Ian looks like an expectant groom. Okay, who wants to be at that altar?

Mmm. That is a work of art.

This, my friends, is intellectual!Ian. I think I heard he was about nineteen when that got taken. Dude, where was I?! (I was fifteen and in America; he was nineteen in Australia. It wouldn't have worked out. Granted, now I am still in America, but that is irrelevant because I'm LEGAL...!)

"Hello. My name is Ian. I have a sexy accent. I enjoy long walks on the beach and swimming. My hair is prettier than yours."

Um. Yes.

When asked if he has anything to say about the Paul Hamm controversy, Ian responds with a resounding, "Wha?"

Oh, good Lord. There is something about a man in a suit and wearing a fedora that kills me. Consider me dead. (or not.)

[using fake French accent] "Ahh, Pieter! Don't you vant to kess moi?"
Don't ask. Really, don't ask. Google "thoogie" and you may find your answer.

Even ridiculously hot swimmers need to wear their sunscreen. That doesn't mean that we still can't point and laugh at them.

This was the first picture of Ian I ever saved. Honest. Then I uploaded it to get it off my desktop and avoid questions from the other residents of the house. I didn't want to have to explain the reasoning behind a practically nude guy on my hard drive (oh my. Double entendre.). I'm turning all psychobabbly now, so I'm shutting up.

I have had a thing for men with longish hair for the majority of my young life. Don't know why; can't explain it. Some guys can work it, some can't. Ian can work it. Oh yes he can.

Tiffany*: Hey Ian, you wanna run away with me and elope in Vegas?
Ian: [raises hand]
*--Tiffany is my friend and partner in Ian and Johnny lust.

Imagine seeing that face after a night of... excitement. Sounds mighty good, huh?

Herb Ritts took this picture. Bless you, Herb. You were a genius, and this is more proof of that fact.

In about .5 seconds, all those screaming, camera-weilding girls are going to leap over that barrier and try to jump him. Or not.

Mmm. I wouldn't mind letting him teach me to swim... and surf...

Ian and I have developed a secret signal. To let me know that he's thinking of me, he does that. Uh huh. Step back, haters, the Aussie is mine.

Tongue. Mmmm, tounge. And I probably mispelled that word, but hey, can you blame me?

"You can't beat me; I'm a rock star, I'm sitting in the back of a cop car... it's almost over now, almost over now..." [/N.E.R.D. lyrics]

Errr, no comment. There are no words.

Maybe it's because I'm a photographing geek, but guys with cameras? Hot. Instant hotness. It should come in a package like instant mac and cheese. Well, okay, maybe not, but now I'm just rambling.

I'll bet that in some country somewhere, that is an obscene gesture.

I know GettyImages will probably have my ass for this BUT HOLY COW, COULD IAN LOOK ANY SEXIER HERE.

"WEST SIIIIIIDE! WEST SIIIIIIIIIDE!"

Anyone want to theorize about what's going on here? Ian looks like he got caught red-handed, Michael Phelps is apparently trying to sneak away, and Pieter van den Hoogenband has an "oh, shit" look on his face. Slashers, take the bait.

I am guessing that Ian's mental MP3 player is playing "I'm Too Sexy" about now. And I wholeheartedly concur.

IAN! For shame! You have gone trendoid on me!