Secondary Obsession of the Month
or more Jeffrey Dean Morgan please
Some of you may think I'm solely consumed by my love of all-things-Rhett, but you'd be wrong. Sure Rhett may be the King of all my Thangs right now, but there are others who get my motor running...if you know what I mean. (I love that phrase. It makes anything sound dirty.)
Case in point is one Jeffrey Dean Morgan. If any of you are devout followers of Grey's Anatomy, JDM is familiar to you as one Denny Duquette--hunky dead guy.
He is so manly, I could just lick his face! Seriously. Look at him... Seriously.
Those who know me well are aware of my appreciation for men. I like being around guys. I like how they look. I like how they smell. I like how they tease, and I love their bawdy sense of humor. There is no bigger aphrodisiac for me than the combination of intelligence and a roaring sense of humor. Throw in a Scottish accent or slight Southern drawl and my ovaries are quivering like an Aspen on a warm, breezy day. Mr. Morgan here is totally my type...tall, dark, handsome, gorgeous chocolate brown eyes and a Cheshire Cat grin. H-A-W-T!! For lovers of the Stephanie Plum series by Janet Evanovich...he is soooo Joe Morelli!! Hotter still.
Wait..do you hear that purr? That's my ovaries humming. Yowza!
Granted there's not enough Denny Duquette in Grey's Anatomy for my liking, being that he's dead and all. And even though this last three episode arc featuring the return of the uber-hunky dead guy is a treat for us ladies, the show has totally jumped the Happy Days shark in a big way. Come on. Even I can't suspend my belief enough to ignore the preposterous notion that he could magically take corporeal form and make love to Izzie--enthusiastically enough to make her sweat...profusely. Please. That just ain't right. Not that I'm not enjoying gazing at the boy on our drive-in-movie sized computer monitor. I am. But, please. Izzie better have a brain tumor or some other such predicament to explain this crap away. At the very least she better be lying in a broken heap on the hospital basement cement floor, drifting between life and death.
Not that I'm going to stop watching or anything.
As a viewer I'm owed a viable explanation. Yeah. That's it. That's my story and I'm sticking with it. Besides...Hello? Denny D is still around. I may be a bit peeved, but I'm not nuts. I mean, come on...look at him. Hey, as the blog title states..blame it on being a girl.