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!)
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: 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.

70. Andrew WK,
69. Jazmine Sullivan,
68. Kalomoira,
67. Chris Brown,
66. Marianne Faithfull, Black Coffee
65. Vivian Girls,
64. Duffy,
63. Dengue Fever,
62. Malcolm Middleton,
61. Britney Spears,