The Honestly Seriously Now That's What I'm Talkin' 'Bout Post.

By now we've all seen those blessed pictures of Cindy sunbathing topless, and by now it's pretty damn clear that I can't actually post any of them here. But I can still link...

The Proof Through The Night That Cindy Rocks Post.

Obvious symbolism, this? Anyway, we have Terry Richardson to thank for this image.

This and more like it turn up here on account of GQ celebrating its 50th anniversary - if only this blog accepted .art pictures I could show you images of the Queen attending its party that would make everyone who gushes over Adriana Lima chop off their own genitalia in remorse. But luckily other people have more adaptable blogs, like Derek Hail here.

If she's on the cover, you will hear my scream of delight wherever you are in the world.

...and Cindy at the "Ocean's 13" premiere.

Not like this, unfortunately.




With Sharon's money worries permeating myself as well, and with my complete failure to care about Jericho getting a mini-reprieve and Prison Break being poached by Sky (and by "poached" I mean "being willing to pay a higher price than Five was" - it's called business, people. Deal with it), I need something to cheer me up.

Mission accomplished. And not in the George W. Bush sense, the actual sense. Having detested the first movie and taken my leave of Sharon when she put on the secon, wild horses could not get me to see the third one. But Cindy could if she was in it.


The end.

Cindy > Tyra.

End of.