He was pure as snow. Then he drifted.
http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2009/05/06/AR2009050603897.html
Let me just say, categorically, inspite of anything I may have said, in jest, regarding the obvious attractions of Father Cutie - It wasn't me. My hands never left my wrists. And his hands were never in my bikini bottoms.
This defines the line between "things you say" and "things you do". The things you say are "ha ha". The things you do can end up a "Ha-whoa, no." You can read The Thorn Birds. You shouldn't live The Thorn Birds. That's just a whole world of mess.
And, girl, you goin' straight to hell. Don't mess with the collar.
And speaking of that collar, if the Catholic church isn't going to rethink it's position of on celibacy, it really should re-think the uniform. Cause, let's be real. It's kind of hot. You take even an ordinary looking guy, stick him in all black with a pop of white, and you have one attractive nuisance. It's like bringing out a t-bone and saying "You can look at it. You can smell it. But don't eat it." That's just mean.
Why don't they make all priests wear those monk robes? Baggy, brown burlap tied up with a rope? That's a hard look to pull off, let alone look sexy in. And on the really good looking ones you can pull the hood on 'em. Outta sight, outta mind. Lead me not into temptation.
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2 comments:
Hm, I don't know if the uniform is that hot - only if you are tall and thin - just like cop or military uniforms -- any paunch or stooped shoulders or stumpy legs - the look is ruined.
Okay, I'll admit I'm a sucker for the Johnny Cash thing. It won't say it will make a 2 into a 10. But it can definitely take a 7 into 9 territory. Add in some forbidden fruit . . . yikes. Devil, get thee behind me.
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