Wimbledon

Now that I have dusted my hands of F I can feel like I can back onto observing and enjoying life with complete freedom. Phwoar. That's quite the statement which I have exaggerated greatly.

Today at lunch, a kookaburra swooped down and literally snatched a piece of chicken off of Big Michelle's fork. The gall of some birds.

Speaking of gall, you missed out on a fun luncheon, Helen...

Yesternight, I was trying to describe to the appeal of Paul Bettany in Wimbledon to Big Michelle. It is a movie that, while being completely cheesy, is actually very attractive in my opinion. You see, I think it comes down to evolution. The whole point of evolution is to make babies and make a new generation that are better than the previous one. So when you see two talented people having sexy times it's like, "Yeah! Evolution and shit!" and it's immediately sexy and amazing.
Not to mention how hot as hale Paul Bettany is in it... Especially the calves of blonde male specimens with that fine blond fuzz. It's very attractive. Especially when encased in white socks and shoes. Hence why Wimbledon is my favourite sporting event in the history of athletics.
But I think a picture is worth a thousand words, so here:



Okay, so this picture doesn't exactly exhibit Paul Bettany's delightful calves but I looked up "paul bettany wimbledon" and this was one of the pictures that showed up so I just thought... what the hell, let's give the readers what they want.

This was actually the only picture that really exemplified his great calves but I wanted an action shot and couldn't find one. Oh well. At least you sort of get the best of both worlds here, if you know what I'm saying...

J