So fucking hot. So fucking Unavailable.

[Get ready, babes, This post has pictures. Lots of them. ;) And I'm trying something out: the "read more" link (below)! Have fun!]

Simple words cannot describe the breathtaking hotness of the man named Gaspard Ulliel.
Goddamn it, I need to move myself to France.

Fuck.

And no, not in that way. Not yet, anyway.

He even looks good with scruff! What? (And don't even think that Orlando or Johnny can pull off the sexy whiskers look better. They can't. I know, blasphemous(!), but true.)

Gaspard, and the many gorgeous faces of him, is the precise reason I don't use age as a deciding factor for prospective beaus. He looks just as drop-dead gorgeous when he was seventeen as he does now (at the terribly unattainable age of 26). And if any boy (above the age of 15. Really, even I'm not that much of a cradle-robber) is lucky enough to have the same appeal, then who am I to abstain? Although I do admit, his new look is a bit iffy. Almost-mullet and Johnny Depp mustache? Nah... He is still beautiful, no doubt. Just perhaps slightly less so without proper grooming.

I have to say, early twenties were his golden years. Perhaps when I reach that milestone (and when he really ages beyond my grasp), my line will finally reel in good quality fish.

Another reason I'm looking forward to college.

If I cannot have Gaspard (oh, bebe) in my lifetime, I can only hope to attack the first unfortunate undergrad I see in whatever (prestigious) university I will attend who looks just as beautiful, hot, sexy, smokin', French, and fuckable as Sir Ulliel.

Why is Gaspard Ulliel so desirable? (fuck, why is he not mine?)

. He is gorgeous. Duh.

. Dark hair and blue eyes = instant brownie points. It works for both genders, actually.

 Take model Katarzyna Dolinska, for example. Okay, so maybe it's only me who has a serious soft spot for this magical combination.

. He is amazingly talented with a mile-long list of ridiculous (in a good way) roles. Really, have you seen that film in which he partakes in a gay love story? Jesus Christ, that was hot cute. And young Hannibal Lector in Hannibal Rising, shit.

. He's French. Okay, yeah, so he eats croissants (I hope you read that with a French accent in your mind. Seriously, try it.) and speaks with a nasal accent and likes to kill his lungs with tobacco -- his only bad point, that, and the O.Bloom look he's sporting lately. Ech.... 

Anyway. His nationality (and incidentally, race) has blessed him with a certain sophisticated mannerism, self-esteem, and romantic nature. It's the male embodiment of an epic chick flick. And even men take guilty pleasure from chick flicks. (Yeah, I know your little secret.)

. He's not gay, but can still kiss another man and make it look hot. What? I assure you, I draw that statement regardless of the fact that I live in San Francisco and that all the hot men I have ever met are either too old or too gay.  

Gay boys are cute, period. And if you're a homophobe (which spellcheck so kindly corrects to homophone; actually, I wonder what it feels like to be a homophone...), then you're simply missing out on a whole world of guilty pleasures. (Like chocolate-covered strawberries and snacks before dinner. Mmm... tempted yet?)

Yeah, I'm going straight to hell, already bought my ticket. A pity at this age, I know.

. He's into older women! Okay, this technically should make him much less desirable. (Even more, considering all of his current and past belles are the quintessential opposites of me.) Okay, I don't even know why this is on the list. Maybe the rampant chick in me is wishing for some sort of, "Oh, I'm a sexy gold-digger but I could not resist you, the opposite of my type. Why is my heart so confused? Oh, it must be destiny." Blah, blah, blah. (And yes, the "Oh"s are meant to be dramatic, like fainting and swooning ladies kind of "Oh".)

. He takes shit seriously. Goes over his scripts repeatedly, extensively researches his characters, gets nervous during interviews, takes care of his body, stays down-to-earth, watchful of his image and speech, does not dress sloppily, I can go on.

. He just is, okay? He's like a mix of Chace Crawford, Orlando Bloom, and the cute Sophomore in my Spanish class.

And, on a slightly related topic, I finally found my dream image.

I know, what the hell am I talking about?

It's an outfit that I'm absolutely positively in love with and wish I owned.

Gorgeous. Okay, minus the bow.

I am now on a hunt for those shoes, good lord. I can already picture tons of different outfits that those heels would complete perfectly. Ahh!

Yes, I am squealing silently inside my mind.

So, I'm thinking of starting a fashion blog, just maybe. Unless I'm seriously over-estimating myself, I think my fashion sense is improving. (And I would have more practice, if not for the terrible San Francisco weather.)

And, yeah, I know nobody comments. But whatever. If you've been readin' this, then drop me a note and say "hey". I don't bite.

Most of the time.

:)

Fashion. Fiction. Manga. Gaspard. 

Rinse and repeat. 

My life is complete.

Cue the Music:

Diplomat's Son - Vampire Weekend