Alan Ilagan

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.)

Because it’s Monday, and we need a little Christmas.

Plus, he’s single now, and even though I’m not, some people are. This butt’s for them.

This is an addendum to the earlier Sexy Santa post, for those who wanted Stuart Pilkington to lose his underwear and his hat. On the good-will-to-men front, these naked photos were part of the Checkum campaign for raising awareness of testicular cancer. I’m sure that’s not all they raised.

As for Mr. Pilkington, he is wearing way too much guyliner/eyeliner, and everything but his face is far too smooth. This sort of manscaping has all but left him a eunuch, and that is kind of embarrassing.

As somewhat promised in a recent post, I’ve put together a collection of website promo photos in The Pictures section. Yes, this is a blatant and gratuitous bit of filler as I prepare for our tenth annual holiday party this weekend, but no one has complained about gratuitous male nudity before, so Happy Holidays Jeff, Rob, & Peter. More photos here.

(Joe Jonas and his butt-crack coin-slot  have nothing on me.)

Or at least time for a holiday photo card re-cap – this time an out-take from the 2005 photo card sessions. One of the racier holiday cards, the sole Christmas connotation was a pair of fur-lined rubber boots. I almost used this version because it expressed the true fun of nipple clamps (the final product is on The Pictures page, which added a mask and some finger accoutrements).

(For the uninitiated, this is all leading up to this year’s Holiday Photo Card reveal at the end of the week, to coincide with our 10th Holiday Party.)

On an average day, I’m showered and dressed by 7 AM. On this day, I just stepped out of the shower a little after 4:30 PM, and right back into my pajamas. However, because I believe in truth in title posts, here’s a glimpse of said shower.

Next up on the loose agenda is a wardrobe decision regarding next week’s Beaujolais Night to support the AIDS Council of New York. It’s all about the coat… and there might be some sewing involved. Andy has returned from his banking excursions, and I’m hoping he has some dinner ideas…

[Above pic is Ben Cohen, some sort of ball player. How rich is that?]

Ben Cohen is my kind of man. Not too perfect, not too shaved, not too thin. And not too close to anyone’s idea of what they assume I would find attractive.

My taste in men has been largely non-traditional. Aside from the occasional moment of appreciation for the uniquitous David Beckham bulge or butt, and the brief admiration of a shirtless Chris Evans or naked Jake Gyllenhaal, I just don’t find the usual torch-carriers of male beauty all that impressive.

George Clooney? Gross. Brad Pitt? Yawn. Tom Cruise? Ca-raaaazzzy.

 Maybe it’s the way they’ve been built up or put on the cover of Vanity Fair all these years. There’s something about a hugely popular figure that everybody else thinks is gorgeous that makes me subconsciously seek out beauty of a different sort. It’s the same thing that happens when many male models make me yawn more than anything else. Perfection is tedious, it’s boring. And it’s not to be found outside of the photoshopped pages of magazines and fashion blogs.

[See, this is how manscaping should be done: a bit of trimming, then leave well enough alone.]

The guys I find most attractive are those who are more real, those with a bit of baggage around their midsection, or a less-than muscular build – the dorks and nerds. I prefer a real man with a healthy field of chest hair, or someone who’s got an extra pound or two, someone who’s lived life enjoying a couple of beers or carb-loaded pasta dishes. Twinks and muscle-heads need not apply. Take your waifish, your plucked, your oiled masses and leave them outside of my realm of desire. I’ll take a real man like my husband over such nonsense any day.

(And Ben Cohen, only because he’s straight and unavailable.)

Note on this blog’s continued evolution: You may have noticed that of late I’ve been featuring other guy candy on this space more than my own less-than-perfect physique. It’s all a part of the evolving nature of a personal website, and the realization that my half-naked ass won’t sustain this forever. That’s not to say I won’t drop trou now and then, or doff a shirt for a pool pic, but it’s more interesting to see what a guy can do beyond the skin and booty pics. If you do miss them, there’s always The Pictures portion of this site, or better yet, The Projects page, where most of me can found in various states of undress. And both shall be updated shortly…