I want pie

Good God, Mary-Louise Parker. You are just going to have to stop being this sexy. It’s ridiculous. It’s distracting. It’s ridiculously distracting. How am I expected to get any work done? How am I expected to form complete sentences? I mean, I’ve even broken one of my cardinal (though, really, I prefer bluejays) rules and post pictures of you twice in one week. But if you insist on making cherry pie in black, lacy panties and flashing your business (front and back, you spoil us with your generosity), I will be forced to post the pictures. You leave me no other choice. [NSFW, naturally, but you already looked at the first one so why stop now? And, while you’re at it, click any and all to enlarge. You can thank me later.]

Look, MLP, you’re even making me for the first (and hopefully last) time spontaneously break into Warrant lyrics. Because your cherry pie is most definitely making this grown woman cry. I am going to ignore the fact that these photos accompany a “Thank You Note to Men” you wrote for the August issue of Esquire. Men are so needy, they have to be singled out and praised like puppies (no offense, fellas). But us ladies, we know implicitly that you’re thankful for us, too. And, sweet merciful Zeus, are we ever thankful for you. The only way this could possibly get better is if you tucked us into bed, gave us a nice cup of milk and read us a bedtime story – in those panties. Oh, wait. Well, fuck, now you’ve got me quoting the Eurythmics. Sweet dreams are made of this, indeed.