... or the naked form of Daniel Craig anyway.

I am shamelessy stealing this link from Sminchy as I just HAVE to share this with as many as possible.

I am a recent Daniel Craig convert after seeing a movie called Layer Cake this past weekend. I happened to mention this on Sminchys blog and she wonderfully ( and I am forever in her debt ) found this for me to drool over.

Anyway, if you are also a fan of his fine self ..and more importantly a fan of his naked form then please feel free to join me here in heaven ... scroll to the bottom of page.

Disclaimer : Please do not comment that you are offended blah blah ... cos if you are in my blog then odds are you know what to expect of me anyway!!

Tra la la la la la la fucking de da !!!!

I am a sick and evil woman. It is offical.

I am sitting staring out of my window. I like doing this as it pisses off those in my building who do not have a window to come by my office and to see me staring obsessively romantically out of it.

Across the road there is a team of chav builders erecting ( love that word ) scaffolding. The one ever so smart twat is using his shoe to bang bolts into place as he is too stupid lazy to climb back down and get the mallet that he left in his toolbox.

Now, my sick evil part comes in because I am sitting here in a morbid trance of fascination watching him do his high class construction as the ever growing scaffolding is swaying.

I am thinking of strolling around the office and taking bets on the time of his descent from the swaying like hands at a Bon Jovi concert ever so stable stucture. Maybe I could run out and paint a big X and ask that he aim for it on his way down.

In other news: New books have just arrived. * drools *

Mid nineties. 1996.

California. Los Angeles.

Test driving a nice standard American muscle car. Red Camero.

Find a nice looking bar on Hwy 101. Decide a few drinks on test drive should be ok. Numerous shots of Jagermeister.

Am aware I shouldn't drive the car now. Am totally wasted.

The next little while is a mystery to me. The next 24 hours.

My next memory is of sitting on a curb next to pretty red car being rather unladylike. Throwing up on my feet.

The car is parked a little wierd. Front end embedded against wall.

Someone comes and sits next to me on the curb. Tells me the police are on the way.

I am too fucking tired to move and am rather busy. Throwing up still.

This person ,who incidentally is slurring as bad as I am and looks as bad as I do, hands me a bottle of water and tells me to sip it slowly.

Next memory is of laying in the back of a car that is quite decidely not the shiny but crumpled red Camero. Taken to flea bag motel and left in the parking lot.

Ladies, gentleman and others .... I have just been removed from the scene of the drunken fueled driving accident by one very high young lady who seemed to at that time have a penchant for staying high much to the tabloids delight.

The moral of the story. Don't drink more than two shots of Jagermeister if you wish your feet to stay puke free and for fucks sake try to be sober enough to get an autograph!!

Edit: I did send a cheque to both the car dealership for the damage to the car and the chinese restaurant for the damage to the wall.