Dieux du Stade. *DEAD*

[perseph2hades]

Drop everything, friends.

My Dieux du Stade coffee table book and Making of the 2005 Calendar DVD arrived today.

I've been staring at punishing nudes of men all day and haven't stopped uttering the name of Jesus for hours. It calls for the default icon.

What am I going on about?

The French Rugby Team, Stade Français. NAKED. Photos by painter turned photographer, Francois Rousseau.

Apologies in advance for the awful scan lines.

I'm in paradise.





*gruntinggg*





*swooning*











*dead dead dead*






To quote my sister, who's been playing rugby for nearly a decade and a half: There's that whole camaraderie thing you don't get when you're on a posting or on a submarine or whatnot.

o_O No idea, people.


Look at this creature.






Is somebody kidding me?


This, meanwhile, is the beauty with whom I'll be eloping, to Mexico.



They are Italian, and they are brothers. *cries for days*




On the making-of DVD, this one twists his hips ever so delicately, all the while smiling, while waiting for the photo. *throws self off cliff*



*ggggnnnnnaaarrrggghhh*


(this is him from the back)





Then a bunch of portraits.

Look at the eyes on this sonofabitch.


This one is the spitting image of the twenty-three year old Brazilian who followed me home on my 30th birthday. agy&%^$^%ghhas,













I love this one's look. Love it love it love it.






The brothers.




My only complaint, and it is a big one, is that the younger brother's photo is not featured solo in the book, only on the cover.



From the DVD.
His name is Olivier Sarramea. He's French, he's 6'4", and I'm incoherent.








This is her job.




Therefore she wins.


*cries a river* elaur, please be so kind as to arrange the funeral service for my deceased self.