Sarah: OK, first, no one rides horses in diaphanous gowns unless you are dying for chapped, chafed skin.
Second, open shirt? What is WITH the OPEN SHIRT on all these MEN? Do we need empirical proof that they have nipples?!
And finally: that horse has the thickest, shortest neck I’ve ever seen. Now that is cruelty.
Candy: Maybe they need empirical proof that the dude doesn’t have a third nipple or a partially-resorpted conjoined twin below his xyphoid process or something? I do think that according to the medical wisdom of the time, riding around open-shirted into a raging river on a rearing stallion with your main squeeze perched precariously on your lap is a sure recipe for the ague. Or drowning.
Either way, what bliss.
Sarah: I always look at these making-out-naked-under-the-waterfall things and think two things:
1. Ew. Leeches!
2. Ew! LEECHES!
I mean, seriously, who is going to hop naked into a waterfall pool and not find something squicky on the bottom under their toes?
Don’t fuck in the swamp! Don’t do it!
Candy: Aieeeee! I guess the dude compensates for her complete lack of muscle mass by having enough for a small island nation.
Sarah: I know this is a feature of Photoshop – but which one? Is it the pastels filter? And does anyone know WHY the artist decided to use it? Do they need to look like they have a fungus?
And this one has some excellent font action going on, too. Lady of FIRE! Just say with with a Beavis voice and it gets even better. Fire. FIRE! Lady of FIRE!
Also, is he, um, screwing her in mid-air? Is this a circus routine?
Candy: Wow. I didn’t know the Ice-Capades were popular in the Old West. Just you wait, he’s about to toss her so she can spin into a double axel. It also explains her gawdawful outfit.
I also love how the woman looks as if she’s orgasmically happy with her hair, too, like one of those Clairol Herbal Essences ads. Dude thought it was his wiener, but really, she’s moaning in ecstasy from her totally organic experience.
Sarah: I once had a photo like this taken of me. Not with my shirt open and a pelt on my back. But I went to Glamour Shots and they airbrushed the shit out of my face and that’s kind of what it looked like: all matte and perfect.
I don’t know what he’s so blue about – there are millions of men in NYC who would kill for that level of smooth manscaping.
Nice Harry Potter scar, too.
Candy:
High above the mucky-muck, castle made of clouds,
There sits Wonderboy, sitting oh so proudly.
Not much to say when you’re high above the mucky-muck.
Yeah, yeah.
Wonderboy, what is the secret of your power?
Wonderboy, won’t you take me far away from the mucky-muck man?Now it’s time for me to tell you about Young Nastyman,
Archrival and nemesis of Wonderboy, with powers comparable to Wonderboy.
What powers, you ask? I dunno, how ‘bout the power of flight?
That do anything for ya? That’s levitation, holmes.
How ‘bout the power to kill a yak from 200 yards away…
with mind bullets! That’s telekinesis, Kyle.
How ‘bout the power… to move you?
Hmmm. Apparently, some romance novel covers make me think of Tenacious D songs. Time to up the dose of my medication. Can’t wait to see which cover inspires me to think of “Fuck Her Gently.”
Oh. Wait.
Sarah: This guy is creepy. And it looks like there’s another person in the bed next to him, over to his right.
Candy: Dude. What a skanky-ass pose. I have the oddest feeling that he has the sheet over such a strategic area because he’s covering something…not great. Is it just me? Anyone? Anyone? Bueller?
I checked out the action shots, chickens. (Giggles madly.) Apparently our brunette Fabio considers himself a Movie Star. Lots of motorcycles, manboobs, and boxing poses.
What a letdown…
So do you have to set me up to have random fancies like “I can just see Gollum using the One Ring on that doped up dude as some sort of cock ring for his teenie weenie,†and then leave me shaking in disgust at my own sickness?
Um, perhaps this wouldn’t be a good time to mention that when the ring is put on, the subject wearing the ring disappears.
Oh good lord. I was looking at Studly McDud’s profile page, and listed there:
“HOBBIES: Riding and building custom motorcycles, airbrushing, boating and water bikes”
Airbrushing? Well, that certainly explains the covers, then.
*ba-dum-tish*
Airbrushing? Airbrushing WHAT? The mind, it wonders, it does.
Unless he is airbrushing pictures of himself onto boats and waterbikes.
Or maybe he’s airbrushing his name onto tight tshirts that then get ripped down the middle for beefcake romance covers? Because no man can keep his shirt buttoned in the 1800’s in a romance novel. It’s just unheard of.
“Airbrushing? Airbrushing WHAT? The mind, it wonders, it does.
Unless he is airbrushing pictures of himself onto boats and waterbikes.”
Or maybe he’s getting his cosmetology license so he can airbrush his photo on all those acrylic nails scraping down his waxed-to-perfection naked backside—who are we to judge that they’re glued onto one of those life-like rubber sex dolls? That’s just practice for all those real life “dolls” who want a piece of Big John.
Hmmm. Considering his unnaturally smooth skin (the man must be waxed from the neck down) methinks perhaps he enjoys airbrushing pics of his god-sent gloriousness onto his own body. Surely it’s the only suitable canvas for such divine artwork?
BTW, I sure do know the power of the Ring. Been a Tolkien fan since I was 10. Looking at loverboy’s vacuous puss, I think an invisible lover might not be a bad idea.
Lene’
Ohhhh,I remember him now. I kneeled in front of him in a leather outfit to get a necklace at the EC party. He complimented my flogger and bridle.
Knelt. Ack.
Oh MY! HA!
I have never been here before, but found this via Sara Donati’s (Storytelling) blog, and just had to comment that this post is Hilarious.
I’ll be forwarding this link to about 5 friends/family who read romance novels (usually the ones without the trashy covers).
Good work, Ladies.