The first thing I noticed about the above photo of Chase Finlay, a dancer in the New York City Ballet company, was the outfit – I swear. Once upon a time, I might have pulled that off. I believe it’s for his role in Balanchine’s ‘Apollo’. (It would have been perfect for my role as Avenue Pub out-of-town whore circa 1998.) Ahh, youth…
Do you really expect me to believe that Frank Ocean found salvation at the pyramid of John Mayer? Mr. Mayer’s pyramid has been climbed by far too many ladies for this to ever be true. Regardless of how you read it, here’s the NSFW video (and NSFWWW.ALANILAGAN.COM given the naked boobies):
Justin Timberlake has been rather quiet of late, at least musically – and I don’t believe I’ve seen any of his movies other than his voice-over for one of the ‘Shrek’ films – oh wait, there was ‘The Social Network’ and he was very good in that. I’ve seen some of his comedic acting chops on ‘Saturday Night Live’ (that was his ‘Dick in a Box’) but nothing else. His music was the area of his to which I paid the most attention (and even then it wasn’t much after he left N’Sync – yeah, I’m one of those gays – give me a boy band and I’ll sing and dance).
At any rate, here’s his naked butt, from one of those movies I have yet to watch, ‘Friends With Benefits’.
Personally, I don’t mind where he derives his most satisfactory creative fulfillment, as long as he does a few photo shoots (like the one that produced the picture below) aimed at the audience that comes here. Hey Justin, we’re you’re bread and butter. Spread some.
According to Queerty, Reichen Lehmkuhl is heading to law school to get away from the evil blogger queens (excuse me?) who are attacking him for being so perfect. Here is how he puts it: “As much as I will miss the illustrious and fabulous life of an ‘A-list reality star,’ being public, being subject to the small but progressive, loud and proud, “gay-hate and take-down-other gays†judgment machine, and being the target of gossip from the flawless corps of amazingly accomplished, secure, sassy, role model bloggers of the gay media hate-o-sphere… the dignity department of my soul tells me that it’s time for a new direction.”
Not sure law school is the way to go, but at least he’ll be able to figure out if he has any chance of successfully suing folks for putting up those full-frontal images of the jerk-off session he did online – wait, can you sue your own self? Check into that, Reichen. (We don’t do full-frontal here, so you’ll have to look those up yourself; I’ll give you his ass as a consolation prize.)
Both of these guys is playing football today, though I couldn’t tell you where or when or what team they might be on. I don’t even know if it’s the National or American League. The point of this post is to make a determination as to which player is hotter. (This is where important decisions get decided.) Personally, it’s a tough call – they’re equally unremarkable – but I’d have to give the slight edge to Mark Sanchez. Especially when he gets the GQ treatment. He just cleans up better.
I’m not saying my decision is final – and we all know I’m someone who changes his tastes as time goes on. To be honest, a year or two ago my position would have been the opposite. It took a while for Mr. Sanchez to grow on me, and a little Tebow-overexposure-exhaustion to set in. Then there’s the hair – soft curls trump gel spikes any day.
The last blooms of the season are somehow always more resonant. They may not be as flashy (though these may give argument to that) but there is something about the impending demise of the garden that gives them more import and urgency, thereby lending an impact that might otherwise be lost. At any other point in the Summer, blooms as soft as these would pale next to the hot-hued yellows and oranges that dominate the high season. They seem to have waited along with their neighbors – the Seven Sons’ flower, the Sweet Autumn Clematis, and the Bluebeard – to make their presence felt at the most precious and opportune time. I like a plant that knows the value of good timing. I like a person that knows that even better.
You don’t always know when it’s going to be the last time you do something, but this recent swim felt like it was indeed the last one of the season. The air has changed, the night no longer retains the day’s heat, and the pool temperature has done steadily down – these last few evenings quite drastically. So when Andy said he had pumped up the heater for one final day of reasonably warm weather, we both knew it would probably be the last. Â For this post, I’ll indulge in a little looking back… well, maybe for one more Summer Recap post as well. That’s what the end of summer is for, anyway – reflection, pondering, evaluation, contemplation, and reconciliation. This one especially, when things have changed… and when things are going to change. Nothing gold can stay. Soon, though, there will be too much excitement and movement to mourn over all that came before. Are we ready to brave the Fall? I think we are…
Mention ‘manscaping’ and you have an instant extra two or three visitors just on the prowl for a bit of innocent smut. Sorry for the perverted ploy, but I wanted to point out the repopulated posts I’ve been working my perky ass off for this whole weekend. (One man’s shave is another man’s cheap promotional stunt. Besides, there are still some who haven’t checked out The Galleries yet…)
Earlier I mentioned (and listed) the Archives for November 2011, December 2011, January 2012, and February 2012. Â I’ve since added two more months that have some bang-up material, and it’s a neat look back at what was happening exactly a year ago.
September 2011 found a travel-filled month expounding upon adventures in Las Vegas, NV and Washington, DC (that White House peeing incident), along with a call for Anderson Cooper to come out (now rather quaint, and I suppose I owe him a follow-up letter), as well as my virgin spa experience.
October 2011 was filled with some memorable moments as well, including some theater reviews, my first Awards Dinner (and its accompanying overdose on plaid), and a preview of Michael Phelps and his Speedo. A couple of cocktail recipes round out last year’s Fall season, so please take a look and see how it compares to what is about to come.
It’s a Saturday of requests, and up next (and probably last, as I’m beat) is Jason Statham. My friend JoAnn will be glad to see Mr. Statham has returned to this blog in all his shirtless glory. For some reason, she wants to have all his love children, minus the children part. I don’t quite see the appeal here, but there are many who do, so this is for you.
Why is it that those who take up boxing are in the best shape? How does punching things work such wonders on the body? I wish I could get excited about it, but I just don’t think my knuckles can do that, and the idea of punching an inanimate object like a punching bag has always seemed the height of foolish pointlessness.
Never let it be said that I don’t pander to those fine folks who takes the time to visit this site – and this post goes out to Sara, who requested a little Ryan Gosling today. While he’s never been a favorite of mine, there’s no denying that he has a certain appeal, starting with those pecs. If ever there was a walking advertisement for working out and tanning, this is it. I can do the tanning part in the summer – it’s the work-out portion that always gives me pause.
And for those who’d like to look closer into his eyes…
Birthday greetings go out to Prince Harry, apparently the most fun Royal that England has going for it today (with the possible exception of Kate, pending publication of her topless pics). I think we’re all still coming off the high of seeing his memorable Las Vegas naked photos (censored and uncensored).
It’s a glorious, albeit cool, sunny Saturday morning, but instead of being outside or at some apple orchard or selecting the perfect pair of mums for the front porch, I am inside in front of a lap top and trying valiantly to update the Archives of this site. Not that I’m complaining – it’s a labor of love, and I need to learn how to honor and respect the past instead of pretending none of it ever happened (with the possible exception of an outfit or goatee). This is all in service of next year’s gala anniversary celebration for a decade of www.ALANILAGAN.com (and by ‘next year’, that means in a few short months).
For the moment, I’ll direct you to the updated Archive links for the following months:
February 2012 (Super Bowl, Jockstraps, Shame & Secrets!)
January 2012 (Madonna, Beckham’s Bulge! & My Old Addiction!)
December 2011 (Holiday! Celebration! Come together in every nation!)
November 2011 (A Cheesecake Boy and My Favorite Madonna Song of All-Time!)
That’s a lot of exclamation points, and I HATE explanation points, so you know this is no joke. Check it out!!!
When Anderson Cooper sent me an e-mail saying that Jake Gyllenhaal would be on his talk show next week, I was elated. (Okay, maybe he didn’t personally send me that e-mail, and maybe it didn’t go solely to me, but if this is what it takes to brighten up a Saturday morning, just go with the flow of delusion.) The idea of Jake and Anderson meeting must create a new gay galaxy somewhere in the universe. In honor of that occasion it seems the perfect time to revisit Jake Gyllenhaal’s naked ass (as I believe the posts that did so prior did not get reposted yet. There’s also a full-frontal shot of Mr. Gyllenhaal rumored to be floating around this site somewhere… and with the new archives slowly shuffling into place, it may be easier to find…) In the meantime, here is his backside.
Despite my love for all things Anne Hathaway, and my appreciation of Jake and the  junk in his trunk (and elsewhere) I have not seen the movie these shots are from, ‘Love & Other Drugs’. Why sit through a whole movie when the shots you want will be up on the internet anyway? That’s what blogging whores like me are for.
This is purportedly the cover for the new Ben Cohen calendar for 2013. That is all.
