John Krasinski in Boston Magazine (Update)

It’s about damn time! Finally…FINALLY I get my dream pics of my #1 TV boyfriend, John Krasinski. No my dream pics are not from some fancy photo shoot where John is wearing designer garbs or in an exotic location. In these shots the hometown boy is wearing the hometown team. Yes, John Krasinski is showing his Boston pride in Red Sox red…and Celtics green and Patriots blue, and even a little Bruins yellow and black for good measure. Fantastic! How the photographer wrangled John’s signature black baseball cap off his head is beyond me, but thank you!

John is featured on the cover of this month’s Boston Magazine (“John Krasinski and 60 Other New Reasons Boston Rules”), and the cover pic (above) and inside pics (below) are to die for.

Sorry to be going all fangirl on you, but it’s warranted here. I feel like I’ve been keeping my Krasinski love in check these days. Our little JKras is all grown up. Gone are the days when I would post about him and field the emails saying “who is this guy you’re always talking about?” He’s hit the big time now…there’s a million sites showing the love. He doesn’t need my blog love. But I don’t adore him any less, of course – hence the gushing over this photo spread (and the $10 I will spend to see Leatherheads on opening night on April 4th)

I’ll have the actual full scans of the inside shots coming tomorrow (I can’t seem to get my scanner working right now…argh), but for now I just grabbed these from the Boston Magazine website. UPDATE: Click on the small thumbnail below for the large scans from the magazine.

Oh and for your reading pleasure, here’s the article that accompanies the delish pics.

John Krasinski

We cogs in the machine—and here in Boston, that’s more than half a million of us—know that you rarely get to pick your coworkers or, for that matter, your cubicle neighbors. There’s always going to be the loud talker, the weird eater, the social butterfly who spends her days flitting from one desk to the next. Barely 8 inches separate me, for instance, from a guy who frequently chuckles to himself, and can spend hours tossing a baseball up and down. Once I thought I heard him fart. (Maybe he’s heard me, too.)

Perhaps our desk-bound existences—and the fact that we’re a town of cynics—explain Boston’s particular affinity for NBC’s hit sitcom The Office (returning this month, post-strike), in which an ensemble cast of paper-pushers deal with one another’s quirks, most of them annoying. As Jim, the amiable, moderately ambitious voice of reason, John Krasinski—who can also be seen starring this month opposite Renée Zellweger in the new Clooney-directed, football-themed romantic comedy Leatherheads—calls on dry wit and a cache of goofy looks to express the disdain he feels for his more ridiculous office-mates. Whether confined in our own offices, stranded on the Expressway, or wedged onto the Green Line, we can relate to his perpetual exasperation: It’s not me, it’s the other guy.

Of course, Krasinski never actually had an office job. Growing up the youngest of three boys in Newton, where his parents still live (mom Mary Clare is a nurse; dad Ron is an internist), he spent his afterschool hours playing sports and his summers counseling 12-year-olds at Camp Chickami in Wayland. He was the good boy—did well enough at competitive Newton South High School to get into Brown, didn’t really date, and generally behaved himself. “I was probably a wuss,” he admits. I feign surprise. “Yeah. I never wanted to get into trouble. Like on Halloween, if my friends were like, ‘Let’s go egg blah-blah-blah,’ I’d be like, ‘Aww man, I’m sick, I gotta go home.'”

Over breakfast, Krasinski works the just-rolled-out-of-bed look: shaggy hair damp on the ends, hooded sweatshirt, scruff. He’s just heard he’s nabbed the lead role in an as-yet-untitled Sam Mendes movie penned by author Dave Eggers, and we celebrate with camera-friendly egg whites and avocado (for him) and desk chair–friendly oatmeal (for me). “When someone tells me they’re from Boston, there’s a whole other level of connection,” he says, and I don’t believe he’s making a pass. “It’s like you don’t have to start with commonality. You’re just like, ‘Oh, you’re from Boston?’ Got it.” He was raised on the Celtics and the Pats , a love that’s gotten easier to pursue since he became famous: In February, he and his dad caught the Super Bowl in Phoenix (“You can’t just blame one person,” he says, then silently mouths, “Gisele!”), and over Thanksgiving, he attended a Lakers-Celtics game. “When I was in high school, those games were so boring,” he says. “Now, every single little kid has a Celtics shirt on, everybody is screaming at the top of their lungs, Donnie Wahlberg’s there freaking out. It made me feel really proud, which I didn’t expect.”

What he has come to expect is that people are paying attention. “Every once in a while, a picture will show up of me eating lunch with my buddy, or getting out of my car in my own driveway,” he says, then scans the room. For a brief moment in time—a week, really—Krasinski and the arguably better-looking and definitely much better-paid Zellweger were a tabloid item, victims of a paparazzi manipulation. “Our entire cast was going out together, but they just showed me and her,” he says of the Us Weekly story. “You know, I really made out like a bandit there. I got the better end of that deal for sure.”

Written by Alyssa Giacobbe. Photos by Jill Greenberg