After the Oscars, A Recap

Oddly enough, this recap will have little if anything to do with the Oscars. Barring some catastrophic fashion moment or live mishap, I’m not going crazy with the award shows this year. Maybe that will change come Tony time. Or depending on the brilliance of Neil Patrick Harris. Or both in the event that he hosts again. Onto last week’s shenanigans now…

It started on a sultry note, the anti-thesis of all the wintry nonsense that just won’t quit. Here, the hot body of William Levy just won’t quit either.

The scent of winter, turned on its head in delightful fashion, thanks to L’Eau d’Hiver by the ever-elegant Jean-Claude Ellena.

A hunk of worldwide fame and acclaim, and hailing from my ancestral islands, the newly-crowned Mister International Neil Perez.

This is my ultimate fantasy, and it’s a hot one.

Speaking of hot, here is Robbie Amell flexing his pecs.

Blow this.

With Cole Monahan, it’s all about the hair. And the body. And the butt.

A hazy winter memory.

How Hudson Taylor hadn’t been named a Hunk of the Day until this past week is one of life’s mysteries, now put to rest.

Despite my cynical, jaded countenance, I still succumb to feel-good moments like this.

Get your red-hot ginger GIFs right here, in the form of Bryce Eilenberg.

Tom Ford made a splash in LA, and all I wanted to do was be there in ‘Lavender Palm.’

The Special Guest Blog this week was written by a cat. Really, it was. Millie purred and preened and showed off the proverbial power of the pussy.

The imagination of dragons set to song.

Once upon a time I wanted shit on a condom. Vote for this site anyway!

Oh, and Neil Patrick Harris got into his tighty-whities in front of a billion people, which was the best part of the Oscars.

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