All Ari, all the time.

I am sure there were things I was gonna say today. I'm sure I was gonna, like, have a thought or possibly, two, maybe write something (Shepherd totally has a man-crush on Burke) or put up some music, but, uh, antheia decided that today would be an excellent day for her to put up Ari-picspam, and who am I to stop that? There's, like, photographs of him in suits, and have you seen his his HANDS?

So, uh, yeah. Ari.

Note; I write RPS crack-fic. I think everyone knows this. George. Ari. Jake. Totally all fictional, except for you know, the real people and the bits where avid_slacker points out that Out of 100 people in the room, George and Jake feel compelled to stand next to each other at the Oscar luncheon photo. And apparently, they were clowing around on Access Hollywood, too. You know, when I write crack, I expect for it to *stay* crack. The whole realistic thing is totally fucking with my head.

Ari says: Why the hell do I have to find out who you're fucking from fucking Access Hollywood, George? Why kind of shit is that? I am your agent; I own you! Your ass has PROPERTY OF ARI GOLD tattoed on it. You are supposed to call me *before* you put that fucking condom on! When you flip the top on that lube, you think of ME!