Subway Ad of the Week

Suddenly I want a Gatoraide.

Queen!

Green!

Get Painted! Everyone's Doing It!

Body Art

Flags!

My Every Dream Come True

I am utterly beside myself with how totally freakin' hawt GuysWithiPhones.com is. Nerdgasm! (Not safe for work. Duh.)

I Want To Be This Gay

Do You Fear Being Raped By A Huge Rodent?

Well apparently you should....



If you prefer your soft porn with a smidge less rats and sexual assault, try the Just Teasing Gallery over at Model Mayhem, my new favorite web site.







Oh ... they have girls, too. You'll have to find them on your own. I can't be bothered.

All The News That's Fit To Print

The New York Times is getting into the gun-toting, gay, twink soft porn business. Awesome.



I swear I didn't Photoshop this. Really.
It was on the NYTimes home page. Really.

"Available At Bloomingdales"

I'm so glad to finally see Bloomingdales getting into the rent boy business.

One of these things is just like the other

On the right is Nate, my friend Seth's fiance. On the left is Daniel, a friend Seth invited to visit them in NYC.



Does anyone else find the fact these two guys look nearly identical suspicious?



Whatever, boys, you're adorable. I guess we'll let it slide. But don't think we're not on to you, Seth.

Join Me Sunday Night for a Free Dance Performance and Poi Afterward

Sunday night, weather permitting, I'm going to see Los Vivancos perform free in Battery Park.





This fabulous free show is sponsored by The Joyce Theater. For more info and to make sure it's not rained out check this calendar.

The show is at 7:30pm.
I'll arrive around 6:30pm to stake out a spot. (map)
Contact me if you'd like to join my dinner group at 5:00pm.
Poi will be spun afterward.
There will likely be other silliness.

If we absolutely must have a new 90210 ...

... may we please have an actual gay character this time instead of one that's just "confused"?

No Fair! Mom! Make Him Stop!

Mario Lopez made fellow Chorus Line cast member Nick Adams put on a baggy sweatshirt because he's upset that Nick's biceps are bigger.



Mario Lopez is a whiny little bitch.



Fucking little brat.



Whatever. I'd still do him.

Yup, Can't Do That Either

You can add this pose of a Desir gymnast warming up to the 300 other things I saw this weekend that I will never be able to do.

The Physicality of Performance

This weekend I saw Desir, an erotic, adult circus of acrobats and gymnasts. It plays at Spiegel World, the wonderful German-style, performance-art circus tent at the South Street Seaport.



And I finally saw Naked Boys Singing, the all dancing, all singing, all naked musical that has run in New York City for 10 years.


The sex appeal of these shows is obvious. But after the titillation of fit bodies stripped bare waned I noticed something else entirely ... the physicality of performance.

Singing, dancing and even just speaking in a stage voice all require quite a lot of physical exertion. The signs of this exertion, however, are usually concealed by costumes and makeup. Watching the performers in these two shows and the athletes in the Olympics I've been fascinated by how the body moves and works to achieve these feats.

Singers' diaphragms rise and fall. Gymnasts' muscles become taught and ropey revealing the fibers. Dancers' and swimmers' expanding and contracting chests reveal their huge lung capacity and voracious need of oxygen.

But even the subtle signs are interesting, the tense of abdominals needed to project a voice in a theater, the sheen of sweat on a chest or a small of the back, and the little flourishes of movement used to maintain balance. By the end of his Naked Boy Singing solo song and dance number, one of the actor's whole body flushed the most adorable shade of pink.

From now on when I go to the theater, I'll be picturing the performers naked ... and not for my usual reasons.

One of these things is not like the others

Since when do we let white guys into our city's roving bands of break-dancing acrobats?



In 16 years in New York City, I have never once seen a white guy in one of these troupes. I stopped to watch figuring, "These Latin and black boys all have fantastic rhythm. If they let in a white guy, he must be awesome." He wasn't. He sucked. He wasn't even trying. He looked like a bored backup singer for a crappy lounge act.

So very, very confused.

Hi-Def Olympics Pics

You're welcome.

It Came From Craigslist

If you enjoyed,

"Want it from behind while you play Super Mario Brothers?"

Then you'll love,

"Guide to Gay Personals Ads"

and

"My roommate is obese and I am looking to have an intervention."

You're welcome.

Does This Lipgloss Make Me Taste Gay?

Casual Athletic Nudity

Swimmers like Greg Louganis and Michael Phelps seem so comfortable showing their bodies to the world. Asked about it, athletes usually say something simple like, "that's the uniform."



I never understood this unselfconscious until I started spinning poi. If I leave my shirt on, it will just get sweaty and gross. So I take it off. It's not so much I'm dying to show my fuzzy navel to the world. It's just the uniform.

While poi has made me more confident about my body, an underwear model I ain't. But I'm feeling much less of an all-knees-and-elbows, gangly, awkward nerd these day. Thanks, poi.



At the Olympics, ancient Greeks would perform completely nude. But there was one taboo. It was considered indecent to show the glans of the penis. So to prevent it from accidentally slipping out, athletes would tie a kynodesme, a small string, around their foreskins, ensuring it would stay inside.

Hot Sculpture on Sculpture Action

There are a striking number of man on man sculptures in Florence with a strong domination theme. I gotta say, it's pretty hot.












Art historians wonder if the man on the bottom of this Michelangelo sculpture is a self-portrait of the artist.



Hmmmm ... let's see ... a guy with a beard with a hot young man on top of him.
Yeah, my money says that's Michelangelo.

David Mania, Delicious and Disasterous

There so much more to be said about David. But I wanted to separate the sincere from the sarcastic. Ready for a huge helping of tragic and tacky? Here we go....

There is entertainment to be had while viewing the David. The slightly uncomfortable looks on the American frat boys' faces betray their delicious inner turmoil. "Dude, I'm being told to look at a naked man as an object of beauty. I don't know how to cope with this."

It seems other people are curious about the model as well. Here's a fascinating bit of visual speculation about David.

The whole city of Florence is in the grip of David Mania. Now, when I say the whole city, really I mean tourists and the vendors who sell them crap. I'm sure the locals wouldn't touch this stuff any more than I would.

Some of it is done with a certain charm and affection. David Reloaded by Maria Paola Pozzoli offers many reinterpretations of David.

CARTIER DAVID


DISCO DAVIDS


DEVIL AND ANGEL DAVIDS


GAY PRIDE DAVID


and my favorite ...

ROCKY HORROR DAVID


Remember Mel Brooks' merchandising pitch? "Spaceballs the T-Shirt, Spaceballs the Coloring Book, Spaceballs the Lunchbox, Spaceballs: the Breakfast Cereal and Spaceballs: the Flame Thrower"

It seems the world's most famous set of cock and balls needed this treatment. And since the official museum gift shop is not inclined to serve this crass market, Florence street vendors offer David's not-so privates on everything.

DAVID'S JUNK THE APRON


DAVID'S JUNK THE POSTCARD


DAVID'S JUNK THE PUZZLE


DAVID'S JUNK THE POSTCARD WITH SUNGLASSES


There's really no end to it. It's pretty horrifying but I have to admit there's a little part of me that likes it. Florence may well be the only city in the world where man parts are proudly displayed on every street corner. That's awesome.

The View from Ponte Vecchio

The Perfect Form

I saw the David today. Again, photography is both prohibited and superfluous, he must be experienced.

I deliberately chose to view David last in the small museum where he lives. As I entered the long hall I delayed looking at him for a few moments, to clear my mind and breath in the anticipation of what I knew would be a moment to remember for all of my days. I wanted to savor the experience and to take this mental image as the last of my trip.

There and so many details you don't see in pictures of David ... the veins in his arms and hands, the squiggly little tufts of hair in his sideburns, the way the sling wraps all the way around his body, the stone concealed in his hand, the perfect lines and curves in his muscles, his foreskin, his eyebrows, his elegant fingers, his cute little navel and his pensive, faraway gaze.



(This photo is from Wikipedia.)

A fit male body is a thing of beauty. And I don't think Michelangelo was as much a fan of biblical myth as he was a connoisseur of the male form. David is exquisite.

I wonder if the model was a real man, one whom Michelangelo admired, loved or perhaps even worshiped. Or maybe David represents an ideal, the artist taking the best features of many men to create the perfect man. One thing is clear from his years of labor and the pinnacle of art David represents, this was a work of devotion. Michelangelo adored David. It reminds me what love feels like.

Sleepy Muffins at the Galleria degli Uffizi

Ciao, Venice! Arrivederci, Venice!

Our day and a night and a day whirlwind tour of Venice started with our studly taxi-boat driver taking us up the Grand Canal.



Who's a big lug? You are! Yes, you are!



These holiday snaps don't really capture the experience.

VENICE SELF PORTRAIT


This was the view from the roof deck of our B&B.



Venice offers absurdly quaint streets full of absurdly hot men, like the rest of Italy.



The streets are also full of lost tourists peering at maps.



San Marco Square is every bit as picturesque as the movies promise. For me the movie is Moonraker. I know it's nerdy and kitsch and Roger Moore is not among our more beloved Bond actors. I don't care. Drax was an awesome villain and the 007 gondola/hovercraft chase rocked!



Sadly this place is positively overrun. I'm told lovely photos and a little peace may be had at dawn. I wasn't motivated enough to make it then. Really, it's worse than Times Square. We could only take it for about twenty minutes before we had to flee.



I got an unexpected nerd fix late at night. This street bar has joysticks permanently built into the wood bar. They're connected to a game console with graphics so old I didn't recognize them. Drunk boys playing Street Fighter, bashing and slashing each other with virtual sticks and swords, are pretty amusing.



Overall I had a lovely time. I was a bit tired the first day from an early train, and overwhelmingly frustrated the second day when the crappy tourist map absolutely every news stand sells got me hopelessly and repeatedly lost for over two hours. I felt like I was in a really beautiful version of the Blair Witch Project. "Dear God, no! I've seen this lovely fountain before!" (If you go, be sure to get a Streetwise brand map before you leave.)

But I'm so grateful to have been. Mostly I just walked around and soaked it in. Venice defies visual documentation. It simply must be experienced.

Hot Guys, Yet So Creepy

Pinup calendar of hot Venetian Gondoliere?



Sure!

They’re athletic, fit, work outdoors, sing Italian love songs and work in a desperately romantic job.

---

Pinup calendar of hot guys who have taken a lifelong vow of celibacy?



Really. Fucking. Creepy.

So Many Christians, So Few Lions

We got the cutest Colosseum Tour Guide of them all. We win!

Super Gay and More Than A Village

Gay Village is Rome’s huge gay nightlife party. It’s only in the summer and it’s in a park. I’ve never seen anything quite like it. Tents, kiosks, bars, booths and dance floors sprawl as far as the eye can see.





It’s a veritable carnival of gay, gay, gay. It’s refreshing to see so many gay men and lesbians out together. New York’s queer community is quite segregated.

The selection at the snack booth is dizzying.







There’s a spin class. People brought biker shorts and gym bags for it.



The tobacconists are there to poison us and make otherwise attractive people repulsive. Fuck you, Phillip Morris.



There’s even a car show.



I decided to do it all. I was interviewed live on Radio Dee Gay. The lovely Sophia offered to teach me some Italian and asked what I wanted to learn. I said, “Since everyone here is so gorgeous I want to learn how to say ‘you are beautiful!’”

Bellissima!



There’s a booth where you can have your own photo shoot. I was feeling tipsy and sexy so I went for it.





Afterwards everyone spills out onto the streets.



These stands sell drunk food and, of course, more beer. What a country!

Poi, The International Language

I've been meeting people with mad poi skills ... like raver boy here.



Look who's back.



Everyone wants to try out my new kite poi.



Turns out you don't even need a common language to learn poi. I taught this deaf girl to spin. She picked it up right away.



If you're happy and you know it spin your poi.



Mari J is a fire spinner from Japan. Her poi dance is fabulous.

If you are not watching the olympic trials in HDTV ...

... you should be. So very, very pretty.

(Click photo to see full high-definition resolution.)

Poi Friends

Poi isn't just fun and healthy, it's surprisingly social. People want to join in or just try so often I now carry a bag full of sock poi I made. I'm making tons of new "poi friends".

This little heart-breaker is Nick from Kahzakistan.



This was his first time spinning. He was a natural.



I like to see how many people I can get spinning at once.
This girl has started meeting me in the park often to Poi.



Bette took the poi and immediately busted out some serious moves.



By far my favorite experience so far was when I taught a whole family to poi in Fort Tryon Park.



Aren't they just adorable?

The iPhone Camera Needs Zoom

This was as close as I could get to the sexy frisbee boys without my surreptitious photography being detected.

Hot for Flaming Poi Bois

I'm over ballet dancers. I've moved on to Poi Bois.

Yummy, yummy, yummy.

Good, Clean, Nude Fun for the Whole Family

I am attending Broadway Bares on Sunday at 9:30pm in the General Admission section. If you'd like to join my group and me, buy your ticket and drop me a line to let me know you're meeting us there.

Dale's new rule of public transportation is ...

... if you're gonna be this hot on the subway ...



... I get to publish your photo on the Internets.

"Kick him in the face! In the face!"

Maybe when the authorities are done investigating fighting dogs in The Bronx they'll get around to the kickboxing humans in Union Square Park.







The most disturbing thing wasn't the fights, it was the number of onlookers cheering them on.

Sweet Jesus.

All Aboard!

Screw taxis! I'm riding this....



Dale, all you ever seem to do is run around the city taking pictures of hot men with your iPhone....

Yeah. So?

Sweaty Latin Hottie Bonanza

Today I went to the 2008 Puerto Rican Day Parade and made another album.

Guess what I took pictures of?



The City Gym Boys mission is to "eliminate obesity in the inner city, hip hop style." Go get 'em, boys!

Same Dif

Apparently my subconscious has combined my desire for real estate with my desire for a new boyfriend into a single erotic narrative.

I am now having dreams where super hot guys show me their super gorgeous apartments and I just move in with no down payment.

If you catch me napping, please don't wake me.

I Need Serious Professional Help

It's now day four of watching the Kylie Minogue German Pretty Boy Video on a continuous loop on the spare monitor in my office.

This has to stop. I'm going to turn into this guy....



Hmmmmm ... actually ... he's totally hot ... maybe I should just date him.
We could make love while listening to Kylie.

SCHWING!

That was the sound of me reaching a new level of gay previously unknown to man.

Two Tastes That Taste Great Together

So what goes better together than Kylie Minogue and German Pretty Boys?

No. Just stop. Stop thinking right now. Because the answer is "NOTHING!"

Not Apollo and Starbuck, not Frodo and Sam, not Scotch and butt sex ... absolutely nothing goes better together than Kylie Minogue and German Pretty Boys. And this guy agrees.




If you want a higher quality version with more nudity to keep on your computer it's here.

If you want a free program that will convert this file to a movie you can watch on your iPod/iPhone that's here for Mac and here for Windows.

And if, after watching this video a hundred or so times on a loop, you now find your brain completely infected with the need to own the album it's here.

---

Anyone who knows me knows that I enjoy stupid, perky europop. Ridiculous lyrics and silly dance moves make me howl with laughter. But what you may not know is that I love this stuff in a way that's more than just ironic. There's just something about a catchy tune I can't resist. I've been listening to the song in the above video (Kylie's Wow) on a loop for a couple hours and I'm now in such a good mood I hardly know what to do with myself. As I write this, I'm really and genuinely happy.

And that's probably the most demented part of it all.

Daddy Wants a Pretty Robot Boy

SPOILER ALERT: If you are watching Battlestar Galactica and you haven't caught up to the Season 3 finale you should probably stop reading.

Everyone knows that Cylons use to be shiny chrome ...



... but are now sexy clones ....



Human-looking Cylons don't die. If they are killed, they reincarnate with full memories into an identical body on their Resurrection Ship.



There are rows and rows of these cloned bodies ready to go on this ship.

OK. Listen carefully to what I'm about to tell you because it's the most important thing you are ever likely to learn.

It has now been revealed that adorable stud muffin Samuel T. Anders is a Cylon. That means that on the Resurrection Ship there are hundreds of these just hanging around.



I want one.

No wait. Screw that.

I want two.

Who's a pretty boy?

One Singular Confusion

There's something very odd about being photographed with and receiving an autograph from a person one is told is a celebrity when one in fact has no idea who the alleged celebrity is.

I would have preferred a photo with the dancer boy with the amazingly tight ... um ... technique.

Nick gets extra props from me for having iPhone wallpaper of himself available for download from his website. That's hawt. And this is just plain off the hook.

They Grow Up So Fast

Look closely. Do you even recognize who this is?



/snicker

Is Everyone Moist Now?

We need more bathtub technologists.

Barbershop Beauties

I was getting my usual buzz cut and shave at my usual Dominican barbershop here in The Heights and this book caught my eye. As I flipped through the pages I had a clash of emotions.



Is it just me, or are these mens' haircut books really, really gay? For starters the title just screams gay porn, "Men in Action VII". Booyah! And don't forget the thrilling sequel, "Men in Action VIII - Latin Fever!"

Almost nowhere else in pop imagery do you find men depicted solely as objects of beauty. Sure, exercise magazines offer pretty men with the thin pretext of athletics. But the pretext is there and it's key.

Men can't just be beautiful in America. They can only be accidentally or incidentally attractive as a function of something else ... sports, war, leadership, etc.

Romance novel covers offer pretty men, but the text is all about strength and heroism. Men presented as attractive without pretext ... gay. Anyone who looks at them, also gay.

But barbershop books break this pattern ... pretty men, presented as and because they are pretty, doing nothing.

Barbershop books were probably the first images of pretty men being pretty that were ever available to me as a boy. I've always found these books erotic. And since I have 30+ years of history with these books, I'm hard wired pretty deep when it comes to them. I never really cared about the haircuts, just the pretty men. There's something clandestine, exciting and yet skeezy about having erotic thoughts at a non-erotic venue like a barbershop. So flipping through the pages I felt just a bit self conscious. "I may as well stand on this chair and proclaim to the whole shop, 'I'm a fag and I wanna fuck all these guys!'" I thought to myself.

I "read" the book as long as I dared and put it back down. Odd that of all the sorts of outrageous things I'm prone to doing in public, this fairly innocent act would be the one to make me uncomfortable.

So I closed my eyes and went back to being shaved by another man (not gay at all) and pondering these deep matters of great importance. By the time my haircut was done I had mentally composed this blog post and wanted a photo of the book to go with it.

Again, quite out of character for me, it took some psyching myself up to do it. "If lusting over the book didn't scream 'I'm gay' surely composing a photo with the book will," I thought. Rather than asking permission I decided to just grab the book, place it in context, snap a photo and make a quick get away.

But instead of the shop owner skreeching, "My God! There's been a fag in our midst lo these many minutes! Get the torches and pitchforks!" to my surprise exactly the opposite occurred.

My impromptu photo session created a sudden flurry of interest. The Dominican barbers all came over to look at the image on my iPhone. My own, previously almost entirely expressionless barber smiled. "Look, barbershop art," I said.

He asked if I worked at a magazine. He actually seemed to beam with pride.

I think he felt that I'd captured the essence of his professional life with this image. It seemed to bring him some pleasure that I'd shown him the art in his daily life. I emailed him a copy of the image.

We all have art in our daily lives, of course. Sometimes we just need a little help seeing it.

As I walked away it occurred to me that barbershop books are one of the few instances in public where it's accepted that men may look at pretty men without the automatic assumption of it being gay as a pejorative. Oh sure, it's plenty homoerotic. But it's homoerotic with deniability, like pro wrestling and bodybuilding exhibitions.

We need more of that.

Or maybe just less of a societal need for deniability.

Or how about more books full of pretty men?

Yeah. That sounds about right.

Nothing Gay To See Here, Move Along

One heartfelt post about astronomy and now we’re back to nipples. I feel so much better.



As you can clearly see from the photo, there is absolutely nothing gay about these “Hard, Sexy, Hot” guys. They are “For Crazy Ladies Only” and not gay at all. Nope. Not gay. Not even a little. No gay here. Just ladies’ men. Who are not gay. At all. Just a big pile of Latin dudes. Who are not gay. Nope. Not gay. They are “The Best, The Biggest.” And totally straight. Meaning not gay. At all.

Helpful Advice for the Curious Traveller

Suppose while traveling you decide on a warm afternoon to seek a brief respite from the sun in a friendly neighborhood dispensary of libations. And suppose further that halfway into your drink it occurs to you to wonder whether the establishment perhaps caters to patrons who are occasionally inclined to seek the company of members of their own gender.

Well then, dear reader, here are my travel tips for you.

First, when pretty boys clad only in leather aprons serve daquiries poolside in front of a giant rainbow flag, odds are pretty good you are in a gay bar.

And second, for reasons that elude me, fags smoking cigarettes, reading magazines and sipping martinis do not seem to appreciate cannonballs, no matter how artfully executed.

I Am Aquaman!

"Who got 100% on his scuba diving certification exam," you ask?

Me, baby!

Which sounds impressive until you see the test and realize it's written for 14-year-olds. Really. You can get scuba certified at 14. So it's an easy test. The whole process is designed to keep stupid people from killing themselves underwater.

What's terrifying is that 70% is a passing score. What makes this so scary is there are any number of questions that would result in death if you get them wrong.

"If you accidentally exceed the maximum safe time for your dive by more than five minutes you should:"

1. Drop all your gear and immediately surface. (YOU DIE.)
2. Dive deeper and equalize. (YOU DIE)
3. Rise to 5 meters and make an 8 minute safety stop. (YOU GET A REALLY BAD CASE OF THE BENDS AND MAYBE DIE.)
4. Rise to 5 meters and make a 15 minute safety stop, after which you should not dive again for 24 hours. (CONGRATULATIONS, YOU LIVE!)
5. Use your dive knife to go on a killing spree, starting with your dive partner, moving on to your dive master and then turn on any nearby sharks or dolphins you can find. (OK, I MADE THIS ONE UP.)
   

I really enjoyed the class. In particular, and to my surprise, I really enjoyed sitting with a text book and doing homework.

I mentioned this to a few young friends of mine, all of whom immediately offered to drop off as much homework as I'd like. Of course, I enjoyed homework because I haven't had any in about 20 years. Which strikes me as just about the right frequency for homework.

There's a lot to learn in scuba diving. None of it is difficult so the challenge comes from the sheer volume of it.

Luckily just when I'd be in danger of getting bored the training DVD would throw me a gem like, "you may notice that plants are easier to sneak up on than animals."

Really? Fascinating.

By far my favorite was, "Learn to identify sensitive bottoms. As much as possible, avoid contact with sensitive bottoms."

That may well be the best advice I've received in my entire life.

Additional hilarity was provided by the only other student in my class, a bright but extremely nervous Asian chick.

She was so neurotic about scuba diving I started to wonder why she even wanted to do it.

"I'm scared of boats."

"Will I breath water?"

"How often do divers get eaten by sharks?"

"When you drown under water does your body sink or float?"

"If I drink a Diet Coke before I go diving will the bubbles make my head explode?"

OK. I made that last one up. But really, she was a wreck.

Like a dance teacher showing a student how to lead, the rescue exercises in the pool were a farce.

"No, hold my vest here to keep me from drowning."

"No, grab me this way to save me."

Sigh.

In the end, though, I did have to give her props for her sheer determination in the face of her fears and we both graduated.

But if that chick's dive buddy ever needs actual help, he's screwed.

(Do you like how I started out with comics of Aquaman, moved on to photos of Alan Ritchson as Aquaman, and finally just degenerated into photos of Alan Ritchson, underwear model? Really, would you expect anything less of my blog? OK. I'll stop. Well ... maybe just one more.)

One of the things that made the scuba class so enjoyable is that scuba diving is not so much a sport as it is applied science in service of recreation.

I went into the class thinking scuba diving is an athletic activity requiring strength, stamina and a high level of fitness. I thought this because I've done a fair bit of snorkeling which is rather athletic. I therefore concluded scuba diving, which is similar, is also athletic. This could not be more wrong.

My misimpression was shattered by my instructors. Alas, my fantasy of casually hunky Australian dive masters like in the DVD was not to be.

My two instructors turned out to be an out-of-shape, ex-hippie, rotund, hilariously-bickering married couple, older than God's dirt. (Note, that's both older than God and older than dirt.)

The combination of my male instructor's age and the particular challenges of putting on a wet suit offered me the opportunity to enjoy a charming, old-world expression never before uttered to me.

"You might might want to dress to the right for this."

Which is a gentleman's way of saying, "if you don't stuff your junk down the right leg of your wet suit, you're going to get it jammed in the zipper."

But "dress to the right" is so much more civilized, no?

(I went looking for a photo for the above section, but in a rare moment of restraint decided against it. So you'll just have to Google bulging crotch photos yourself. Sorry.)

My first thought looking at my geriatric instructors was they couldn't make it up a flight of stairs, much less do anything requiring stamina. But they knew their stuff. She has over 11,000 dives under her belt. So I thought "If they can do it I can do it."

Which is when I realized, scuba diving is not an athletic activity.

Scuba diving is your chance to be a Zeppelin.

When you skin dive (snorkel without a tank) it's just you, the water and your breath control. It takes a lot out of you.

When you scuba dive, you put on 80 pounds of bulky equipment that turn you into a nearly immobilized cow and then you waddle into the water.

But once you hit the water, a magical thing happens. All that heavy, bulky equipment just vanishes. You and the equipment become one, weightless, perfectly balanced unit. And while you may be a slow-moving, bloated cow, you are a slow-moving, bloated cow with absolutely perfect boyancy control.

You breath in and gently rise. You exhale and gently descend. And when you want to go somewhere, you gently paddle your legs and take your slow, sweet time getting there.

Scuba diving is surprisingly tranquil, serene and relaxing.

So now I'm off to beautiful Puerta Vallarta!

Only 21 hours left to learn Spanish. No problem. 51 more Coffee-Break Spanish podcasts and I'm there.

"Yo tango uno refresco en el cafe del mar con el burro con queso."

See? I'm golden.

Wish me luck with my quest for underwater adventures and pretty mexi-boys.

I'm paying $1.99 per episode for this to suck? - Unplugged Part 3

(This series started here, "Unplugged - Part 1".)

Buying TV by the episode is a very different consumer experience from having cable TV. This didn't hit me right away because the first couple shows I grabbed are reliably good. But now that I've expanded to shows in which I have a more casual interest, I'm much more aware of the quality of what I'm watching and whether it's worth it or not.

It strikes me odd that it took this shift in spending to give me this realization. Because money is far from our most valuable asset. Our time and attention are the most valuable things we, as sentient beings, can give or spend.

When I had cable TV, I used to just chuckle when a series jumped the shark. Now I find myself thinking, "I'm paying $1.99 per episode for this to suck?"

Going unplugged has made me far more conscious of what I choose to watch. Because each and every show is a conscious choice instead of an act of passive, slack-jawed, remote-in-hand, couch potatoery.

(Potatoery is so totally a word and if you don't believe me look it up. Don't contradict me.)

Which brings me to this.

Lost sucks.

Whoa, Nelly, does it suck.

The first season was awesome. Season 2 was OK. Season 3 sucked. And now that season 4 has started, it sucks too. It no longer has a narrative. It's just a sad attempt to string together spooky events and spooky characters with startling revelations and laughably out of place spooky music.

In particular, I've never forgiven Lost for killing off the character played by adorable, fluffy-muffin-head, Ian Somerhalder.

(((swoon)))

And then Lost forced me to wait a whole year for the death of the character of his annoying, selfish, stupid, bratty, whiny sister. That almost made season 2 worth it. While the violins played and she gasped her dying breath I was literally jumping up and down on the sofa for joy.

Fuck she was irritating.

But I digress....

So now I have a dilemma. This is the last season. Do I keep watching out of some desperate hope for improvement and closure?

I probably will. If only because I have a credit on my XBox Live account and can't seem to find anything better to do with it. And sometimes, despite my soliloquy on the preciousness of our time and attention, you just want to zone out and make fun of something.

Lost will do I suppose.

Sigh ... two months until new Battlestar Galactica.

I'm continuing to evaluate the video quality of Apple TV and XBox Live video. I'll have more to say about this in the future. For now I'll just say the dramatic variance is unexpected and startling.

Apple Bois Are Hawt!

I'm at the Apple Store. I can really only take this place for about 30 minutes, tops. After that, the combination of gadget lust and pretty-boy nerd lust becomes so overwhelming I must flee and search for a cold shower.

Something for Everyone

100 Guys. No Shirts.

Do you really need me to explain why this is on my blog?

No. I didn't think so.

Just click the damn link already.

Improv Everywhere, "No Shirts"

The Gay Halo Fanboy's List of Most Fuckable Bungie Boys

Watching the behind the scenes videos for the making of Halo 3 I realized that Bungie is just packed to the gills with man candy. And since video gaming is predominantly the playground of young men, there's something inherently homoerotic about it.

If you wanna see the videos of these boys, ya gotta buy the Halo 3 Limited Edition.

Now on to the list!




Joseph Staten, Writing Director
Baby-Faced Dreamer
The Noah Wyle of Bungie



Damián Isla, Campain Engineer
"Don't I look hot in my glasses?
The Harry Potter of Bungie



Paul Bertone, Campaign Design Lead
"Are you lookin' at me?"
The Tough Guy of Bungie



Chris Butcher, Engineering Lead
Freakin' Adorable with a New Zealand accent to die for ... if he doesn't turn you on, you're officially brain dead.
Mr. Blow-Job Lips of Bungie



Tyson Green, Multiplayer Design Lead
"Dude! Where's My Car?"
The Hot Stoner of Bungie



Harold Ryan, Studio Manager
A bit pudgy for my taste, but there's just something about him
The Boy-Next Door of Bungie ...
... if you live next to a stud farm



Luke Timmins, Multiplayer Engineer
His nickname is "The Sausage King". How gay is that?
The Mr. "I Want Your Sex" Beard Stubble of Bungie
(Trust me, much hawter in the video.)



Xi Wang, Graphics Engineer
Who's got a cute smile?
You do! Yes, you do, pretty boy!
The Manga Fantasy Boy of Bungie
(OK, so this isn't the right "Xi Wang". This is a Malaysian pop star, but he's cute, so he'll do. Yes, I know I'm lumping all Asians together. Sue me.)



Marcus Lehto, Art Director
"Is my goatee gay enough for this video?"
Ya just know he's got a harness and some bicep cuffs at home.
The Leather Daddy of Bungie


and last but not least ...


Jason Jones, Founder
Hot, Smart and Loaded
The Prince William of Bungie


You're welcome.

Boy Band Brat Flags Some Seriously Kinky Shit

In his HBO concert, Future Sex/Love Show, Justin Timberlake wore a purple and fuscia, paisley hanky in his right back pocket.

This obvious display of the Gay Hanky Code means our favorite little pretty boy brat has piercings, a fetish for boxer shorts and likes to get spanked.

Can this really be a surprise to anyone?

The Biggest Brat on YouTube

Oh, yeah. This reminds me. I need to buy a ball gag.



And maybe a paddle.

Good, Clean, Nude Fun for the Whole Family

I'm a big fan of Broadway Bares and feel I should explain why.

[snicker]

Ya, right!

Like I have to explain. Just look at the photo for crying out loud!



What's great about this show is how playful and fun it is. Sexy, yes, absolutely! But never sleazy.

Here's a Broadway Bares 2007 Sexy Preview Video.

It's got something for everyone....

It's got boys.
It's got girls.
It's got dancers, acrobats and gymnasts.
It's homoerotic.
It's heteroerotic.
It's lesboerotic.

It's good, clean, nude fun for the whole family.

So go buy your tickets already.
Why not join me at the early show? (9:30pm)

FYI, there is no seating unless you buy a VIP ticket. So if you buy the general admission $55 ticket you'll be standing the whole show. But if I can do it with my broken spine, then so can you. It's for charity, after all. And nipples.

Charity and nipples.

Oh, and dinner beforehand. Tell me if you're coming and I'll let you know where to meet up.

Star War: The Backstroke of the West

And now to the question simply everyone is asking....

What would happen if a Bangkok bootlegger translated Star Wars III into Chinese and then back into English?

Why, fun for the whole family, of course!

Star War: The Backstroke of the West



My God! Not disheveled hair projection!



Um ... you mean like in a bad way? Or a good way?



Funny, I usually have the same reaction to Hayden Christensen.

Nerdgasm

The biggest nerd orgy of the year, E3, the giant video game expo, is happening right now.

So let's see ... what's news?

The price for the Sony Playstation 3 basic system is going to be a kidney. And the high-end system can be yours for just one human baby.

Awesome!

Better yet, the PS3 is scheduled to ship the day after a massive comet destroys all life on this planet.

Sweet!

Nintendo announced recently that their next game console will be named the Nintendo Wii.

Say what?

The original name was Nintendo Revolution. Bitchin'. Turns out this was just the project name, not to be the final product name. So after a year of everyone calling it the Revolution, they change it to Wii.

Wii?!?!?!

You've got to be fucking kidding me!

According to the Nintendo press release, "Wii as in We" reflects togetherness and community.

"Wii will change gaming forever."

"Wii will bring gamers together."

Oh, I get it....

Wait! No really! I get it! In fact, I've got it! The perfect slogan.... Tell me what you think....

Dive Into the Pool of Wii

Genius no? Can I market the shit out of shit or what?


Bungie/Microsoft is previewing Halo 3, the first game that actually makes me seriously consider shelling out the cash for an XBox 360. While I'm sure the game itself will rock, the Halo 3 trailer for the game sucks. And when I say, it sucks, what I mean is that it blows, it's awful, it's embarrassing and I can't believe that the most well funded game studio in the world would release this dreck.

In the Halo 3 Trailer, the Master Chief walks to a ledge and looks over a cliff. That's it. End of movie.

Boooooorrrrrrrriiiiiiiiiiinnnnnngggggg.

Right before Microsoft bought Bungie in 2000 to get its grubby little mitts on Halo, I saw the original Halo trailer at MacWorld. It was a work of art. Thrilling Action! Amazing Music! Stunning Vistas! Years later watching it still sends a chill up my spine. (I have a saved copy, I wish I could find a link for you.)

The Halo 3 trailer has none of that. Worse, the resolution sucks, the video quality sucks and the sound quality really, really sucks. It looks and sounds like a bootleg DVD you'd buy on Canal St.

After much digging, I finally found a hi-res Halo 3 trailer with surround sound. It's visually pretty, but still pretty boring. At least it's not technically embarrassing.

I don't understand why they burried this. It makes Halo 3, Windows Media video and Microsoft all look bad. How did the masters of PR commit such a huge PR blunder?


Spore, the new game from Will Wright, designer of The Sims, looks amazing. I can't wait to play it, which is ironic, because I never played any of The Sims.

(Don't skip the Flash intro on the Spore site. It's really funny.)

In Spore, you evolve your own species of creature from one-celled organism all the way up to intergalactic civilization.

Did you get that?

Evolve your own species! Conquer the galaxy!

How cool is that?!

Gimmie! Gimmie! I want it now!

(Fuck, I use a lot of exclamation points!)


Games and stuff are cool ... but the biggest reason to tune into the E3 coverage on G4TV is Kevin Pereira.



Not only is the smug little hottie co-hosting ... he's talking about his taint. (No kidding.)



Oh, yeah! Right there! Don't stop!

What a brat. He really needs to be punished.

Now let's see, where are my restraints?

Apple Is Getting Smug....

It's about damn time!

(Isn't the "Mac" adorable?)

How to Give a Crowd *EXACTLY* What They Want

Sex Bomb

Britain's Cutest Sap

I went to the movies last weekend. First I saw Imagine Me & You, the lesbian Brokeback Mountain. Well ... not really. There are no cowboys and it's set in London. It's a cute little film. And it's gratifying to know, I suppose, that we have become accepted enough that they're now making formulaic, mundane romantic comedies about us.

I'm not saying it was bad. I was entertained. It's just incredibly predictable.

It's your basic love triangle with a climax featuring contrived urgency and a callback to an obvious set up earlier in the story.

At least we're finally moving past what I call "Homo 101 Stories," where the whole film is spent explaining the characters' sexuality. Refreshingly, in Imagine Me & You the characters' sexuality are taken for granted, as it should be.

In stark contrast, the next night I saw the new Woody Allen movie, Match Point. I like Allen's writing very much. And what makes the film particularly enjoyable is that Allen himself appears nowhere in it.

This is one of those rare movies where half way in, I still had no idea where it was going. Even at the climax he keeps you guessing. And what a climax!

Match Point had a powerful effect on me. I was so drawn into the story, that I was quite surprised to find my heart was pounding in my chest during at the end. I can't recall a single other film having this effect on me ... ever.

I was quite amused to see, in both films, in the very same theater only one evening later, the same British actor, Matthew Goode.

Even more amusing was that he was playing essentially the same character, right down to the mannerisms and facial expressions ... the charming, lovable, handsome, clueless bloke who has absolutely no idea his wife is cheating on him.

What a sap.

Well nevermind. When you're this cute does it really matter if you're dumb as a box of hammers?

Methinks not.

More Casper

Ron pointed out that Casper was in his 20s in all the photos I posted. OK, fine. Here's a recent photo of him with his thirty-something crow's feet, still looking all hot 'n' stuff.



So there.

I read that when asked about his "idols" he told a fitness magazine, "Sylvester Stallone in Rambo II had -- hands down -- the best body."

Egad.

Don't ever read the "thoughts" of celebrities you think are sexy. Invariably it kills it.

And Now For Something Completely Different

My friends are always bugging me about never giving older men a chance. Well I just noticed that Casper Van Dien is exactly 3 days older than me. So see guys? I think older men can be perfectly attractive. Especially when they look like this.





When is 80s feathered hair coming back? And tight jeans. I miss those too.


Starship Troopers is one of those movies that's so bad it's good.



Who me? Pretty boy bondage fantasies? No. Not at all.
Never even crossed my mind. Why do you ask?



Me, Tarzan! You, Jane!



What sweetheart? You want to be Tarzan tonite? OK, honey. Whatever you want. As long as we leave the monkey out of it this time.

When I started this entry, it was just gonna mention his birthday and have one little photo. Now it seems to be getting out of hand. But I'm fine, man. I don't have a problem. I can quit any time I want to. Really. Just one more and I'll stop.

Show daddy your tattoo....



Good boy! Such a good boy!

Did I say one more? I meant two.



Somebody please help me. I'm out of control.

Muffins in Space!

The new Battelstar Galactica is the best show on Television.

That's right, punk. You heard me, bitch.

Not, the best science fiction show on Television.

The best show.

Period.

And it's not just us nerds that think so. The critics agree. (Not that I give a flying fuck about them.)

Why?

The writing, the acting and the directing of course.

What else could it be possibly be?

Commercial Twinks

I was just watching So Graham Norton on BBC America and saw an ad for the Orbitz Gay Travel Site with the most adorable twinks in it. Yay! Gay ads on TV! Go Orbitz!

Here's the ad.

For tons more gay ads, including lots of very sexy ads from Europe, check out, the CommercialCloset.org.

Go MTA!

Have I ever mentioned how much I love the NYC Subway?

Warrior Vixens in Leather

I've been writing this weekend. And when I need a break I've been watching a movie.

Hollywood loves hybrid movies ... the Action-Adventure and the Romantic-Comedy.

And then there's my favorite hybrid ... the Action-Melodrama-Comedy-Gay Soft Porno.

One of my first favorites of this genre was Beastmaster.

Oh, Marc Singer. You sultry stud, you. I was 13 years old when this film was released in 1982. And I can't tell you how many nights I ... uh ... nevermind. You don't want to know.



Then came Gladiator.

Sweat, leather, muscle and terrible, terrible acting ...

what's not to love?



And now there's Troy ...

2 hours and 42 minutes of glorious man candy and magnificently bad dialog.

Oh he tries to hide it. But I know Brad's never gotten over me.

It's OK, Brad. Life goes on. I give you my blessing to fuck Angelina Jolie on one condition ... that the two of you make beautiful gay boys.

If you get started now, they'll be old enough to keep me company when I'm collecting what's left of my Social Security benefits.






At any moment in the film, I keep expecting Orlando Bloom to burst out with "They're taking the Hobbits to Isengard!"

There, there. Don't worry your pretty little head. I know you're trying. It's OK. I know. Acting is hard. So very, very hard.











And then there's Eric Bana. This man should be prohibited by law from ever wearing clothes.





"All my life I've lived by a code,
and the code is simple.
Honor the Gods.
Love Thy woman.
And defend Thy country."

Who writes this crap?

And please, please, please let them never stop.