Will Ferrell is a Naughty Boy!

2008-06-10T22:58:54Z

I made another MV! Check it out :D

Will Ferrell mv!

2008-06-08T02:08:24Z

I made a Will Ferrell music video! Whoot! Everyone who happens across this post (saxokitty ) tell me what u think :D and yes, my icon IS that f*cking gorgeous!

Will Ferrell and Sacha Baron Cohen - Sexy Icons

2008-06-04T23:04:47Z

this won't fit as an icon but me thinks it deserves to be seen. saxokitty should appreciate this :) magie_05 I know u do! XD

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Norman McDonald and Will Ferrell .... down and dirty!

2008-06-03T04:21:57Z

Norm finds paradise and Will finds excruciating pain! Mwahahaha...

Just a day in 1954 when two dudes get to talking about sex and no women, then a lightbulb goes on... after realizing neither of them has a vagina however, Norm gets creative with Will's ASSets and Will... well... not so happy

Glamorous - Ali G/Bruno

2008-02-18T01:00:11Z

MV made by my girlfriend magpie_05 The 'Glamorous' bling concocted by me in Photoshop. I animated it to make it sparkle but for some reason, after all that hard work, WMM wouldn't open it. Fortunately it doesn't look too bad as is. This MV is a tribute of sorts to Sacha Baron Cohen. The man is extremely talented, as well as a shameless exhibitionist. For that we should all be grateful, very rarely do we find someone so blunt and bizarre of expression. Ali G and Bruno are truly clever twits (thanks for that Chloe ;3) ... Borat, he's just an idiot, and *scary*.

Enjoy, and in the words of Will Ferrell, BIG kisses :-*

~ E'lise

Chris Kattan wearing a bra and mini skirt :3

2008-02-17T07:03:41Z

Picture taken on set of 'Night at the Roxbury.' Hope Chris's fiance knows he runs around in women's clothing... i love the shiny satin sleeve, nice touch ;3 Good point, Chloe, why does Chris have two pairs of sunglasses? Wonder whose pair is tucked into his skirt? >;3 hm

Man, I'd love to see the heels Chris is wearing cuz I knowz he ain't that tall...!!! and that *skirt*. It's so *tight*. Does anyone else see any excess of details you wouldn't normally see? >>; I think I have to start reassessing my views on Chris's level of modesty... like, a lot...

Will's Gay Pride: Loud and Proud

2008-02-09T17:28:24Z

Will Ferrell: Loud and Proud - Gay Pride
Uploaded by Magpie05

Ricky/Jean gif

2008-02-07T23:47:35Z

I made this, I like it. They so pretty .^_^.

Talladega Nights FanFiction

2008-02-04T20:35:21Z

Pairing: Ricky/Jean
Title: "We Belong"
Author: Me
Disclaimer: Own absolutely nothing except plot. Characters and all that belong to Adam McKay and Will Ferrell, I'm not making any money, just having fun with characters from a movie I love~<3 R&R appreciated. Story has been edited from it's original form, improved infinitely so if you've read it once, nows the time to read it again!

Time for a Change

Jean Girard should have been happy to leave Formula One and racing altogether. After all, he was going back to France; going home with Gregory. But Jean had mixed feelings about never competing again. As husbands, Jean and Gregory were supposed to do everything together: eat, drink, sleep, travel and retire together, yes? That was the agreement they had. So Jean shouldn't have felt any remorse in leaving racing forever.

But Gregory had no intention of retiring with him. Nor were they about to travel, unless Gregory was pursuing animals no one ever trained before and one day open a circus with them. Things seemed entirely one-sided these days and Jean couldn’t help but feel cheated by this flaw. After all, it'd been Gregory’s idea that Jean leave Formula One and Nextel in the first place. Shouldn't he in return give up animal training?

“Vell, Jean my darling, vhat vould you have me do? I specifically told you I could not go on vith the career if you were spending all your time spinning around the racetrack,” said Gregory over breakfast one morning. “That vas the plan all along--”

“--That was not the plan,” Jean insisted, but Gregory made it clear the topic was closed; unfolding the morning paper, he blocked Jean from view. Jean ate his breakfast in silence, all the while wondering how he’d managed to forget such a crucial detail but never for an instant fooling himself into believing he actually had.

After he’d eaten, Jean kissed Gregory’s cheek before departing. It was a force of habit, after their wedding, to encourage husbandly love, they had to kiss whenever taking their leave of each other. Jean waited patiently for Gregory to kiss him back.

“There, you see,” said Gregory, promptly laying the newspaper on the tabletop and tapping a black and white photo of Jean holding a trophy a loft, Gregory read the headline, “’Jean Girard Retires at Head of Career.’ You couldn’t have left at a better time, you see?”

Jean nodded, uncertainly.

“Vhat is it? Vhy do you hover over me, Jean, you’re standing in my light,” Gregory demanded.

“I am waiting for you to kiss me,” Jean explained. Gregory needed to think about this before he remembered the deal then pecked Jean on the cheek, a little dismissively and went back to his paper.

Jean walked out into the garden, privately disgusted.

He’d never told Gregory his line of work didn’t interest him. Training horses or German Sheppard’s was all well and fine but even Jean had to draw the line somewhere. Humoring Gregory’s fantasies about teaching a team of ostriches to dance to the Nut Cracker was fun and games in the beginning when they were young, and they’d been so madly in love with each other that no level of insanity made the slightest difference in their respect for their partner.

Now Jean was merely fooling himself.

He’d always been afraid of hurting Gregory’s feelings; Gregory had been a precautious boy with a mind for the outrageous and the flamboyant. Jean still remembered their wedding day. It should have been the most beautiful day of his life, there should have been sun on their faces while they danced in a large, romantic garden with water fountains.

Instead they were a hundred miles below ground underneath a thermal vent and no one attending wore any clothes. To this day, Jean still inwardly seethed whenever the details of his wedding were mentioned or if he was asked to admit to any of these details. The only person who didn’t think anything of it was Gregory because it was all his idea in the first place.

With no one else to talk to this early, Jean found himself pouring his soul out to their two champion thoroughbred stallions, consequently having a more sophisticated conversation with them than he had with Gregory all morning. It wasn’t a comforting feeling in the slightest but at least they bothered to try, nudging him reassuringly with their noses.

At least someone cared about him.

Jean could not believe his lack of intimacy with his husband these days. They rarely - if ever - made love any more and on those odd occasions when something happened then Jean didn’t even know if what that was could be called sex. Jean wondered if there maybe was something repulsive about him that Gregory did not like. Once he even considered if Gregory was seeing someone else but Jean refused to believe it could be true.

Maybe this lack of intimacy was what had made Jean grow so desperate on the racetrack; why he’d flirted with his enemy, Ricky Bobby. Maybe that’s why he’d dared Ricky to kiss him. Maybe that’s why Jean had trouble not staring at Ricky’s lips… and maybe that day when Ricky had unexpectedly reciprocated, sticking his tongue down his throat on live TV, then maybe that was why Jean let him kiss him, why he’d let a man who wasn’t his husband kiss him… maybe.

“Jean,” Gregory stopped him at the door. “When Ricky Bobby kissed you that day at Talladega, did it mean anything to you?”

Jean's heart sank to the soles of his feet. “Pardon--?” He couldn't believe what he was hearing.

“Vhat are you hiding? If there’s something you vish to say to me Jean, I’ll understand. I know you’ve looked at other men before.”

Jean’s winched at these words. They stung. He thought of Talladega. He remembered the feel of the chase, and with his feet on the accelerator all's he could think about was Ricky Bobby. He just had to win. Adrenalin flying through his veins. It was an incredibly heady sensation. When Ricky had kissed him however, Jean felt the same indescribable sensation. He couldn't tell Gregory this. Instead, he just stood there, feeling foolish while his own husband questioned his fidelity.

“N-non… mon chéri,” Jean lied. He felt like a deer caught in headlights. Quietly, Gregory squinted up into Jean’s face. He had a look that said he was reading Jean like a book, especially since Jean only slipped back into his native French when he was nervous or otherwise hiding something.

After long last, Gregory simply nodded, “Das ist what I thought.”

When he walked away, Jean went upstairs. He locked himself in the master bedroom where it was quiet. He wanted to think. He spotted the telephone sitting on the table besides the bed and picked it up. He needed advice and there was only one person he ever ran to for help.He dialed then meandered over to the window and looked out over three of their nine acres of land. The gardens were expansive and always miraculously kept.

---

“You’re putting me on,” Elvis Costello’s laid back, British-accented voice greeted him. “You’re not racing anymore? And don’t say you don’t know what I’m talking about, it’s right here in the Times: Humiliated, Jean Girard Resigns from Formula One. Everyone’s talking about it and you have the nerve to leave for France now? You’ll be mauled by mobs of angry fans and paparazzi the second you get off the plane. And what about that kiss? You actually kissed Ricky Bobby?”

“He kissed me,” Jean corrected, finally able to get a word in.

There was a pregnant pause then as Elvis considered this. “So,” he began at last, “how is everything in Alabama? Bet the weather’s lovely this time of year—“

“—That’s not funny,” Jean retorted, grasping the phone to his ear with both hands. “I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”

“Since when has scandal been your weak point?” Elvis sounded mildly concerned. “I think the operator gave me the wrong gay Frenchman.” Jean considered this for a moment then shook off the stupid thought.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” despite that Elvis had a point. Jean was notably one of the most shameless exhibitionists America had yet seen or would come to know again in a great while. Not three weeks in the US and Jean was doing photo shoots for the cover of Vogue, appearing in commercials advertising Perrier, his face in the newspapers, his popularity as a model racecar driver soaring to new heights. Any insecurities Jean may have felt were safely guarded and buried away.

Yet he found something so fascinating about his rival, Ricky Bobby. He couldn’t understand why. Elvis had been his constant confidante, the one he spoke incessantly to about his feeling for the man. If this annoyed Elvis incredibly or not, his friend tried not to show it.

“Are you really leaving the racetrack for good?” Elvis continued with a hint of disbelief.

Jean fell silent again. He knew he was. Even so, “I don’t know--”

“—what you're talking about. Right.” Elvis sounded chagrined, “That’s the problem with you, Jean. You never know what you want.”

But that wasn’t true. Jean always knew what he wanted. His entire life was a tribute to that fact. He grew to wealth and fame through his determination to reach his goals… now that he had everything—

“--Now that you have everything, you’re unsatisfied. All that money and nothing to spend it on, now what?”

Jean could understand this dribble philosophy from Sting, a devout Buddhist, but from Elvis? The affect was lost a little on him.

“What do you sugest?” Jean waited. He listened to the sound of Elvis carefully folding up his addition of the Times while considering the value of his own input.

“I know how you feel about the American. I know things haven't been all gossamer with Gregory lately. I'm concerned that you're being too rash, and that your judgment is a tad impaired at the moment. You've done a good job at 'living on the edge' for a long time. Why don't you try something different? Take a break from the usual hubbub? Instead of risking your life on a racetrack, do something simpler?" Elvis paused fo emphasis.

"Like what?" Jean asked, calmly.

"Look at it this way. If I were to tell you that it’s ok to put away the pressed, hand-tailored suits once in a while and wear a pair of tight leather pants you kept shoved in the closet for five years, what would you say to me?”

Jean had to think about that one. "I would say that ... you're suggesting I wear a pair of ass-tight jeans like a common drag queen?" Elvis laughed, which made Jean feel better for some reason.

"Oh yeah, something like that."

Jean wasn’t sure what shocked him more, the idea of him in cheap clothes or that he didn't tell Elvis what Gregory said to him. However the whole pants thing was strangely intriguing. While he thought about it, his stranglehold on the telephone loosened. Thoughtfully, Jean watched a small group of sparrow take flight from a distant tree.

"One more question before I hang-up," Jean asked.

"Yes?"

Jean grinned, "What kind of clothes do you drag out of the closet on the occasion?"

To be continued...

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