Tom Daley’s Leaked Full-Frontal Shots

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There will likely be more leaking than what Tom Daley has already inspired here due to these photos, and while this has traditionally been a full-frontal-free zone, there’s one day a year when those rules go out the window. These are the Tom Daley full-frontal shots that are about to shake all the fruit from the gay tree.

But first, a few teaser pics because you can’t do the big reveal without a few lead-ins…

Mr. Daley has come close before, with a naked butt shot (allegedly) and tons of Speedo pics, but nothing approaches the majesty of his member

And nothing gives me more glee than another April 1st post.

{See also the full-frontal shots of Ben Cohen and David Beckham.}

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My Straight Sex Scandal (With Photos)

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Move over Paris Hilton and Kim Kardashian, my sex scandal involving a woman is about to hit the sheets – I mean the streets. Rather than let rumors and stories circulate, rather than allow speculation to run wildly rampant, I’m going to put it all out here and let you get it straight from the source.

Years ago, my friend Kira and I went out for an after-work shopping expedition to some mall outside of Boston. A friend and co-worker offered us some weed, but we each steadfastly refused. I just didn’t do it, but Kira’s explanation was more succinct, and I quote: “If I do that I will make love to Alan right here in the backseat of this car!” Obviously, I pushed the pot as far away from Kira as I could.

Cut to this past weekend in Boston. While there was no pot involved, one photo shoot led to another and before you know it we might as well have lit up a doobie or swallowed a batch of funny brownies.

You know my motto in life: hit it and quit it.

And you know my other motto on days like this: Happy April Fool’s!

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The Magic of the Market

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The SoWa Market is moving to its new location after Easter weekend, but before the change of venue I wanted to make a quick stop at its current warehouse location. Filled with objects of whimsy and intrigue, each coupled to a story mostly unknown and a history often untold, the market is a fun romp of exploration and discovery ~ the very best way to spend a Sunday morning in Boston.

Kira and I started with a pair of scones at the South End Buttery – one in Orange & Chocolate and one in Maple & Bacon – both a study in deliciousness. The Lemon-Lavender cupcakes advertised on the outside sign had not yet materialized, but a proper scone can erase a multitude of otherwise-unforgivable omissions. The day was bright and sunny, but the cold of a malingering winter held fast. Kira fortified herself with a hot chocolate while I sipped a hot coffee. These were the in-between moments that I often looked back at and missed the most when weekends like this were over.

While the destination dinners and shows and other events provide the impetus for many of our plans, it’s always been the quieter times that resonate in the memory. The funny trips to Walgreens or CVS, the impromptu cookie at Café Madeleine, or the quick jaunt to Star Market for breakfast food the next day – these are the times that somehow matter more than front-row tickets to some smash musical or a dressy dolled-up evening at a fancy steakhouse.

A stroll through the SoWa Market falls somewhere between a destination event and a throwaway moment – but this walk will be remembered as the start of the spring season, and the last at its current spot. It will also be the visit where Kira mistook an ATM machine for a piece of vintage machinery and I didn’t have the heart or the energy to correct her (until she needed a real ATM machine and didn’t know where one was located.)

The Market will always be a magical place for me, but most of that magic can only be conjured when the right company is present.

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A Long-Awaited Return to Boston

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It’s been a long, trying winter for those of us who’ve wanted to visit Boston. With all of the snow, I couldn’t make it back until this past weekend, and even then I was unsure of what I’d find. To my pleasant surprise, most of the snow had dwindled into a few dirty piles here and there. Glimpses of apocalyptic scenes remained – the new dogwood tree that had been planted in front of our building was stripped of a few of its branches, while snow banks continued to reveal parking spot savers and bits of dirty debris. But the temperatures were on the rise, and even though most of Saturday was filled with wet snow and a driving wind, none of it stuck.

Instead, there were sights of promise and hope, like the batch of snowdrops in bloom here. Drifts of daffodils were also seen poking through brown leaves and wet soil in the more protected spots that caught the sun and melted the snow sooner than other areas. The hopelessness of winter was dissipating. The shift was discernible. There was energy and excitement in the air.

It’s all about to begin again…


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A Recap A Day Late

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Due to the twins’ birthday and a weekend in Boston, I didn’t get to post a weekly recap yesterday, so let’s get that out of the way now. It’s the last day of March anyway, which makes it ideal for such a look back. I hesitate to see that we have seen the last of winter, particularly in such a cruel year, but I saw daffodils poking through the ground in Boston, and snowdrops in actual bloom. The pendulum is on its swift move. Stand back.

The Hunk of the Day feature here went a little deeper with this entry honoring legendary Olympian Greg Louganis.

A fun family dinner welcomed Elaine and Tony back into the moody Northeast spring.

Andy and I turned up the Homoradio.

Silver-fox favorite Max Joseph and Zac Efron made a pair of fine-looking gentlemen.

Marking his second appearance as Hunk of the Day, male supermodel Noah Mills once again made a pretty splash.

I finished ‘Wasn’t Tomorrow Wonderful?’ by Kenneth Walsh, and it was quite wonderful indeed.

Another inspirational Hunk of the Day, Noah Galloway, showed the world how to overcome anything.

Groundbreaking or not, I love florals for spring.

Eat the fish!

The Über-fit Roger Frampton in all his shirtless glory.

It wouldn’t have been nearly as good a week without a little shirtless Channing Tatum, and a naked Austin Armacost.

A touching Special Guest Blog by my pal Joel.

But the highlight of the whole run was this stripped-down-but-epic performance of ‘Ghosttown’ by Madonna and Taylor Swift. Bow down.

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Scene: Price Chopper Store #188 – Shaker Road – Loudonville

It was 8 AM and I was in a rush to get to work. In my hand was a bouquet of flowers that I figured wouldn’t take more than two minutes to select and purchase. I foolishly assumed that the market would have enough registers open to get those of us en route to work in and out within a reasonable time frame. Of course, as I eyed the registers, there were only two open, and no one was even at the express lane. Five or six workers scuttled about the customer service space near the registers, so I caught the eye of the oldest woman there and asked if the express line was open (since it was, after all, lit). She said no, it wasn’t at that moment. I hurried to the only other open register, where a woman stood waiting for a manager to stop by.

She was wrangling with coupons. Lots of coupons. One of which was ringing up incorrectly and not giving “triple points” or some other nonsense. The manager haplessly scanned and rescanned and nothing worked. At this point I was just as mad at the miserly coupon lady as I was at the incompetent scanners. But, remembering my own five year stint of retail, I took a deep breath and re-ordered priorities. Five minutes later and no resolution in sight, the woman who had initially refused to take me in the open express lane had been forced to open up, but by then there were too many people for me to fight past to get in that line. Finally it was my turn and I was in no mood for small talk.

When the cashier asked me how I was, I replied, “I’m going to be late.”

She sensed my tone but instead of letting it go she decided to challenge me. “Why is that?” she asked.

“Umm, because this transaction took a lot longer than expected,” I replied.

“Well, you’re in a grocery store,” she shot back with just the slightest edge to her voice.

Oh no.

No, no, no.

Your line is, “I’m sorry for the delay.”

Blaming poor, and slow, service on the fact that it’s a grocery store is like blaming a match for being flammable.

I think she caught my look, because before I could say anything else she complimented me on my vest. Twice.

I thanked her and left, but it left me with the same sour taste that Price Chopper has been leaving in my mouth since we moved here.

Andy has been waging a mini-war with this particular Price Chopper store for years, finally starting to call them out on their exorbitant prices and actively comparing (with photos) their items with those of Hannaford. Price Chopper is almost always more expensive. I’ve had my own issues with this location – a leaky roof that was dripping onto their own products got a shrug from a manager on-duty one night I was there, while their Starbucks idiocy ended up with the parent company sending me a bunch of free drink tickets, but I’ve given up fighting back in person. Far better to put it down for posterity here, until someone sees the post and service improves. Thus far, that’s proven a futile effort, but it’s better to get it off my chest that take it out on their staff, no matter how much they claimed to like my vest.

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Number Five Is Alive

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Five years ago this world was blessed with the arrival of my niece and nephew. Since that time Emi and Noah have enriched my life in ways too numerous and core-changing to name in this silly birthday post. They make me rethink what’s important, they bring an innocence and a joy to my adult concerns, and they have given my parents purpose and a place to give their love.

I’m just enjoying watching them grow up. It feels like it’s going quicker and quicker, but birthdays are a time for reflection and celebration, and a place to pause for a moment on all that has happened.

Happy Birthday Noah and Emi!!

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A Message to Taylor Swift

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Dear Taylor Swift,

All is forgiven. You annoyed and irked me for years on end, but the evolution you went through starting with ’1989′ and culminating with your performance with Madonna last night just made me a fan. To be fair, it wasn’t just Madonna that did it. I’ve had ‘Blank Space’ on repeat for the past week. But your beautiful strumming of the guitar to Madonna’s ‘Ghosttown’ on the iHeartRadio Awards just cemented the deal. You rock.

Two sexy, stunning women supporting one another, and giving a whole new reading of the song:

“When the world gets cold, I’ll be your cover

Let’s just hold on to each other…”

It doesn’t just have to be romantic love that saves us. In fact, it’s usually not.

“All we’ve got left is love, Might as well start with us

Singing a new song, something to build on…”

And just like that I’m a squealing teenager again, moved to tears by the perfect pop performance, and the layers of history that have led to this moment. Thank you, Ms. Swift, for reminding me of the magic of a song, the magic of music, and the magic of Madonna.

PS ~ Darling I’m a nightmare dressed like a daydream.

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Austin Armacost in Attitude (& 1 Hot Ass)

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While Austin Armacost has never needed all that much nudging when it comes to showing off his ample assets, leave it to Attitude magazine to make it even sexier. Here are a few shots from his latest spread.

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When Love Wins Out: Special Guest Blog


{It takes one to know one, so when Joel ( a self-proclaimed Krafty Bitch) and I began exchanging correspondence, I knew I’d found a kindred wise-ass spirit. Yet it also takes more than wit and ornery brilliance to keep an online friendship alive, and it was Joel’s vulnerable stories and written tales that resonated on a deeper level for me. When I asked him to contribute to the Special Guest Blog feature, I was confident he’d come up with something wonderful, and he most definitely did.}


Special Guest Blog by Joel

“Are you serious?”

I turned and looked him. He was completely serious.

I said, “yes” and kissed him.

The man I had waited for, quite literally the man of my dreams, had just proposed. We were engaged.

I continued to drive us up the interstate that night in the rain, trying to process what had just happened. Just an hour beforehand we had been eating pizza at my brother’s house, surrounded by my immediate family. That alone—me bringing a significant other home to meet my family—already had me in a state of grateful disbelief. The fact that they had all loved him, including my dad, was just more sweet icing on the most delicious cake in the history of ever.

We continued to talk for the rest of the four hour drive back to my place, punctuating our conversation with the wow of “we’re getting married!” and trying not to think too much about his departing flight early the next morning. Right now, it was just us, in the moment. I had already learned so much from him. Striving to be more present was one of those lessons.

Still, we couldn’t help but marvel at the events of the past year, let alone the last several months or days.

A year ago on that same day, I had literally stood on an island in the middle of the Pacific Ocean in tears, wondering if the love I had always wanted would find his way into my life. At the same time, he was making the decision to seek out the love his life. We had been on the journey together the whole time; it just took nine months for us to find each other.

Just nine months. The proposal took place on my 38th birthday, so “just nine months” is a bit of an understatement. This was something part of my psyche thought had passed me by. But my heart never gave up despite the battle scars and wounds it had endured. Even in dark times when I had consciously wanted it to stop believing, to let go of the enduring spark, it didn’t.

Love always wins. It always wins.

Sometimes that victory is a production number of epic, Hollywood proportions. Sometimes it’s so hard to tell that love has won or endured that you don’t realize it until months or years later. And then there are times, like our engagement, when the subtlety of love’s triumph is a comfortable blessing.

It’s not easy to believe that love always wins. It’s even harder to live with that authenticity. It takes practice and energy and fierceness.

Love is not weakness. It is the perfect strength.

Energetically, romantically, physically, and, oddly enough, physiologically, love emanates from our heart—a part of our anatomy and consciousness that sustains us while at the same time leaving itself vulnerable and open to emotional upheaval, loss, and grief. In those moments, those visceral moments when we feel our heart breaking, that’s when it’s most difficult to believe that love always wins. This is particularly true when anger and cynicism become the scar tissue under which the heart continues to heal.

When my mother went into cardiac arrest and her spirit left this side of the universe, I felt my heart rip into destruction. For months and years afterward, the sensation of emptiness in my chest was, at first, disconcerting before becoming my new normal. I stopped feeling warmth there, in my core. I was the last person to believe that love always wins. All the while, my heart was undergoing some strange alchemy I had yet to acknowledge. When loss begat loss, I became numb to the metamorphosis happening.

To transmute something is to change its substance, its form. The shredding of my heart allowed for transmutation to occur, if I was willing. Heart stuff is hard work. It ain’t for sissies. Putting things back together in a new way while allowing yourself to share your vulnerability takes more strength than is traditionally recognized.

In this case, love won in a variety of ways. First, I learned the sacrifice of love through the actions of my mother. By choosing not to disclose her illness until it was too late, I like to think that she was trying to spare us for as long as possible. Knowing the score and how much pain she had to endure for so long, I doubt I’ll ever know a stronger person in this life.

Love won again when I rebuilt my heart and opened it back up for business, knowing how different it was from the garden variety, knowing how sensitive it had become to suffering. For whatever reason, compassion is not attractive or sexy to the mainstream. But I refused to present myself in a fashion only suitable for superficial romance.

Love scored a major victory when I took ownership of my worth. And when I recognized my fiancé for who he was while we were still getting to know each other and before the proposal crossed his lips, love won yet again.

My heart has now expanded beyond what even I could have imagined, often feeling so full it might burst. And it’s warm. My heart is warm for the first time in years.

Maybe this all sounds cliché. To me, it’s just a blessed reality. I have no illusions that this is a fairytale or perfection. Our relationship is grounded in the complexity of reality. And that’s where we both want it. Neither of us was looking for an ideal. We were both looking for authentic compassion and passion.

And in that reality, love wins all over again, every day.

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A Gratuitous Channing Tatum Post

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Here are a few old-school Channing Tatum shots from his early days as a male model (and stripper if we are to believe the loosely-autobiographical ‘Magic Mike‘ movie.) Mr. Tatum has surfaced here a number of times (particularly his back end) and as the world gears up to seeing more stripping scenes in ‘Magic Mike XXL’ I offer these photos to whet your appetite.

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Hunk of the Day: Roger Frampton

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Fitness guru and international model Roger Frampton has one of those enviable jobs that coincides with his passions. He’s developed his own workout routine and method, and if it’s in any way responsible for his physical condition (and it is) then we should all be doing it his way. The evidence follows, in this magnificently fit Hunk of the Day post.

PS – That’s you do a proper tattoo. Understated yet powerful.

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Fish on Fridays

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Returning to Boston with a dish of fish in tow, I hold onto a lingering bit of residual Catholic guilt and maintain a no-meat-on-Fridays regime during the Lenten season. Half-magic, half-faith, half-idiocy, I was raised in such a fucked-up manner that if eating fish on Fridays is all that remains, I’ll take the quirk and feign healthy living for the judgment of unbelieving heathens. This weekend I’ll be seeing my friend Kira, whom I haven’t hung out with since last year and our Holiday Stroll. (This is one of those mundane, factual posts that is much more exciting to write than I’m guessing it is to read, but since I’m writing it, too bad.)

All of the snow has kept me from the city for longer a stretch than I’ve grown accustomed to – and it’s been sorely missed. I try to return to Boston for a regular dose of civilization, and the past few months have left me bereft of Boston magic. That all changes this weekend, and it will be good to simply walk the snow-ravaged cobblestone with Kira and catch up on all that’s transpired since the calendar year turned over.

I’m also going to prematurely suggest the idea of spring cleaning, just putting it out there into the universe, along with the possibility of some project work too since I’m being all ambitious, but it’s entirely possible, and more than likely, that both will fall by the wayside as I simply ingratiate myself with the city in quiet, non-working fashion. Run on, little/long sentence, run on.

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Jumping Jonquils

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The garden party is in the house, and these Narcissus are having a gnarly good time. Bright and cheerful in color and fragrance, they spill their joy from the mouth of a glass vase. Sitting beside me as I write these posts, they spread their petals while peppering the surroundings with the prettiest perfume. As part of his Jardin Noir series of Private Blends, Tom Ford comes close with ‘Jonquille de Nuit’ and its immediate dry-down, but fell short of capturing the lightness of this ethereal, intoxicating scent (instead falling victim to an over-riding jasmine feel.)

A jonquil will never be so easily captured. Theirs is a magic that is ephemeral.

It dissipates with the lightest wind, disappearing with the brush of a passing figure.

Yet for all their delicate and fleeting olfactory tumescence, they must be incredibly hardy and insistent, especially if they are to survive the wilds of the spring season.

These lucky blooms have the luxury and protection of being brought into their glory within the pampered environs of a heated house.

They bring an otherwise-delayed sense of spring indoors, and it’s never been more welcome.

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Hunk of the Day: Noah Galloway

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Certain Hunks of the Day raise inspiration to a whole new level. This is Noah Galloway. Currently appearing in ‘Dancing with the Stars’ Mr. Galloway (like Alex Minsky) fronts a new definition of what makes a person a Hunk. In his case, it’s hard work, perseverance, and never making excuses. Check out his full bio below for even more divine inspiration.

A native of Birmingham, Alabama, Sergeant Noah Galloway was assigned to the 1st of the 502nd Infantry of the 101st Airborne Division out of Fort Campbell, Kentucky during Operation Iraqi Freedom.

Just three months in to his second tour of duty, he experienced a life changing injury. On December 19, 2005, Galloway lost his left arm above the elbow and left leg above the knee in an Improvised Explosive Device attack. He was transported to Germany to receive medical treatment, remaining unconscious for five days. Galloway woke up late in the evening on Christmas Eve to learn he lost two of his limbs and sustained severe injuries to his right leg and his jaw. Galloway was then transferred to Walter Reed Army Medical Center in Washington, DC.

After a long stint in recovery and rehabilitation, Galloway did what many disabled veterans do, becoming withdrawn, out of shape and depressed. The former fitness fanatic and hyper competitive athlete was now drinking, smoking and sleeping his days away. But late one night, Galloway took a long look in the mirror and realized there was more to him than the injuries. And he set a goal to get back in shape, be healthier and inspire others.

Now a personal trainer and motivational speaker, Galloway doesn’t take excuses from his clients, fans and followers – and finds ways to get things done. He continues to compete, participating in adventure races around the country, such as Tough Mudder, Spartan events, Crossfit competitions plus numerous 5K and 10K races.

A sought after public speaker, Galloway travels the country sharing his story, encouraging and motivating others to offer no excuses. From elementary school assemblies to veterans organizations to corporate sales meetings, Galloway’s enthusiasm for life and his passion for helping others brings a unique perspective to gatherings.

Most recently, Galloway appeared on the November cover of Men’s Health Magazine, as he was named the publication’s 2014 Ultimate Guy. He’s also been a guest on numerous national talk shows including Ellen and The Today Show.

A firm believer in giving back to those around him in need, Galloway recently created the No Excuses Charitable Fund, which raises money and awareness for organizations that mean the most to him, including Operation Enduring Warrior and the YMCA of Alabaster, AL.

Galloway, a father of three, currently resides in Alabaster, AL.

~ From

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