Slivfug

I am so excited for you guys to see this. I am so excited about it that I actually turned to Heather at a party we were attending last night and whispered, “I can’t WAIT to go home and write about Sharon Stone!”

Because it all started with this:

She looks like a spy who’s about to burst into a Fosse routine in celebration of finally nabbing her man, complete with hat-related choreography. And truly that would be enough for me — the leather! The lipstick! The headgear! I’m happy. But because someone loves me, that turned into THIS:

And THAT turned into THIS OH MY GOD I WISH I COULD PUT IT AFTER YET ANOTHER JUMP SO YOU COULD EXPERIENCE THIS REVEAL IN ALL ITS GLORY:

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

CAN YOU BELIEVE THIS? I have no words. I have a lot of punctuation marks and some emoticons to express how I feel about it, but words are insufficient. She looks like a flasher crossed with a madam married to the Maidenform heiress times a hired killer plus a beautiful but unskilled small town chanteuse mixed together with a whole lot of crazy and served on a plate made of sweet fancy awesome. I WANT MORE.