Because it’s still Friday and we’re closing it out with a bang. This is model David Gandy and some of his work for Dolce & Gabbana. Not sure what it says about a fashion house when they choose to feature such limited views of actual clothing, but in this instance it seems to work.

I’ve always maintained that this is a site free from full-frontal male nudity (I’m sure there’s a Madonna breast floating around somewhere, and there still might be an alleged Jake Gyllenhaal penis shot in the archives (get hunting)), but we’re not quite going the porn route here. Not yet – sorry. Although the photo below might as well be a full-frontal peen shot – I’ll have to look into the shaft-skin-to-cloth ratio to verify.

From a new Dolce & Gabbana book.

For this year’s first gratuitous bit of naked male eye-candy, I give you David Gandy. A favorite of Dolce & Gabbana, you may remember Mr. Gandy and his white Speedo from their Light Blue cologne promos.

I stumbled upon these photos while desperately searching for the inspiration to work out again and start eating healthier (both difficult tasks had taken a backseat to holiday revelry and gluttony). Now I kneel before the Altar of David and pray for the miraculous transformation of Pillsbury Dough Boy to Hard Body. Preferably before swimsuit season, and preferably on a cheesecake diet. Hey, if you’re going to pray you might as well pray for the stars.

(Proof that even beautiful people get wedgies.)

This is an out-take (I think) of Madonna’s latest Dolce & Gabbana ad campaign. It was not used in the first part of the campaign, and that was a wise decision. From her awkward-albeit-agile stance to the ruinous mess it makes of her wardrobe (yes, it’s Madonna, but it’s still a fashion ad, no?) this just doesn’t work for me. What’s worse, for some reason the work she’s had done on her face seems more apparent here than in other recent photos.

There is an art to editing, and pulling back at just the right moment. Madonna has always been a master of that – only releasing the very best images of herself, and the very best songs. [I used to think she could do no musical wrong, but in recent years her B-sides have convinced me to leave well enough alone and stop hoping for a B-side compilation. ('Cyberraga' anyone? 'Keep the Trance'?)]

This photo, like most of her B-sides, is simply not one of my favorites. (But to be honest, I’m just happy to see her out of sunglasses, a ponytail, scarf and hat. When is she going to finish this directing stuff already?)

The new Dolce & Gabbana campaign featuring Madonna has been out for a while, but I think it’s such a major improvement from her last outing with the Italian designers that it deserves to be seen again. The first one above is my favorite of them all. The one below reminds me of her photo-shoot with Mario Testino for Vanity Fair heralding the release of Ray of Light in 1998.

And finally, the requisite “Madonna Holding a Cock” shot.

Images courtesy of Madonnatribe.com.

I make about thirty minutes of calls a month. That’s right, a month – without exaggeration (and I’m usually drunk when I do call anyone, so they more often than not hang up on me immediately). I never text and don’t even know how. There was one time when my butt must have inadvertently attempted to access some feature that cost extra, so I had everything but the phone part of it taken off of my contract. Here’s how that exchange went:

Verizon: “You accessed our such-and-such application for nine seconds on November 12 and typed out the following message: “cvnsdfhvka”.”

Me: “Umm, how many other times did I access this feature?”

Verizon: “Let me check… it looks like that was the only time.”

Me: “So does it sound like I was really trying to use it, or even had the slightest clue as to how to use it?”

Verizon: “Well, I don’t know.”

Me: “Okay, let’s just remove that from the bill this time, and can you child-proof whatever that was so it doesn’t accidentally happen again? Thanks!”

They were good enough to not charge me, but if my butt had done anything for longer than nine seconds I would have had to pay for it, I’m sure.

{Obligatory and gratuitous shot of what almost cost me a couple of cents.}

I’m slightly at a loss as to what to do with the phone upgrade now. The last phone I really wanted was the Dolce & Gabbana Gold Razor, which again points out how far out of the phone loop I really am. The other one that caught my eye is the iPhone, though to be honest for someone like me I’m afraid it would be a colossal waste. Still, the idea of having internet access while traveling is a big draw, and a number of friends whom I respect have said an iPhone is the best part of their lives (I no longer respect them so much).

Some have said that a Blackberry would offer the same things that I’d use an iPhone for, minus the sleek style, though I lack the Lilliputian build to utilize those microscopic keyboards. To that end, I began looking into an iPad for its more human dimensions regarding keyboard options, which is about as far as one can get from my current cheap (free) phone from Verizon.

That’s where I’m at right now – uncomfortably and uncharacteristically undecided, and on the fence for phone options. Luckily the limbo can last from month to month, as opposed to being locked into a two-year contract, so for the moment there is respite and breathing room there, but also the danger of having too much time for too many options and far too much head spinning for an already-spun-out head.

The number one thing I like about the relationship I have with my phone is that it’s nonexistent. Part of me is afraid that if I get one of those all-encompassing iPhones I’ll turn into one of the pod people, eyes down at their palm-held devices, unable to follow a conversation or maintain eye contact or share a dinner without checking what the rest of the world is doing, and that’s something I vowed to never become. One of the main things I’ve learned in life is how important it is to be fully and wholly present, not just out of respect to those around us, but to make the most of life for ourselves. It is, I fear, a lost art, and I’m not sure I want to risk losing it myself.

It’s no secret that I love Madonna, and have for about 25 years. She had me at “You’ve got style, That’s what all the girls say.” Yet within that quarter century of obsession, fanaticism, admiration, and occasional ambivalence, I’ve only dreamt of her three times.
 
The first was around the release of Truth or Dare – or a little afterward, in 1991. In the dream she was wearing the Dolce & Gabbana bejeweled body-stocking/corset number that she wore to the New York premiere for the movie, and she had brunette hair and smoky eyes. I forget what I said to her, but she seemed friendly and responsive to it, so “it was a good dream.”
 
The second one I can’t quite remember, but I believe it came around the time of her Reinvention Tour. I think she invited me and Andy to hang out after a show or something.
 
This third one was last night, and it was much more detailed and memorable. I was hanging out with Matthew Rettenmund (of Boy Culture and The Encyclopedia Madonnica fame) and we were at his house. This was both strange and fitting: strange in that I’ve never met Matt in person, fitting in that he’s the Madonna expert and go-to guy, as well as a kindred fan and admirer.
 
Anyway, in the dream Madonna comes into the room we’re in, and just plops herself down in a chair. Her hair is again a deep brunette, and piled in a loosely-curled mop on her head. She mentions that she has a new watch but nowhere to put it, so Matt comes out with a watch holder like they have in jewelry stores. For some reason she signs it, “Matt gave me this!” with a pen, and he is giddy.
 
At that moment, I take out a tissue and blow my nose. “Did you just stick your fingers in your nose?” she asks.
 
“I used a tissue! I’m not a heathen!” I reply indignantly. She is amused and laughs a little. Sensing my chance, I ask her the only question I can think of at the moment (and I know it’s lame, but it’s all I really want to know about right then): “So what’s the new record going to sound like?”
 
“I don’t know,” she says.
 
“Liar!” I say with a smile. She gives a little laugh.
 
“Seriously, I have no idea.”
 
And then, abruptly and too soon, the dream is over.

These are the latest images form Madonna’s Dolce & Gabbana campaign, as shot by Steven Klein. While I think they’re superior to the first batch, I’m still hung up (in a not-so-great way) on the wig. What happened to the days of styling your own natural hair? (Granted, natural hair and Madonna haven’t always gotten together, but I miss her actual tresses.) I mean, I think the least you can do for a few million dollars is sit around for a few hours of hair and make-up.

That said, I do think these are wonderful, and it’s nice to see Klein creating something more traditionally beautiful than off-putting and edgy.

(I won’t even begin the witch commentary that will undoubtedly ensue with the above shot, but if anyone can defy gravity, I’d bet on Madonna.)

This is one of Steven Klein’s photos for Madonna’s upcoming Dolce & Gabbana campaign. While I normally champion just about everything she does, there are moments when I simply can’t get behind her. (Her collaboration with Gap, the second part of her Louis Vuitton ads, the shoddy efforts she put into every Greatest Hits album after The Immaculate Collection… to name but a few.) Of this preview pic (and the others I’ve seen, which show her doing mundane things like washing dishes, peeling fruit, and eating spaghetti with her bare hands) I’m a bit on the fence.

I went to Matt, my main go-to-guy when it comes to all things Madonna, and he seemed to be embracing them, so I’m giving them another chance, but my initial gut reaction was one of disappointment. I guess I was expecting some sort of ultra-glamourous scene when Dolce & Gabbana were involved. I get the concept here of turning that on its head, I’m just not sure I like it as much as I’ve liked previous work she’s done (like her first Versace campaign). I also feel like we’ve seen her do this sort of juxtaposition before – as in feeding the chickens in a dress and heels, or standing before a dirty Argentinean industrial site in formal white gloves and gown.

I will reserve final judgment until I see the ad campaign when it hits magazines. Until then, I remain unimpressed.