Goddamn those are some legs, baby.
Although you had me with the boots, I love the picture of the roses on the wall and the cat toy on the floor. I love that couch.
Does this gent got kilt? You bet your ass he does.
Now then, behold this charmer:
With a satisfaction to which I cannot properly assign enough pleasure, I am going to quote him from this accurately titled post Women love men in skirts!:
So I went shopping on my return home and found a really nice skirt, pleated, nice flow, just below the knee length, unfortunately it’s one of those ‘dry clean only’. CT mentioned that I could hand wash it in cold water and that would do the trick, so my $3.00 find at the local thrift store was looking better. It fits a little tight around the waist but I figure if I live off yougurt and rice cakes for a few days, it should be perfect for Friday night’s dance.
So perfect is that block of text, I shall not annotate it.
Having perused his pages, in which he mentions me at least once, I found him to be a yingyang-ish individual, and was glad to learn that I garner a reader of his ilk.
Still want more kilt? This lovely has an entire parade of kilts posted over at flickr.
I. Love. Men.
When you're a sexy guy, you're a sexy guy. When you're a sexy guy in a skirt, well, then I'm just plain taking my pants off.
Mustaches. Kilts. Whiskers. Furry chests. Hard legs. Jesus I cannot contain myself. This is all I've got:
Confidential to he who knows who he is: Perverted mind? From whence doth such an assertion come, sir? I ask ye to support said description with evidence gleaned from these hallowed pages.
Confidential to he of the Home of Hyperopia: These silly little broads are cute and everything, but they got nuttin' on the gents. Stick to the nude lady on the bicycle, no matter how uninspired her nectar. And the Petula Clark, baby. Stick with the Petula Clark.