, it’s 1200 square feet and lastly, your budget allows you jack shit.

On the second house, which in my opinion was perfectly acceptable as a starter house, the complaint was, “No island kitchen, no master bath, no walk in closet or stainless steel appliances.” Holy fucking shit! Same argument as before and who the fuck shops for a house wearing five-inch heels and the makeup of a stage performer?? The high maintenance chick and her douche boyfriend, who btw, is a personal trainer. (And can we talk about that another time and how much he thinks he’s amazing?)

By the third house, I had written these asshats off and figured they’d never find the house of their dreams. (And yeah, I know this show is fake, so obviously they do find a house because it’s picked prior to even filming.) I couldn’t stand them and I truly hoped they would live with their parents forever. Stop being so fucking demanding!

In the end, they found their “perfect” home minus all the wonderful upgrades that were so important. Enjoy that wood paneling and linoleum flooring!

Just a note to keep in mind, you assholes…work hard, and when you’re not twenty-three, you’ll actually be entitled to all that high-end shit HGTV has made you believe you desperately need. And, should I ever meet you on the street, look out, because I kinda wanna punch you.

PM2

Filed Under: Fuck. Me., Things that piss us off, WTF? ·

Parents, they’re liars

July 25, 2014 by ·

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Did you ever think you’d so blatantly lie to your children? I didn’t, with exception of Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, the Tooth Fairy, the usual shit, I thought I’d be totally honest with them. Until I realized they’re like dealing with terrorists, there’s no negotiating. So bring on the lies and scare tactics.

While eating dinner tonight, I look over at Mini 1 and notice his eye is kinda red and swollen. (We had just gotten back from the water park which never fails to elicit some kind of gross fungal infection…athlete’s foot, ring worm, pink eye, etc.)
So I say to him that his eye is looking a little red and if it still looks like that in the morning, we should go to the doctor.

Mini 1 gives me the what-the-fuck face and bursts into near hysteria. Fucking carrying on and bitching and moaning about hating the doctor.

Instead of handling this rationally, I tell him his eyeball’s going to fall out. Yeah, so looking back it was pretty fucking OTT, but fuck it, because the whole scenario got funny.

Mini 2 gives me the what-the-fuck face and then turns to Hubs B and asks if it’s true. Hubs B in all his fatherly wisdom agrees with me wholeheartedly, but tries to appease Mini 1 by telling him we’ll get him an eyepatch. While Mini 2 couldn’t give a shit because, well, it’s not his eye and he’s simply less high-strung. (We call him our Mulley and Hubs B legit wanted to name him Mulligan, as in our do-over.)

Mini 1 is still asking how legit this situation is and Hubs B then tells him we’ll also get him a parrot for his shoulder. And in his best pirate accent says, “Arrh, matey, me lost me eye in a water park accident.”

While Mini 2 and I are laughing hysterically, Mini 1 is fucking sobbing. He storms away from the table and up to his room, calling us insensitive and liars.

Truth, kid. But at least you’ll have a thick skin by the time you reach middle school…either that or you’ll end up in therapy.

PM2

Filed Under: Don't judge me, LMAO ·

Professional? My f**king ass

July 25, 2014 by ·

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I’m sure a lot of you have hired professionals to take care of things for you at one time or another. For instance, maybe someone to clean your house, wash your windows, remodel a bathroom, design a website or blog, reroof your house; the list is pretty extensive and could go on for days. But recently I hired someone to take on a job and it went to shit in a matter of seconds.

I hire these people because they are professionals and I’m not. If you need some learning, I’m your girl, but construction, cleaning, blog design, fuck it, that’s not me. (And maybe I’m a little lazy, too.)

So, that brings me to my point, I have a hobby that requires the use of a freelance team of people and I have always been thoroughly satisfied with the people I’ve worked with. For some stupid ass reason, I opted to hire someone I have never worked with before.

It went to fucking hell in a hand basket after the first fucking email. Intuition told me to walk away, but thinking I was jumping the gun on firing someone so quickly, I stuck it out for 30+ fucking emails.

Here’s how it all went down. I hired this person to design something similar to the Girls with Potty Mouth blog, which went so well, I thought; why not give someone else a shot.

I started by filling out the lengthy design form that took almost an hour and I left a few sections blank. I waited and four days later I still hadn’t heard anything. I sent a courtesy email asking if the fucking novel design form I filled out was received. It in fact was and work would begin promptly.

Awesome! But not really…

Promptly meant two weeks later and I had to send two more “courtesy” emails that were becoming far less courtesy than the first. At this time, I received an email asking me to take on a portion of this person’s work, because they were, in fact, running behind in their work schedule. Are you fucking kidding me???No, I won’t do your fucking job because your schedule is full. I shot back a pretty heated email and got a return email explaining how it would help if I took on this portion because it’s my vision. I don’t fucking care! I gave you a few ideas and because you’re the professional I hired, I need you to create something from it.

But, because I needed this work done in a timely manner, I did what was asked. And again, a good length of time went by with no communication. Another courtesy email sent and again another response with far too many questions regarding my design idea. All of the questions were answered in the fucking design form I filled out.

Mentioning this in the email I sent back, I did eventually answer all the fucking questions again. And again the waiting game…

I finally got an email with the finished product!

Yay! But not really…

What the fucking fuck!!!???

Design form filled out, multiple emails exchanged about my “vision” and the fucking finished product is missing everything! Not one single thing I asked to be incorporated was in the design and when I shot back a very professional email, I was confronted with the same questions from the design form and the multiple emails, being asked for the millionth fucking time!

Learn to fucking read! I hate hand holding, I hate giving direction and I fucking hate people who can’t perform their job without someone giving them constant feedback.

By this point, I was done. Just fucking done. Enlisting the help of PM1 because I was so fucking pissed, she promptly fired her for me. (PM1 and I were working on this project together, btw.)

Lesson learned, cheap isn’t always better, hand-holding is for teenagers in love, not professionals, and when someone misuses the words its/it’s and then/than, you should walk run the other fucking direction.

PM2

Filed Under: FFS, Fuck. Me., WTF? ·

Why do I subject myself to this?

July 16, 2014 by ·

1344578729070_522530 There’s nothing I despise more than pseudo celebrities and I think that came across loud and clear in my rants about the Kimye wedding. But fret no more, now that the wedding debacle is past us, I have found something new to focus on.

Paris Fucking Hilton

Now Hubs B has always claimed she is hot and I’ve always begged to differ. And after her latest music video, I’m not sure how anyone can claim her as anything but an insipid twit stuck in the body of a thirteen year old girl.

This video is the biggest fucking shit show since the Ashlee Simpson SNL lip sync fiasco. In order to fully appreciate this post you must view the video.

Disclaimer: It’s going to be 4 minutes and 14 seconds of sheer what-the-fuck.

Ok, now that you’ve seen it, questioned why you watched and have picked your jaw off the floor; let’s go through my favorite parts.

The starfish bra…god, I fucking hope no starfish were harmed in the making of this video. They absolutely were!!! They were forced to listen to an auto tuned version of a song that outright sucks balls. And the extended pause between the words come and alive, make it seem nothing but pornographic. (Guessing that was the point…sex tape scandal, my ass…again.) She looks like a cross between a mermaid and a pixie and the tooth fairy and a small child playing dress up on a set where Rainbow Bright and Barbie had a bad bout with the stomach flu. You’re a grown ass woman, grow the fuck up. Oh wait, that’s impossible because you have far too much money to be required to be a responsible adult. And let me say, nothing screams adult like parading around in a field of cotton candy clouds wearing rhinestone panties.

But on to my favorite part!!! A unicorn!!! There’s a fucking real-life unicorn in this video!! Only Paris Hilton could land that kinda shit. I only wish I would’ve been cast as the unicorn; my disappointment is fucking epic. I would have totes used that horn to give her a few jabs back into the real world. (Maybe even one really swift one) She fucking needs it.

So in the end…who doesn’t have Stars Go Blind on their playlist? Make sure to add Come Alive. We want to keep supporting Paris Hilton. Well maybe I just want that unicorn to keep getting work. It’s gotta be tough, I doubt it’s the heir to a hotel fortune.

PM2

PS…Who ever created the ecard, no one is two words. Just sayin’.

Filed Under: FFS, What the hell is wrong with me, WTF? ·

Holy Mother of Viking Gods…

July 8, 2014 by ·

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Stop the fucking press…I’ve found my newest TV show obsession and the latest addition to what I like to refer to as my TV BFs.

Yes, I might be a little behind the eight ball, but whatever. Allow me to introduce the show, Vikings and the insanely sexy lead, whose blue eyes are nothing short of fucking mesmerizing, Ragnar Lothbrok (Travis Fimmel for googling purposes, peeps).

Holy shit…this show has got it all. I mean for starters, the guy is hot as fuck, but the story, the sets, the drama, the supporting cast, it’s all just epically fucking awesome. I’d heard rumors about this show, analogies of what it might be similar to, floating around and I gotta say, I totes agree…this show really is Sons of Anarchy meets Game of Thrones. And sexy Ragnor, well, he’s pretty much a Jax Teller – Jon Snow mash-up.

Yeah ladies, take a step the fuck back, this man is mine.

What’s it all about? Well, do we really care when this guy is strutting on screen? No, possibly not, but as good looking as he is, the story is also pretty kick ass too…and authentic, so major props to writer Michael Hirst for doing these Nordic bad boys justice. Telling the story of Ragnar, a rumored direct descendant of Odin (god of war and warriors for those of you who haven’t yet watched Thor), who leads his band of Viking brothers, while also looking after his family, in his quest to become King of the Viking Tribes. Not only is this man a fearless warrior, he’s a dedicated husband (plenty of sexy times peeps) and father. Thrown in for good measure is a healthy dose of Nordic traditions and devotion to the gods. I kid you not, I nearly shit myself when Ragnar told his son they were going to see Loki…

Fucking Loki!

Alas it wasn’t the cheeky little bad-boy we all know and love from such movies as Thor, Thor 2 and Avengers, but whatever, it’s a minor detail.

And quite frankly, Ragnar’s blue eyes more than make up for it. I mean seriously, it should be illegal to have eyes that blue. Holy fucking mother of Nordic gods, are they blue. And he is sexy and this show has got me hooked.

And for that Odin, I thank you.

PM1

Filed Under: Beautiful boy, Don't judge me, Fuck. Me., Holy shit burgers ·

True Blood…are you f**king kidding me???

July 7, 2014 by ·

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Ok…in keeping with my earlier, TV show obsessed post, I need to have a rant about the latest True Blood episode. As a warning, anyone who hasn’t seen episode 3 yet, stop reading. Not only are there going to be spoilers, I’m about to rant like a fucking lunatic.

Because seriously True Blood writers…

What. The. Fuck. was THAT?

Seriously? That’s all Alcide gets?

A random shot to the head by some fucking unknown loser hiding in the bushes who’s never held a fucking gun before, while Alcide is standing there buck fucking naked (so fucking hot) after swooping in with Sam to save the fucking day?

Fuck. Me. That, is total bullshit.

Yeah ok, I get what you’re doing, we all fucking do, it’s been blatantly obvious since this show started. I mean we all know Sookie is going to end up with Bill. It’s been destined since episode 1 peeps, long before the show stopped following the books and long before it went off the rails with it’s ridiculous storyline about fucking Lilith, the vampire demi-god or whatever the fuck she was.

But that’s not what this rant post is about. No this is about how un-fucking-fair Alcide’s death was. I mean aside from the fact the guy is a 6’5” man of fucking steel werewolf, he’s also a nice fucking guy, a guaranteed bit of eye candy and someone the fans love. He deserved more than that. He deserved an epic fucking showdown that didn’t just showcase his fighting skills and his abs of fucking steel, but also his huge love for Sookie and the rest of his peeps.

Instead we get some random dickhead accidentally-on-purpose popping a cap in his head?

Fuck, the least you could do was pan the fucking camera down so we could get the full monty shot as Alcide lay there dying and I sat on my couch screaming “NOOOOOOOOO.”

And yes I know this is the final season and shit’s gonna get real, but fuck me, what exactly did his death accomplish? All it did was undermine just how fucking awesome Alcide is and make him look like a motherfucking pussy.

Oh, and make me motherfucking pissed.

Take note True Blood. Take. Note.

PM1

Filed Under: Beautiful boy, Don't judge me, FFS, Fuck. Me., Holy shit burgers, Things that piss us off, WTF? ·

Justifiably awesome

July 7, 2014 by ·

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Now, it’s no secret that I’m a bit of a TV addict. At any one time, I can have between 12-15 different shows on the go at once. Yes, I know, it must be tough fitting all these in, what with a full-time job, a hubs and any number of other things to do. But as with all important things in life, some are just worth finding the time for.

And while I do admit to watching all the water cooler blockbusters that everyone else watches, I also have a love of the quirky, often ignored, but usually insanely good TV shows. And for this reason, I thought I’d take the time to blog about one such show I watch, that also happens to be a favorite.

And this would be a show called Justified.

Starring the insanely gorgeous Timothy Olyphant, this is a quirky, character-driven drama that features a law-bending US Marshall who is big on protecting his town and the people he loves, but isn’t above employing some deviant tricks to do so.

Now, let me just pause for a minute to discuss Timothy Olyphant. I’ve had a bit of a crush on this man for years. A crush that was pushed into full blown adoration when he starred in the cheesy, but still cute as fuck, movie, Catch and Release. I still don’t know what it was, something about the bad boy wooing the good girl fiancé of his dead best friend that really got me. Maybe it was that the good girl was Jennifer Garner (wife to the gorgeous Ben Affleck) or the inclusion of Kevin Smith (always Silent Bob to me) as one of her roomies, I don’t know. What I do know is I fucking loved this movie…still do now. But I also loved him as the nameless Assassin seeking vengeance in Hit Man. I mean this boy can rock the shaved head and barcode tatt like nobody’s business. And fuck me, when he showed up as the sexily black-clad bad boy in Die Hard 4…well that was me yelling, “Yikee kiyay motherfucker!”

But then Justified came along, and everything changed. Because here was a show that not only let me watch Timothy once a week, but it also displayed his amazingly good acting chops. I mean it takes a talented guy to pull off a Stetson, a southern drawl and a name like Raylan, and still ooze sex appeal. And let me tell you peeps, this man has got it. Throw in the amazing fucking dialogue this show produces (“I’m just gonna file that under ‘who gives a shit,’” or “He’s armed, he’s dangerous and he’s an asshole”), the hilarious and always entertaining storylines and the downright adorable little crush he still has on his ex-wife Winona, and well, I am sold.

But now, with the sixth and final season currently in production, I have to prepare myself for the loss of my weekly dose of Timothy Olyphant. It’s going to be hard, but I do think the decision to end this show on a high is a good one. If you haven’t had a chance to watch this show yet, I highly recommend you do.

 “It’s my job, being a dick. It’d be weird if you liked me.”

No Raylan, I think it would be weird if we didn’t like you.

PM1

Filed Under: Beautiful boy, Totes adorbs ·
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