Keepin’ It Real

I heard something the other day that means i will never feel self-conscious about my fan odyssey again, or maybe not as often. It seems Beyonce has a religion of her own. It’s called Beysim. What the heck?! I knew there was a reason I don’t keep up with popular culture too closely.

Of course Beyonce is a great singer, but I’m never gonna be a member of her church after watching this video. :D

When I was watching that for the first time a few years ago, I started looking around to see if someone could see what I was watching. But I could have saved myself the stress if I had known she would have her own religion.

Still felt like I lost a few brain cells.


So you’re on Twitter now, and your style has improved. It’s true. You went from this:

richard armitage bafta 2007

to this:

BAFTA Los Angeles TV Tea 2013

But man, please don’t become too hip. If you get too slick, I may find myself in the midst of some real groupies. AS it is, I did hear about some shrines laying around, and there is some sort of mark worn by really RAbid fans and recognized by same. Of course that’s just scuttlebutt, so I’m not really sure it’s true.

Whatever is going on, I like to keep my obsessions real. KWIM?

A Crazy Fan who is NOT in denial. Nope. ;-)

P.S. I like the new you, but I also love the guy who went to the 2007 BAFTAs. :)

And now for the story I’ve been saving since I came back from NYC a month ago. I was in the airport waiting for my plane, and a woman saw one of Guylty’s badges on my coat. She actually stared at it intently, and then she started talking to me and eventually mentioned how much she enjoys BBC programs. I chimed in with my enthusiasm, and then she said, “I especially love one that I’ve never seen on any networks here in the states.” My ears pricked up, and I almost felt what she was going to say next. “It stars an actor I have come to adore. Perhaps you’ve heard of him. Richard Armitage?” Then she looked at my badge again. I felt like we were two spies having an encounter.

More on Beyism here if you don’t believe it’s real.

Candid shots courtesy of Richard Armitage Central and my stash

I Gave Myself a Christmas Present

Harry Kennedy smiling

I’m sorry I’ve been a downer to some of you lately. It is a problem from time to time when my sane self wants to have a go at a blog piece. But I’m happy to report I am sufficiently demented today such that my tongue is so far in my cheek, I’m not sure it will ever come out. It being lodged in there has facilitated this post.

But before I begin, I hope you all had a wonderful Christmas and are still having a wonderful time. May that be the case all year round and without having to spend inordinate amounts of money. Since I’ve already waxed on about spending money at Christmas (also written as my sane self), I’ll refrain this time around. So yeah, this post is hopefully about something other than spending money on myself, which I did last week when I spent $118 at an Aveda salon.

Shame on me for admitting that. It’s crass to talk money like that, but I did spend $118 to get my hair done and get some product. For those of you who have been to an Aveda salon, had the treatment and bought some product, you know I got off cheap. And it’s really astounding I had the privilege when I consider I just did a walk-in on them. They don’t take walk-ins, but I walked in and announced I was getting my hair cut somewhere that day, and if they could work me in, great, and if not, that was fine too. They were cutting my hair 20 minutes later, and it felt good, ’cause they usually massage your head while they’re at it, and they’re into aromatherapy, so the massage not only feels good but smells good. It always makes me want to go to sleep and dream. In fact, I had a hard time staying awake, and afterward, in my groggy state, as I stumbled to the cashier, I felt they were doing me a favor to take my $118.

But that’s not what I want to talk about.

When I was first reading this year’s Christmas message from Richard Armitage, I was reading as I usually do, meaning my sane and somewhat cynical self reads those messages. That’s not to say I read them with an eye toward criticizing our object, but rather that I always read them with the understanding they are goodwill gestures from Richard Armitage, who is polite enough to still give a nod, if not a dance, to the ones he sees as partially bringing him. I appreciate that, but I never take those things personally. Until this year when for half a second, I felt he was actually talking to me.

See I told you my insane self was back. That I’m admitting this has to be about the most crazy thing I’ve done on this blog. (Can you say tin hat? Sure you can. :D) My sane self immediately admonished me, and the self-flagellation continued as I got notes from some of you telling me the same thing — that Richard was talking to me! Me!

Sane self continued to hold out and Christmas came, and yes, it was good; no media or barely any for over a day. The family and I had a wonderful time together. But yesterday morning, I asked myself what it would be like to believe after the rough year I’ve had and SO too, mainly SO, that Richard Armitage would encourage me specifically. That’s when I decided to let myself think it for a day. So yesterday morning I received the encouragement as a personal gift. May I say it felt good. The ultimate in a head massage, and yes the smell of it was wonderful.

It gave me the chance to relive something that I think was intended as sweet and is sweet, and well written too, since I think half the fandom felt like I did and thought he was talking to them personally. LOL!

Dear Richard,

Thanks again for your comforting words. They were a bit of a balm — when I let myself fully receive them without any qualms that it’s insane to see it as personal. I accepted your encouragement as from another human being. Maybe not someone I know, but someone who seems to be sweethearted, and I really do appreciate that about you. Does it mean you can never be harsh or irritated about something? No, I’d say that makes you human. And that’s okay.

And even though I’ve couched this message in some fun, and I’m putting the fake fan letter tag on this post, I mean this sincerely. Thank you.

Stuart Smalley A crazy fan who hopefully will have a better 2014 than 2013, and I fully expect to see heaven.

P.S. Oh, and if I ever do make it back to a fan event, I want you to know you will be able to spot me easily as I’ll be wearing this:

Catch you later.

Will someone please, please buy me that hat?! Found here.

The Next Post

Didn’t I say this was the upcoming post? Yes, I’m feeling a bit cheesy, which is good for this blog. It’s when I don’t feel cheesy that I can’t really get into it.

So where was I? Oh yeah, I wanted to talk about Lucas North. No, it doesn’t matter that you’ve put that unpleasantness behind you, I haven’t. For about a year now I’ve been crafting posts to deal with my “issues” with Spooks. The problem is that more than half of them are rants, but bear with me as I decide which ones to inflict on you and give Lucas his due. I owe that to Richard Armitage and his wonderful ability to develop a character.

In the meantime, a little teaser from the Spooks 7 set:

For those who have been following this blog for quite a while, this isn’t a new one, but I had to post it again for someone, somewhere who is an Armitage lover and might have missed it the first time ’round. This picture about takes my head off. Seriously, I think I would swoon if I saw someone that good looking standing in front of me. If you don’t feel the effect, click on it to zoom in, and click again to really zoom in. Go ahead; you’ll be glad you did. :D

Okay, onto a new teaser for the rest of you:

How interesting to observe him at work and that closely. If I’m being honest, and I like to think I’m very honest, I would love that. It would be much more rewarding than having him sign an autograph for me that I would merely place in a box somewhere and probably never look at again. But these pictures? These are fascinating. And do I have to make the disclaimer that I would not post anything that was in a private setting? Apparently I feel compelled hence the question. :D Obviously, these aren’t private, and I appreciate Richard Armitage allowing himself to be photographed at work. He could have precluded that, but he didn’t. I know it might even have been irritating since he is a hyper-sensitive person. As a graduate of the Institute for Advanced Armitage Studies, I believe I’m qualified to make that assessment of him, and it’s immaterial if this is a manifestation of CW. It feels good. :D

Off to figure out how to get closure on Lucas.

Behind the scenes photos of Spooks 7 courtesy of Kuchinggirl. More of her lovely work coming up.

P.S. My boy got All-American. Sorry, I couldn’t help but sneak that in since I’m so proud of him!!

Felled By The Sexy Back

The best laid schemes… Oh how they can blow up in our faces. Thankfully, since I’m not a man, I must be a mouse. Not sure yet, but for a few minutes a couple of nights ago, I could have put my fist through a wall. This morning I’m still a little unsure of myself but less so as the clock ticks. And the clock ticking is what started all of this here. You thought it was Richard Armitage? Hang around, and I’ll disabuse you of that notion although there might be some confusion when posts like this appear.

I still can’t look at that picture without blinking my eyes and shaking my head to clear it. Ironically, that really might be his sexiest picture.

And since I usually muddle up the paragraph breaks in my posts not to mention all of my other grammatical sins, I might as well do it up right and just place them wherever I want and hope you understand my convoluted mind. Honestly, I never have known the best way to place paragraph breaks; topic sentences mystify me. So glad that hasn’t stopped me. Now for the awkward transition.

Sometime last weekend an item from RAFrenzy inadvertently posted on my personal Facebook wall, and if you need to heat some coffee or tea, you can place it next to my head where the steam is coming out. Previously I just disliked Facebook, now I despise it. This has jeopardized my anonymity to a degree it has never happened during the life of the blog. Yeah, I know some of you know who I am because I’ve let you know, and for all of you other RA fans who may have guessed, I’m not concerned about you. It’s the family I don’t want reading. SO and the kids are not so much the problem. I mean the extended family. They would not get it, so I don’t want them reading and possibly giving input. If I did, they would already know about it. Wait! Some of them now do. Damn Facebook.

So how did this happen? Oh, I’m going to tell you so I can give this rant full vent and also give you a heads up. It happened on my phone where I haven’t mastered the ability to control scripts so I only have running the ones I want. For the uninitiated, scripts drive the web page you’re on, and sometimes scripts include all sorts of nasty things that you don’t really want running. For me Facebook is nasty, and especially so when the Facebook mobile app will not let me log out, and I have to clear my data every time I want to make sure it’s not logged in, and even then it’s not a sure thing. Can you see that steam now?! Let me make this really plain. If you’re logged into Facebook, and you are on a site that has a link to Facebook, you can inadvertently post a “Like” to your wall. Given that links to Facebook have wormed their way onto virtually every site on the web, there is a vulnerability you might be posting things to your FB wall that you never intended [waves hand vigorously in the air while saying ‘choice’ words]. Same thing with Twitter, which I still like, but I may ended up despising for the same reason.

And I wouldn’t have been on my phone if I hadn’t been determined to work on my blog post about Richard’s back. Okay, enough of that rant, but just know that despite my irritation, I’m not letting this keep me from blogging. On to the good stuff.

I did promise some more pictures, which I really was about to post a couple of nights ago before I got rattled.

His size and vantage point scream masculinity, but that’s not enough to make these pictures so compelling. His attentive nature is still evident. Man, I really have a bad case of CWS. Who woulda thunk a set of pictures of his back would bring on such a bout?

This one really does make me think I can reach out and hug him:

This one almost looks like a kid trying to get the lay of the land:

It is amazing to me how he can still convey a purity without using his facial expressions. Yep, I have a raging case of CWS.

More candid shots coming, but no more backs.

Going For It

Many times I’ve wondered how long this blog’s life would be, and no, I’m not going anywhere. I’m still here and will be here for a while longer. How long I don’t know. As long as I get some fulfillment and fun from it I suppose. But candidly sometimes that fun is hard work. Of course life is full of obstacles, and usually the obstacles involve people or money. Come to think of it they all involve people or money. Now I’m not here to talk about money, and I doubt anyone has ever read my blog expecting me to talk about money. Although truth be told, I could talk about money for quite a while. But I’ll spare you. Today. So people it is.

People are infinitely fascinating even when they’re being a pain in the ass. At least that’s how I choose to see it, and if I didn’t choose to see it that way, I would not have done this blog past a few weeks. I also knew choosing the subject of Richard Armitage for my blog would bring with it an element that is absurd (no offense to Richard), and in case it’s not obvious to some, I’ve used that absurdity to spring myself forward. But sometimes I can’t find the humor in some of these people who are mean. I try never to cave to thoughts like this here (diary entries excepted), but I’ve slipped up a couple of times and day before yesterday was one of those times. I immediately regretted making that post, but after I had a little time to ruminate on it, I decided that it really was something that should have been broached.

On to the point of this piece. Yep, that was all a preface. I’m partial to prefaces lately. :D

If you’re going to blog, you cannot let people get to you — especially if they’re trying to get to you. If they get to you, then they have defeated you. They’ve stopped you. I was reading one well-intentioned commenter’s suggestion about Servetus’ handling of those who object to her blog. It was suggested to use password protection so that only those who really want to read the blog can do so. The commenter did not intend it to be censorship and said as much as a preface to the comment, but really, that’s what it is, and I mean absolutely no aspersion on the one who made the suggestion. It’s just that it’s hard to see it as anything else, and ironically, it would still not serve the purpose of making those who are offended happy as some would probably still read the blog. LOL!

So what’s the answer to all of this — at least in my opinion? It’s two-fold. First, go ahead fearlessly. Go for it, and don’t let someone inhibit you, and believe me, there will be those who will try. It’s a given. Second (and really this should be first), use some wisdom in lieu of locking things down. If you believe you shouldn’t post something, ask yourself why you don’t want to post it, and if someone is manipulating you into not posting, that’s almost never a good reason. Of course if it’s something that you have concluded is not appropriate, don’t post, but know that sometimes you might make a mistake. Scratch that. You will make a mistake, and if you don’t want to ever make a mistake, then don’t blog. In fact, don’t write anything, anywhere or say anything to anyone because at some point you’re going to make a mistake. [note: Mulubinba is excluded from this comment ’cause her decision is not about being manipulated, and I certainly respect it.]

In the meantime, I’m enjoying this song below, and I don’t care that it’s Katy Perry singing. If I was all caught up in who she supposedly is, I would dismiss this song. Her name alone would have the power to preclude me from ever listening to her or considering her music whenever I happen to hear it. Thankfully, I don’t think that way about music, so when I heard this, I liked it. :D

Where’s the Bunny?

September 10, 2010

It’s been almost two years since I first read the blog piece about good fans going bad and the referenced Wikipedia page about CWS (Celebrity Worship Syndrome). My cursory reading of the wiki page left me thinking there were huge gaps in the scale; I certainly knew I didn’t quite fit the descriptions. I was so disturbed by my own behavior, I didn’t want to pursue any further information about CWS. Nevertheless, when I was getting ready to start this blog, I reviewed the page, and it seems that others have taken exception to the scale. I’ve been hesitant to highlight this because it might be the ultimate rationalization for fleeing treatment of Richard Armitage addiction, but when did that ever stop me? Plus, my public service gene demands that I bring it to your attention. ;-) That way you will be prepared if someone slaps you with this.

Earlier this year someone updated that wiki page to add a section called “Critical reflection on celebrity worship and mental health.” God Bless ‘Em. (Or maybe I was so addled I missed it the first time around?) It seems the methods of research for this “syndrome” may not have been scientifically applied and the researchers biased. If I were not so busy, I might read more, but maybe someone who is inclined will take it up. All I know is that I got a little antsy when I read that one of the CWS researchers is from the University of Leicester. Uh oh. Could that be one of RA’s relatives who is exasperated with all of us? Or is he someone on the town council who’s sick of hearing that maps of H___________ need to be printed after every tour bus of Radio 4 listeners comes through, or perhaps he read about the building permit needed for the 12 foot fence around the Armitage’s backyard. I don’t know. I don’t know. But then I wondered if this professor heard about the chocolate pants. That would make me wonder about someone’s sanity, and I fleetingly wondered if I might become so far gone I would send RA some chocolate pants. Oh, hell no! Well, not if I were in my right mind. Then I realized I could devise my own scale and make it sound scientific. I did have a thing for Fred Demara. Not quite sure he was my soul mate (but maybe), so I’m certain I can figure out something that sounds scientific.

In the great tradition of the Web playing doctor, I’ve devised a scale and below it is a poll for you to assure yourself honestly assess your situation:


This comprises attitudes of fans who gain great pleasure from laughing about chocolate pants sent to a celebrity when they’re not nauseous at the thought. Sometimes they even get sick laughing as they imagine the expression on the celebrity’s face when he receives the chocolate pants. But these fans have no desire to ever send the celebrity (or anyone else) some chocolate pants as actually doing that is sickening to them and they don’t know where in hell anyone would buy them anyway. Well, maybe they wouldn’t send their own chocolate pants if they ever did know where to buy them, but maybe send them as someone else’s just to see what happens, er, rather to embrace the humor of the perceived reaction of the celebrity upon receipt of the chocolate pants as long as they are sent through the post and not by using them as a missile during an interview of the celebrity, which would require being somewhere nearby and possibly being caught out as a nut.


Intense-personal aspect of celebrity worship reflects intensive and compulsive feelings about sending chocolate pants to the celebrity, akin to the obsessional tendencies of fans often referred to in literature; for example “I share with my favorite celebrity a need to touch chocolate pants — a feeling that cannot be described in words” and “When something bad happens, I know my favorite celebrity would be refreshed by seeing some chocolate pants from me.”


This dimension is typified by uncontrollable behaviors and fantasies regarding how the chocolate pants will be presented to their celebrities, such as “I have frequent thoughts about wearing chocolate pants while standing in front of my favorite celebrity, even when I don’t want to” and “my favorite celebrity would immediately come to my rescue if something were to happen to my chocolate pants.”

Disclaimer for idiots who think this is serious: NO, nothing I’ve said about anyone in Leicester or the Armitage family is real. Well, except that one of the CWS researchers really is a professor from the University of Leicester — according to Wikipedia.

I ran across this in my uh research for this post: Inkblot Test. If you have some time, take the test. Trust me you’ll like it. And many thanks to the creators of it for the title of this piece. [Note: the title of this piece was taken from this “test”]


I HATE it when I make a horrible typo or when I realize I made a horrible typo. Will I ever get over that? LOL!

Diary of an RA Fan — Part 21 Now I’ve Done It

See Diary Part 20 here, or to access all entries, hit “The Diary” tab above.

Entry — And Still Fall, 2008:

I’m not sure I can read any more of the Armitage Army forum. There are some lovely people there, but I’m scaring myself, and then I discover this! Just the title alone has made me really stop and think about what I’m doing. But haven’t I been doing that all along the way? Haven’t I gut checked myself so much that I’ve worn myself out with it? It seems I’m so tightly bound with circumspection that I’m a small package which bores me silly. And now it seems I can’t even have a little fetish that doesn’t make me stereotypical and potentially a nut case. CWS? What the hell? I guess the first stage isn’t so bad, and that’s certainly where I fit, but just knowing there is a scale creeps me out.

A few days later:

I feel so dumb most of the time when I’m reading all of these web pages about Richard Armitage, and now I’ve made a few posts on the Army site which have sort of wearied me. All I know at this moment is that I’m tired of typing the words Richard Armitage. It feels funny to type his name. It hits me sometimes when I get to his last name that I’m almost incessantly discussing someone I do not know and never will. But somehow it feels like I know him. NOOOOO! That sounds like something further up the CW Scale. I will bust a gut before moving up that scale or even looking like I have. I don’t even want to type anything less formal than Richard Armitage. Maybe I should make that Mr. Armitage. No, that just sounds uh, I don’t know what it sounds like. A bit of the lady doth protest too much? Yeah, that would almost be like banging a gong and saying, “I’ve got a problem and need to keep my distance!”

Anything less than his full name just seems too personal. But isn’t pondering whether it’s personal kind of creepy as well? Why do I care if I’m too personal? Hell, I don’t know. I just know I’m a bit creeped out at myself, but I can’t seem to stop watching his stuff. I really do think he’s a great actor the likes of which I’m not sure I’ve ever seen. But I feel like a fool being on a fan site. It really bothers me. Mostly because it jacks with the image I have of myself. Hang what anyone else may think. The identity I embrace does not include being a fan. It’s just not me. So why the hell am I doing this, and why am I writing journal entries about it?

But the other fans are interesting, and I’m finding new sources for watching Richard Armitage’s performances. Maybe I’ll stay.

A few more days later:

I mentioned that I was curious about ‘Between the Sheets,’ and someone at the Army forum sent me a zip file of it. So I’ll get to watch it without having to order it. What am I saying?! No, if I watch it for free now, I’ll have to buy it, and I’m not sure I want to buy this. And I still hate the name of that show. No imagination. If I can submerge my conscience long enough, I’ll start watching sometime soon. What am I thinking? Besides, I’m doing a stutter step at what I’ve read on the Army site. It seems the watchword for ‘Between the Sheets’ is peaches. Whatever the hell that means. I didn’t delve any further. I don’t want to feel any dumber than I already do.

See Diary Part 22 here.