Filed under: gay, porn, starfucking | Tags: fictional character starfucking, opportunities, poorly crafted filth
Several years ago, too broke to buy Christmas gifts, I wrote my best friend a novel. It’s true! But not just any novel, mind you. A pornographic Hardy Boys novel! When we stopped living together, he made a point of leaving behind any gifts I had given him in the past, and the other day I found the only physical copy of the book. It’s in manuscript form, and I had it done at Kinko’s, which means (of course) that it’s a little fucked up and one chapter starts twice and there’s some blank pages in the middle for no reason. But hey, whatever!
Anyway, the book is no good to me and actually pretty embarrassing and frankly I wouldn’t mind getting it out of my life. But if you’ve ever wanted to read about violent bathroom stall sex, brother-on-brother whoopie, or a mystery woman based loosely around Goldie Hawn’s character in Housesitter, send me something dirty. A story, some photos, something you drew on a napkin, whatever. It can be your creation or someone else’s, although if it’s someone else’s I’m going to want documentation of where you got it from (who wrote it, photographed it, whatever.) Whoever sends me the most interesting thing by next Monday at 5pm wins. E-mail your entries to yurigellerbentme@gmail.com
Filed under: hot, in praise of athletic beauty, starfucking | Tags: detroit red wings, henrik zetterberg, hockey, starfucking
Though I would be lying if I told you I had more than the most superficial interest in hockey, that’s not to say that I’m completely ignorant of its charms. It’s pretty much the only sport I like to watch in person, for one, and NHL games make a lot more sense to me now that half the games don’t end up with a tie. I still don’t understand why the season drags into June when it should be over by, I don’t know, early April, but really who am I to say.
Anyway, the Stanley Cup might be decided tomorrow. Detroit’s up 3-2 over Pittsburgh in the finals, and if the Red Wings win tomorrow they’ll keep the trophy for the second consecutive year.
One of Detroit’s superstar players–and the reason I’m writing this post–is Henrik Zetterberg, the Swedish left wing. Last year he won the Conn Smythe trophy, which goes to the most valuable player in the post-season, and this year he’s scored 24 points during the playoffs. More importantly, he’s a total hunk. After the jump, Exhibits A-I, showing why this man does things to me. He’s a little bit Jared Leto-y, as many have noted, but clean-shaven he also looks a lot like Bobby Briggs. Obviously I prefer him with his beard, though.
(nb: That’s his girlfriend, Emma Andersson, in the next picture. Holy botox!)
Though he was all the rage in the gay blog world about a year ago, I never noticed HGTV electrician Marc “Sparky” Bartolomeo until this morning, when I stumbled across his early modeling photos while I was looking for something else entirely. I’m normally not attracted to anyone on TV, even when I feel like I should be (ie. the guy that drives the Cash Cab.) But still photos are more interesting, anyway.
Bartolomeo is cute, in an ordinary Italian guy-next-door sort of way, but these photographs are almost all really awesome, for himbo model pictures (which normally I can’t stand, really.)
Pics, including one with a butt and one with a penis and one with some underball, after the jump.
[via Dwight Supremacy]
Filed under: Italians, gay, heterosexuals, in praise of athletic beauty, movies, music, starfucking, tv
So, everybody’s talking about Bromance, and Momma’s Boys, and that show where former teen idols all live in a house together–or, you know, blogs are talking about them, anyway–and I was thinking that maybe I wouldn’t have spent the last decade hating reality TV so much if every reality show were a) this gay and b) this focused on dudes with their shirts off all the time. Also, Michael on Momma’s Boys is wicked hot in an “I’m-drunk-and-wish-Elimidate-still-existed” sort of way. Because I saw a little bit of that (ridiculous, ridiculous) program the other night.
Anyway, I came up with my own concept for a reality show. Let’s see what yo think:
Ten celebrity types on different rungs of the fame ladder all live in a house together. Every day they get up to go to work, but here’s the catch: They don’t know what their job is going to be until they open their closet doors and find a uniform, placed there in the middle of the night by the show’s producers and/or the wacky female host (What’s Downtown Julie Brown doing these days?)
There will be gratuitous clothes-changing sequences as the guys put on their uniforms and wonder aloud how anyone could ever expect them to be a UPS driver/mechanic/fireman/priest/marine/flight attendant/basketball player/boy scout/crewman on the Enterprise/telephone repairman. Then they will go off, separarely, to perform whatever package delivery/auto repair/firefighting/marriage ceremony/acts of unnecessary violence/demonstration of oxygen masks/athletic feats/knot-tying/sci-fi shenanigans/hanging out in a cherrypicker needs to be done. At the end of the day, they will return back to the house to change out of their uniforms, allowing for more opportunities for unneccessary underwear footage. This will be called “changing for dinner,” and the dudes will all switch into tuxes, just because. Downtown Julie Brown will serve them a dinner that she will pretend to have made herself, and the guys will talk about their days. Then, afterwards, they’ll all retire to the sauna (you see where this is going) and through some elaborate and completely unnecessarily formalities one of them will be “eliminated” and forced to leave the house. Then there will be a confessional type sequence where, dressed only in towels, the men will tell the camera how completely unfair their elimination was.
Here are my picks for the first cast:
Here’s Chris Johnson. He was nominated for, and lost, the AVN Award for Best Male Newcomer last night. I found this picture on his Myspace after much searching, because the man’s name is Chris Johnson. He’s cute enough, I guess; according to his Myspace, he’s a skydiving instructor, too, and he has terrible taste in music. (Who knew anybody still liked Fat Joe?)
The AVN Awards there are four separate categories for male performers and, as I mentioned, far, far too many nominees in each category for it to mean anything. So rather than entertaining you with pictures of all fifteen nominees in the Male Foreign Performer category, say, I thought I’d just stick to the eleven nominees in the Best Male Newcomer field. Well, most of them anyway. In addition to Mr. Johnson up there (of whom I couldn’t find any more revealing pictures) there’s one D-Snoop, who I could find zero visual evidence of. He’s been in 63 titles, though, according to the Internet Adult Film Database, including Mandinka Parties and I Can’t Believe You Sucked A Negro 2. He’s also been in movies since 2005, so I’m not sure why he’s new, but whatever.
After the jump, a big peen party and much physical objectification. Yay!
Sorry, no time for pictures to accompany the list today, so you’ll have to do without terrible formatting and thumbnails ganked from bands’ Myspaces.* Had to drop the boyfriend at the airport this morning and now I need to do some Christmas shopping. Yay.
[*UPDATE: There's pictures now! After looking at last year's list I decided going the last.fm route was a lot more aesthetically pleasing than the Myspace thumbnails, though three of these 10 artists didn't have pictures big enough to match.]
50. The Ian Carey Project, Get Shaky
Though I normally can’t abide house music, there’s something about this Baltimore DJ’s clubby anthem that makes me ridiculously happy. I think it’s the Knife-like vocals, though I like the word shaky as the object of a command, too. (I’m sure there’s a grammatical term for this, and that I had to learn that term in seventh grade, but right now I can’t think of what the hell it would possibly be called.)
49. GIRLS (nyc), And If You Go
Two bands named Girls emerged this year: a San Francisco group that I’ve never heard, but who ended up on Pitchfork’s Songs of the Year list, and the New York duo who made this song, a gloomy sort of love song that sounded just right in the year that the Jesus and Mary Chain reformed and Raveonettes finally put out their first great full-length.
48. Baustelle, Charlie fa surf
I came across Baustelle while researching a radio show I was doing for St Joseph’s day. A bunch of Italian indie bloggers declared them the greatest thing since sliced foccaccia and I can see why. While most of the music to come out of my (great grandparents’) mother country are on the dated and ersatz side, Baustelle’s indie-pop sounds at least like it was aware of Western culture since about 2000. Sadly, though, I only know Italian cuss words and so the only lyrics I can make out are ‘baseball’ and ’surf’ and ’skate’ and ‘filma di porno.’
47. Fall Out Boy, I Don’t Care
Though I thought FOB were a bunch of jerky douchebags when they first appeared, I’ve since come to accept them, and, periodically, rock out like a nine-year old to some of their songs. I Don’t Care took the pounding guitars that made Pink and Katy Perry so annoying this year and made them into a dopey but awesome rock track. Despite myself, I even like how dorky Patrick Stump sounds when he sings the line about the guitar screaming like a fascist. And, semi-relatedly, I briefly entertained thoughts about banging Pete Wentz the other day after reading about his Howard Stern appearance. (Though I doubt I could ever enjoy myself sleeping with him, since I’d probably spend the whole time thinking about ShleeSimp and/or her creepy father.)
46. Silje Nes, Searching, White
My favorite track on Norwegian Silje Nes’ debut album is the most unusual; while most of the album is about cooing and tiny sounds taking up vast planes of space, Searching, White is two minutes of noise, all droning and kicky drums and pretty but indecipherable vocals. It sounds like like a club track written by Hope Sandoval.
45. Lady GaGa, Boys Boys Boys
My favorite track on GaGa’s debut The Fame is also the poppiest, in the old-school sense. Behaving like a bad girl (and demanding eggs in the morning, bless her heart) can’t stop GaGa from singing like it’s 1989. Seriously, American pop radio hasn’t had melodies like this (barring certain Gwen Stefani singles and Nelly Furtado album tracks) in almost two decades. And while Poker Face eventually grew on me, it doesn’t come close to Boys Boys Boys in terms of poppy goodness.
44. Last Shadow Puppets, My Mistakes Were Made For You
I’ll take Vanity Side Projects I Didn’t Think Would Be Good At All But Which Sound Like Odessey And Oracle and Thankfully Not Like The Overrated Arctic Monkeys for $400, Alex. It was hard for me to pick a favorite track from The Age of the Understatement, a solid album of moody, sixties-inspired pop songs from one Arctic Monkey and one Little Flame. Eventually I went for this one, but probably because it’s the most recent single and the one I’ve heard the most lately.
43. The Breeders, German Studies
I never got the Breeders album that came out last spring, though my roommate did and I heard him playing it during the earlier months of this year. I love pretty much everything the Breeders do, but the track that really stood out for me featured Kim Deal singing in German. It sounded about as natural as those old Spanish Pixies songs, but it doesn’t matter because it’s so darn catchy.
42. Girls Aloud, Can’t Speak French
Unlike Kim Deal, Girls Aloud are freely willing to admit that they sing best en anglais. This song went on for about thirty seconds too long, I think; there’s only so many times a chorus should be repeated, and it’s slightly less than 5000, thank you. Still, it was one of the big hits of last winter (for me, anyway) and I liked it a lot more than The Promise, the only track I’d heard from Out of Control before I started making this list.
41. Manda Rin, DNA
“Gimme action and drama,” went a 1999 Bis hit. “Give me 80s Madonna.”
I’ve tried to explain this before, so sorry if I’m being repetitive, but DNA is what Madonna should be doing right now. Former Bis frontwoman Manda Rin makes cute, poppy, optimistic dance-rock; this song and Guilty Pleasure could have made perfect Madonna singles. If Hard Candy sounded like this song I would have been all over it; instead, I had to settle for an album whose best track was the clunky and awkward Give It 2 Me.
Filed under: heterosexuals, lists, music, starfucking | Tags: 2k8, gruff rhys, late of the pier, sage francis, tall firs, ti
I went to bed somewhat tipsy last night after yet another Christmas party, but my body clock for whatever reason thought it would be fun to wake me up at 4 AM. So, now it’s about five in the morning and I’m in a cold kitchen writing in my blog when I should be sleeping in a warm bed. But regardless, here’s 10 more of my favorite songs of the year:
60. TI, Whatever You Like
Though TI was the celebrity I had the most dirty fantasies about this year,* I actually wasn’t so into his Paper Trail album. I mean, when a dreamy pile of hot hot man does a duet with Rihanna and leaves me feeling sort of meh things can’t be right, can they? Still, Whatever You Like was a pretty cool song, though I can’t help thinking about it in this incarnation. And thankfully, it bears no relation to the Nicole Scherzinger song of the same title, on which TI guest rapped on last year.
[*About which more later.]
59. Neon Neon, Raquel
Neon Neon’s album Stainless Style isn’t aging well for me. Initially I thought half of it (Rachel, I Lust U, Belfast, I Told Her on Alderaan…) was awesome and half of it (the song about sweatshops, the Sean Na Na guest appearance) was grody and awful. Now I’m not really into any of it, with the exception of I Lust U and this song, which contains the hilarious Bedazzled-referencing line “Oh Raquel, you fill me with interia. Yes you do!”
58. Amadou and Mariam, Sabali
As a general rule I’m not into any kind of world music at all, and I can’t say I’m familiar with (or interested in) the music of Mali enough to have a strong opinion about fifty-something blind couple Amadou and Mariam. But I will say that this Damon Albarn-produced song was weird enough–with super-high singing at the beginning and then just talking during the second half, and keyboard bits that sound lifted from PBS kids programming–that I listened to it a lot anyway.
57. Sneaky Sound System, UFO
This song is older than I thought–it came out in Australia over a year-and-a-half ago–but I only discovered it a month or two ago when it was released as a single in the UK. While they’ve yet to make a dent in America the way Cut Copy or the Presets did, Sneaky Sound System made one of the better electro jams to come out recently, in that sort of Dragonette/New Young Pony Club way where you like their songs but feel like you’d probably want to slit your wrists if you ever had to hang out with them.
56. Tall Firs, Hairdo
Things I have weaknesses for: a) Thurston Moore’s totally neglected Trees Outside The Academy album; b) any song with the word hairdo in it (ie. Hobart Paving, I’m A Slut, Karma Police, Inbetweener, etc.) c) the word bangin’, when applied to women by nerdy men who should know better. Naturally then, I loved this song, a very Trees Outside The Academy-esque number (released on Moore’s Ecstatic Peace album) where the Brooklyn trio repeatedly say both “hairdo” and “you’ve got a bangin’ sister.” Really, I should have probably put this one higher up on the list, though their pleasant Too Old To Die Young album came out nine months ago and I associate it with the distant past (ie. my awful old job) and almost forgot it came out this year.
55. Late of the Pier, Heartbeat
Late of the Pier’s Fantasy Black Channel, along with the Solange album, is at the top of my list of things to buy as soon as I’m less broke. I only know the English quartet’s singles, and not even all of those. Heartbeat’s my current favorite, a jerky tune with sweet guitars and Gang of Four-style talk-singing. I’m not sure what this song’s about–a heartbeat? a vicar? a lime?–but I wish I did, if that makes any sense.
54. NERD, Everyone Nose
Okay, so this song was more entertaining eight to ten months ago. But whatever. Just because the follow-up wasn’t so hot doesn’t mean this song wasn’t stupidly fun (and funny) when it was first released.
53. Fergie, Clumsy
Originally released in September of ‘07, I didn’t actually hear this song until much, much later, probably because my ears were probably clogged with blood from one too many listens of Fergie’s Big Girls Don’t Cry,* which is still possibly the Worst Song of the Bush Era. Clumsy, on the other hand, was breezy and fun, sampling both Little Richard and Deee-Lite and turning one of Fergie’s worst attributes (her lack of singing voice and tendency to sound like metal objects being crushed together) into a wonderfully noisy chorus, with the Ferg’s voice blown out beyond reason and the sample persistently reminding you that the girl can’t help it.
[*By which I mean one listen.]
52. Heather Nova, Ride
Heather Nova hasn’t graced one of my year-end countdowns since her commercial breaktrhough in 1995. I actually threw her Oyster album on recently while I was cleaning my kitchen and surprised myself by still loving and knowing the words to every song (though my CD did skip a lot during Truth and Bone, which I thought was always the best one.)
Anyway, I read an interesting review of her new album on Wears The Trousers and found Ride streaming on her website. It’s a ballad, totally out of step with the year 2008 but quite lovely nonetheless, albeit in a slightly embarrassing way. I didn’t realize how much I liked it that first day until I walked away from the computer and left the stream of that one song looping for almost an hour before I thought to put something else on.
51. Dan le Sac vs Scroobius Pip, Thou Shalt Always Kill
I first heard this at the end of last year when the wonderfully grumpy Ed Slota listed it as his fifth favorite song of 2007. Like many things on his list, Thou Shalt Always Kill was unfamiliar to me and, annoyingly, unreleased in the US. Well, fast forward nine months, and suddenly uberhunk Sage Francis is releasing DlSvSP’s Angles album on his Providence-based Strange Famous label. It’s a good album in a very British way, with, you know, dry wit and Radiohead and Dizzee Rascal samples. It might be a bit epic for too many repeated listens, though Thou Shalt Always Kill–which features lots of important wisdom, ie. “Thou shalt not question Stephen Fry”–hasn’t gotten any less funny in the year since I’ve first heard it.
Filed under: hot, lists, music, starfucking, the dan fogelberg and hair metal decade, tv | Tags: 2k8, beards, chris brown, malcolm middleton
Sorry for the ugly layout on these; probably I should be Photoshopping, or not including pictures at all, to make this less ugly. But anyway. Here’s songs 70-61.
(And tomorrow’s list almost definitely will be delayed. I’m helping somebody move in the morning and then working in a holiday craft store thing after that.)
70. Andrew WK, McLaughlin Groove
Sometimes big things come in small packages. In this case, a fifty-one second song made up up things said on the McLaughlin Group. Death comes in the night on little cat’s feet, indeed.
69. Jazmine Sullivan, Bust Your Windows
Okay, so the lyrics are lacking here: “You probably think that it was juvenile/But I think that I deserve to smile.” But whatever, it’s the combination of female-revenge saga mixed with the ballroom music (Hit ‘Em Up Style meets Shirley Bassey’s Get The Party Started) that means this will surely be a big hit on the gay karaoke circuit for years to come.
68. Kalomoira, Secret Combination
While I eventually got to be okay with Armenia’s second-place Qele Qele, I really can not fathom how this song placed third in Eurovision and that ridiculous Russian Timbaland-produced ice skating trainwreck won. I mean sure, this song by Grecian Long Islander Kalomoira sounds like it’s from the year 2000, but then, this is Eurovision, so maybe it was just a little too hip and edgy for people to handle.
67. Chris Brown, Forever
Okay, so it was actually a Wrigley-financed gum commercial disguising itself as a mid-tempo R&B song. But shut up, it was still good. I think Chris Brown’s has a lot more talent than most people give him credit for, and this is just one example of the quality songs he consistently puts out.
66. Marianne Faithfull, Black Coffee
Marianne Faithfull’s new album, which may or may not be out right now, is a rather stirring collection of dirges featuring a variety of celebrity guest musicians. It’s available in 10 and 18-song versions, and the latter’s the way to go since that’s where the Jarvis Cocker duet is, as well as Faithfull’s great versions of Morrissey’s Dear God Please Help Me and this song, which sounds perfect coming from her can opener-like voice.
65. Vivian Girls, Tell The World
Since Saturday Looks Good to Me went down the crapper and I’m not actually sure what the Aislers Set are up to these days, the Vivian Girls officially now fill the void in my life where dubbed Girls In The Garage cassettes used to be.
64. Duffy, Rain On Your Parade
I hate deluxe editions of albums. A lot. But, annoyingly, at least three songs on the countdown were singles tacked-on to albums fading from the spotlight. (See also #67 and one yet to come.) Rain On Your Parade, Duffy’s James Bond homage, was slick and calculated (and a million times better than that Jack White/Alicia Keys mess), and it ended up being (by far) Duffy’s best single.
63. Dengue Fever, Mr. Orange
I wasn’t as into Dengue Fever’s Venus On Earth album as much as I thought I would be, considering how often I played 2005’s Escape From Dragon House; the newer record drags a little, and there’s not enough of singer Chhom Nimol’s Khmer-language freak-outs. Luckily there’s the lively Mr Orange, the last (and best) song on the album, to make up for some of the slower numbers in the middle.
62. Malcolm Middleton, Stay
Madonna covers can be an iffy thing; if you’re not Ciccone Youth, there’s a very good chance that the song is going to be horrible. (See: Kelly Osbourne’s Papa Don’t Preach, andthing by Mad’house, etc.) Luckily, mopey Scottish troubadour Malcolm Middleton covered Stay, a 1984 album track, rather than one of her better-known songs. It’s surprisingly moving, coming from half of the over-sexed Arab Strap. His version’s all folksy and contemplative where Madonna’s is produced within an inch of its life.
61. Britney Spears, Womanizer
I was revolted the first time I heard Bloc Party’s Mercury. The chorus was soooooooo repetitive, and the whole pitch-shifting thing annoyed the hell out of me. Little did I expect that just two months later Britney Spears would do pretty much the same thing and I would love it. It’s not her best song by any means, but it’s still insanely catchy.
Filed under: heterosexuals, starfucking | Tags: chicago, in praise of athletic beauty, ryan dempster
Now that I don’t work every Sunday and every Monday night, I decided that once and for all I was going to become a football fan. But I’ve had three Sundays of freedom now and I’ve only managed to watch half of two games. I keep forgetting that it’s on, even though I really like the idea of spending an afternoon looking at muscly dudes in spandex pants running around and knocking each other down.
In theory, even if I’m not watching it, I like football. There’s eleven guys on a team on the field at any given moment, and they’re all running around and passing or catching or defending or executing complicated strategies. There are sixteen games in a season, which means that every game counts if you want to make it to the playoffs.
Contrast that with baseball. In baseball there’s like 40000 games in a season, which means that individual games don’t mean jack until you’re in the last two weeks of the season. Also, there’s not much strategy to deal with, since unlike the 11-on-11 football setup, the baseball field is a gloomy 9-on-1 situation. Although at least 5 or 6 of those 9 are just standing there at any given moment. And there’s 8 other people just sitting on the bench, waiting for their turn.
LAME. BORING AND LAME. Unless you just like baseball for the infinite amount of statistics that its games generate. Which is NERDY.
However, there was a time when baseball, at least visually, wasn’t totally boring. It was before my lifetime (which included a childhood full of dull, dull baseball movies like Field of Dreams and Rookie of the Year and The Sandlot and Major League and Major League 2 and that one about angels that had the lady from My Left Foot in it.)
It was the seventies. Back when baseball players had awesome facial hair. I’ve talked about this in passing before, but baseball was way more exciting when dudes at least had giant sunburns and handlebar moustaches to distract from the fact that baseball is REALLY FUCKING DULL.
However, at least one baseball player seems to realize the potential of some good facial hair:
In the video for Estate di citta, the new Marracash single:
I mean really. He’s still cute, though, even if the song doesn’t particularly ring my bells. The part at the two-minute mark made me LOL, by the way.
