Author Archives: Alan Ilagan
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2012
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2012
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August
2012
Shirtless Sunday: Thom Evans
Now here’s a Thom I can get on board with ~ Mr. Thom Evans. He certainly has greater physical attributes than Tom Cruise, and it can only be guessed that his mental status is equally superior. Nothing against Scientology, I swear.
I kid. Though to be honest, underwear is my only religion – and these pictures show why. Much more of Mr. Evans HERE.
All of the images by photographer Daniel Jaems, from F.Tape Fashion.
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August
2012
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August
2012
Shirtless Sunday: Tom Cruise
Because some people still find him hot. Once again, I am not some people, but I don’t begrudge anyone a bit of nostalgia.
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August
2012
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August
2012
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August
2012
Dusk or Dawn
There’s always such a fine line. (In this case it’s the dusk, posted at the dawn.)
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August
2012
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August
2012
A Provincetown Dinner
Tonight we dine at The Mews Restaurant… and if it feels like I’ve been waiting a decade to eat here, it’s because I have.
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2012
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2012
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2012
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August
2012
The Paradise of Provincetown
Today we are journeying to Provincetown – that special sea-surrounded tip of the Cape that has provided such a refuge for so many artists, fishermen, and lost folk. I haven’t been there in a few years, and I’ve missed it. This is actually the first time that Andy and I will be in the town together. As a wise animal once remarked, “It’s so much friendlier with two.”
For a certain stretch, I was going down once a summer, usually just one night (after a night in Boston). I’d depart at the crack of dawn, before the traffic, but also before the town was awake. It would be hours before some places even opened, so I’d park and walk around in the early morning light, unbothered by the throngs that would soon populate Commercial Street. That is my favorite hour, before the mayhem really begins. There’s something to be said for crowds and excitement and vacationing stupidity, but I prefer silence and solitude when you’re surrounded with so much natural beauty.
This time around we have a few lose plans – a whale watch (Andy’s done one, but I never have), perhaps a beach visit (if I can muster the energy for that journey of a hike), and a dinner at Mews (another first for me). The madness of Carnival is over, but the summer is still here…
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August
2012
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August
2012
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2012
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August
2012
Birthday Briefs
Sometimes, even on your birthday, the only kiss you can count on is your own. (The world’s tiniest violin is croaking out a ‘Happy Birthday’ song somewhere for this maudlin moment.) Now that that’s passed, let’s party. With dinner at one of my favorite restaurants (Sibling Rivalry) and an Oscar Wilde-themed play (‘Gross Indecency’) I am bound to enjoy this birthday in Boston.
 
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August
2012
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August
2012
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August
2012
The Birthday Boy (And Family)
From left to right is my cousin Martina, my brother Paul, my cousin Andrew, and me. (I forget the name of the small stuffed beaver I’m so happily holding and trying to protect from the prying hands of Andrew, but I know the big chicken behind it was christened ‘The Laying Hen’ – no lie). I figured this was a good photo to put up for my birthday (racier fare to come later, as we can’t remain children forever, but for now, this will do) – to remind everyone I wasn’t always a grown-ass man.
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2012
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August
2012
Dinner With Andy
Happiness is a dinner with my husband, in a city by the sea.
 
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August
2012
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August
2012
Midnight at the WalMart
After finishing up our preliminary evening of web work, Skip and I made a midnight trip to WalMart to pick up the release of ‘The Hunger Games’. These are two things in which I am normally not at all interested, but when given the chance to go to WalMart at midnight and see a bunch of losers all excited for their dorky movie coming out on DVD, it was too much to pass up. I was only expecting a small handful of devoted/delusional fans, but the line was about 20 deep, and moving at a snail’s pace.
A family of four or five stood before us, and Skip asked the middle girl, about 12 years old, if she was Team Pita or Team Salad (I forget what the names were). She chose one, to which I said, “I’m Team Madonna.” She promptly turned back around and continued talking to her father. Rude. Skip said he half-expected the banjo music from Deliverance to start playing, and I prayed for a glimpse of Burt Reynolds back in his glory days. (Not that I’ve ever been smitten with Mr. Reynolds.)
A single guy with gigantic holes in his ears is behind us in line. He doesn’t smile. He does, however, make me wonder what kind of movie ‘The Hunger Games’ is. Is this some ‘Lord of the Rings’ type epic? How else to explain the young men in line with us? Before I have time to dwell on the madness, Skip reaches the counter and gets his copy, then we are charging out of the store dodging bras and E-Z See keyboards and military men in full camo regalia. I’ve had my WalMart fill and it’s time for the Hess Express, even if they’re out of hot dogs.
