Mancandy Monday: Dat Ass

As I'm still fancying the living love God that is Sharlto Copley and all of his divine gloriousness, and can't work up the necessary effort to create a Mancandy Monday about a being who is not Sharlto Copley (he's ruined me for other men. Just ruined me), I thought I'd do a post that honours one of my favourite internet things:

Unf, dat ass. As in, you know. You see an ass and go UNF. Dat ASS.

So behold! The asses!

Yeah, this is Sharlto Copley's ass. It is a rare and beautiful sight, here presented in its natural habitat- a pair of almost see-through blue hospital pants. Of course, if he were not wearing said hospital pants, I'd be much happier. But we can't have everything, now, can we gentle Bertha.

Though I don't know why I'm calling you gentle. The reason Sharlto Copley has a restraining order against us is because you tried to take a bite out of that sweet, sweet candy. Goddamn you, Bertha, and your total lack of self-restraint! And love of candy!

Anyhoo, another ass!

This time it's Nathan Fillion's. I have been talking, of late, with the author KJ Reed, about the bounty that is Nathan Fillion's ass. Hopefully I'm going to be over at her blog on Tuesday, discussing my thoughts on it, as it features rather prominently in my drea- my novella, The Horizon. You know, the one that's still out now? Yeah, Quade has an apple butt because of the apple butt you see here, shining out at you like a glorious beacon of all that is good and right in the world.

Okay- more asses. Alexander Skarsgard's this time.

Now, I don't know what to think of this ass. It seems to have a deep, deep chasm between the buttocks, in a rather unsettling way. As though his ass is the surface of Mars, and the Valles Marineris lies right in the middle, just waiting to disgorge alien space vampires or some other such thing.

And yes, I realise that all of the above sounds like some sort of metaphor for pooing. Which I swear, it isn't. It's just...what's with the deep chasm, Alexander? Do you keep things in that mammoth groove, between your buttocks? A spare pencil, perhaps? What am I saying! You could keep a pencil case in that valley. You could keep me in there, nestled safely and happily in your butt crack.

And believe me, Alexander Skarsgard, I would be happy. Clenched by your muscular buttocks. Able to roam where I might, with my two free hands. Ah, bliss.

But enough of that insanity. Onto more crazy!

This time, it's Bradley Cooper's. Ass crack.

Yeah, I never said that this post wasn't going to also be kind of gross. But it's the right kind of gross, is it not? It is the sexy kind of gross, whereby you feel dirty and not right for wanting to lick that trapped butt crack, but can still comfortably revel in your own filthiness.

Though I have to say, I think that's how Bertha got into trouble, with Sharlto Copley. Call me crazy. Just a hunch. She should know that when a man bends down and accidentally shows butt crack, that is not a cue to poke your tongue where it's not wanted.

Bad Bertha.