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The Debut December Recap

The first week of December has come and gone, which means we’re hurtling toward Christmas and New Year’s at an alarming rate. Slow this sleigh down, I say! In an effort to do that, let’s look back. It seems that dwelling in the past is the only way to slow the future, or something like that. Whatever, it’s Monday, and time for a recap.

A couple of Hunks were requested this week (something that is always welcomed and more often than not honored) starting with Oraine Barrett.

The closest I’ve been to a naked breast since college.

And speaking of naked breasts, I give you Madonna.

I finished decorating the house for the holidays! Just one room, but still…

The beautiful Ben Cohen shows off in a new calendar.

Remembering December once

Twice

Three times a lady.

More hunky goodness, in the forms of Patrick Mitchell & Bryce Thompson.

More bush.

And even more hunks than you can a bat an eye at.

Care to share a Christmas Waltz? 1-2-3…

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A Christmas Waltz

Fulfilling a promise made in this Christmas kick-off post, here is ‘The Christmas Waltz’ as interpreted by Doris Day herself. A fitting performance from a woman who epitomized the sugar-coating in which we’d all like to believe. With a voice soft as warm butter, an earnest wish for a happy holiday season, and a wholesome throwback to an era that exists only in pictures and dreams, it’s a saccharine treat with an underlying bit of wistfulness that cuts it just enough to be deadly.

Frosted window-panes, candles gleaming inside, painted candy canes on the tree
Santa’s on his way, he’s filled his sleigh with things, things for you and for me.
It’s the time of year when the world falls in love,
Every song you hear seems to say, ‘Merry Christmas, may your New Year dreams come true.’
And this song of mine, in three-quarter time wishes you and yours the same thing too.

It’s the perfect song to go with a Christmas cocktail. Not with a loud and boisterous crew, not with a gaggle of gregarious friends, but alone, on your own, surrounded by the dull drone of strangers, the few friendly words of a bartender, the solitude and sadness of Christmas, no matter how loved you are by the masses. Because if you’re not loved by the one person you want to love you back, the rest of it doesn’t seem to matter.

I’ve often wondered at the happiness that everyone else seems to feel at Christmas. Don’t get me wrong, I feel it too, in my niece and nephew, in my friends and family, in my husband and parents – but there’s always been something intrinsically sad to this time of the year. Maybe because it’s so close to the end of it, so near the darkest and shortest days of the season. No one wants to talk about that. It’s easier to turn your face to the sparkling lights, the bombast, the glitter and the drums. Better to hear the dulcet tones of Doris Day than the throbbing ticking of the time clock, running out for another year, reminding you of everything you never got to do.

And so we waltz along on a holiday breeze, we raise a glass and a toast to the season. The violins swell, the chimes charm, and it’s simple to get swept away with the voice of Miss Day. How can you resist? Why would you try?

It’s that time of year when the world falls in love,
Every song you hear seems to say, ‘Merry Christmas, may your New Year dreams come true.’
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December Recollections ~ Part 3

Lest we forget, December does not end with Christmas Day. In fact, its reach extends until the very last day of the year. That tends to get lost in the importance we place on that one special day. Yet as you can see, the days following the big one can be just as beautiful, and just as important. In a single day, a whole life can change.

Sometimes the moments following Christmas ring more festively, especially if there’s been a snowfall.

It starts quietly, in the amber light on the cherry bark, the same light caught in the Northern oats.

The dusk of Boston nestles before the New Year.

It’s the time of the year when snow is still new, and still somewhat welcome.

Sparkle and shine.

Before it begins again

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December Recollections ~ Part 2

Memories of Decembers past continue to occupy today’s posts, continuing with this choice bit of family jeweldom. They weren’t the only red objects on holiday display, however, as evidenced by these bulbous bobs of spicy earth-bound sustenance.

The jewels beneath the ground weren’t limited to those in the red, but those in the gold as well.

I’ve got the second part down pat. The first too, actually.

Bang my wall, Harvey.

The woman needs no defense, but here one is anyway.

I love pink pants.

We were all kids, once…

And some of us were luckier than others.

Coda.

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December Recollections ~ Part 1

Newly into the month, let’s look back a year or two ago and recall where we were way back when… starting with this Christmas rose memory. This, for me at least, the best part of the season – when all is hope and possibility, all is yet to come. The rush is not quite there, the worry not yet a true presence. Wait for it, just wait.

Three photos that tell three thousand stories.

It seems unlikely that we will get to make a third Holiday stroll this year, but the first was such a joy that I’ll be damned if I don’t try. I mean, come on!

Like a virgin… strolling for the very first time.

This is still funny. A mother-fucking quiche.

December brings out the ego and insecurity in some of us….

And the family fun in others.

Amid the fog

A cock.

The ultimate office holiday bash.

A little bit of the devil keeps the angels at bay.

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A Brief Ben Cohen Encapsulation

He’s probably overtaken David Beckham as the favorite son of this blog, in no small part thanks to photos like these, which manage to capture huskiness and sexiness and manliness in one fell swoop. Not that Mr. Beckham doesn’t still do so, but not in quite the same straight-ally form. For that, we are forever grateful and appreciative.

Ben Cohen has been a stalwart presence here, and he’s got a new calendar about to be released, one which contains his first-ever centerfold. How we ever survived without a centerfold before this blows my mind, but that’s the effect Mr. Cohen has had on most of us over the years. Let’s just be thankful that it’s here now.

As for his previous appearances here on this site, allow me to direct you to the only ones you need to view: this definitive pictorial, and this more resonant straight ally piece. Between the two you’ll find more than enough fodder for whatever you had in mind.

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Deco World

Some years I can’t be bothered with Christmas decorations. Like last year, for example, when we were in the midst of a kitchen renovation. The house was falling apart around us, and the last thing I wanted was holly and tinsel to provide the intricate bed for dust and debris. Other years I’ve gone all out, decorating every room in every conceivable theme. This time, I’m somewhere in-between, erring on the side of less-is-more. Only the living room has gotten a holiday treatment, as the kitchen is still too pristine to muck up with fake evergreen paraphernalia and musty bows.

I think it’s enough. Even better, it’s done. That’s all that matters right now. Welcome to the holidays.

 

 

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Greatest Hits of Hunkdom

There are certain men who come and go on this site awfully quickly, but there are others who come, and come back for more. This post is a brief collection of some of the greatest hunks that have graced the site over the years. Each is a classic in his own right – and a few even have their own sub-category here (an honor usually reserved for the likes of Madonna or Tom Ford).

We begin with Harry Judd, who’s taken off trou here even more than Nick Jonas. Mr. Judd has been in his underwear, and out of it, sharing his birthday cake, and his birthday suit with equal aplomb.

Next up is Darren Criss, of ‘Glee’ fame. My bad-gay confession is that I haven’t seen the show in years. Is it still on? Makes no matter. Mr. Criss is beautiful with or without a singing showcase on the boob tube.

Speaking of those with fantastic sub-categories, here is Ben Cohen. Click on this and keep scrolling down, down, and down.

Tom Daley has a pretty substantial sub-category too, but Jack Mackenroth has a more bountiful booty.

Last but not least is Dan Osborne. He’s been here more times than I can right off recall, but notable appearances include this naked one, this nude one, this totally starkers one, and this one of his ass.

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Bushens, Better-Known as The Magic Garden

When I was kid, I didn’t have quite the vocabulary that I have now. My ‘penis’ was my ‘thing’ and as Suzie recently brought to light, I had no word for ‘vagina’ (nor an occasion to use it.) So when I tried to convey to my parents, before I knew any words, that I wanted to watch ‘The Magic Garden’ all I could do was scream out ‘Bushens!’ Eventually, they landed on the channel where the “bushens” were, only it was more accurately known as ‘The Magic Garden.’

‘The Magic Garden’ combined my love for flowers with my love for music, and Carole and Paula would become prototypes for all the good girls I’d befriend over my life. A holiday episode of ‘The Magic Garden’ was recently unearthed, and it turns out these lovely ladies are still performing (and still alive) as seen in this promo for the show.

 

As a kid, I loved the show so much that one of the first records I got was the soundtrack to ‘The Magic Garden’ – on vinyl no less – and I wore it out singing and dancing in my childhood bedroom. Not unlike what goes in my adult bedroom. The lessons were ones for the ages – “You can even get mad at me, but don’t you push me down” – and the setting was the stuff of surreal fantasy. It paved the way for ‘Reading Rainbow‘ and all the other PBS shows I’d come to love.

This is such a strong memory, I can remember sitting in the family room surrounded by the wooden paneling and the plaid sofa. Dad would have been at work, or just coming home from work. Mom would have been in the kitchen or doing something with my brother. I watched Paula and Carole in their garden, singing and harmonizing, walking through the chuckle patch and listening to the flowers laugh. In the middle of a bleak winter, it was a comfort – and it was proof that I was a child once, that I had a childhood, and that it was, for the most part, pretty good.

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Waiting & Anticipating

Madonna has been on my mind of late, even more-so than usual. Further stoking those fires is this latest set of stills from Interview magazine. Colorful, engaging, and still somehow different from what she’s done before (a miraculous challenge in itself if you think about it), these are a bright harbinger of the return of the one woman who has never let me down.

With that in mind, here is a look at some of her highlights while we wait the long wait for the new album to drop sometime next year:

With her ‘Erotica’ album (still a fan favorite) Madonna took sexy anticipation to a whole new level – and she taught us how to f–k.

Back in 1990 she wasn’t the only one who was breathless, especially after this good spanking.

Speculation and adulation, two things she still conjures after all these years.

Like the seasons, Madonna is constant, and Madonna is change.

The lady knows how to rock a hat.

She is a Masterpiece.

She is a Mother.

She is a Sinner.

She is Crazy.

She is everything, and she is more.

Best of all, she’s coming back

 

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Sucking a Tit Two Feet From My Face

I always get in trouble when I decry breastfeeding in certain public places. Let me preface this by saying that I don’t mind when it’s necessary, and I have nothing against the practice at all. A three-hour plane or train ride? Give the kid a drink. A trip to the grocery store to get food for the family? Pop it out and go to town. But a stop at Starbucks? That’s not necessary. And breastfeeding your child in the seat next to me when every other table and chair was open and available? That’s just rude.

My issue is not with breastfeeding in public. There are times when a woman has no other choice. But at Starbucks? No. Starbucks is a choice. Coffee is not a necessity. You can do it in the car or at home before or after your trip to the cafe. Better yet, how about simply remembering, “Oh, I have a baby to breastfeed. I’ll get this coffee to go.” Instead, as I lift a cream-topped peppermint mocha to my lips I see a saggy tit getting suckled by a slobbering baby just two feet from my face. (Hey, if you’re going to do things in public, I’m going to write about it.)

I’ve heard people say that breastfeeding is a natural and beautiful part of life. Well, for some of us masturbating is natural and beautiful. How would you like it if I whipped out my dick and shot a load in my empty Starbucks cup? Eggnog Latte, straight up and coming your way. Some things just don’t belong in Starbucks.

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Snow-Capped Recap

As befits this year’s holiday card (wait for it!) the snow has been unleashed in upstate New York, and with somewhat of a fury at that. It’s a wee bit early, but Thanksgiving was all the prettier for it. No one seems to mind the first few snowfalls of the season (with the possible exception of those in Buffalo).

Handy man-cave-maker Jason Cameron led the charge of Hunks for the week, followed hot on the heels by Matthieu Charneau.

There was a party in my pants, and it went all the way back to the 90’s.

This floral trooper threw a party in its pot, and it was gorgeous.

How you want to pronounce his name is scandalously up to you, but Gregory Nalbone is a Hunk no matter how you say it.

Uncle Al wears leopard pajamas. Duh.

Divine Madness: Joan and Don at Christmas.

More Hunks: Tavi Castro and  Max Emerson.

New Madonna music leaked, and I kind of creamed my pants over it.

Finally, one of my favorite Hunks of All-time: Michael Breyette.

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Madonna: The Original Rebel Heart

While Madonna was with her family in Malawi (doing silly stuff like meeting with political leaders and overseeing the schools she’s opened there) two of the songs from her upcoming album were leaked. ‘Rebel Heart’ and ‘Wash All Over Me’ are the first we’ve heard from Our Lady since the glorious days of the ‘MDNA’ album in 2012. It ended a rather lengthy drought of Madonna music, even if not quite intended yet. While the new tunes have been getting largely positive reviews, there will always be heaters who are gonna hate. (Right Taylor?) Though this isn’t going to be another defense of Madonna, it’s worth noting that if ‘Like A Prayer‘ was released today it would get the same mix of reactions. That’s the problem with giving social media idiots like myself a platform like this.

What about ‘Rebel Heart’? I do love it. It’s a gorgeous return to a strong pop melody, but it’s got a retrospective wisdom that only Madonna could so convincingly espouse at this point in her career. Say what you will about her, she’s still standing, three decades into an unprecedentedly-successful run. And if you’re saying something bad about her, you’re the one who’s sort of stuck in the 80’s.

I lived my life like a masochist
Hearing my father say, “Told you so, told you so – Why can’t you be like the other girls?”
I said, “Oh no, that’s not me,
And I don’t think that it’ll ever be.”

Madonna was the original outsider. Disrespected by the music industry despite her enormous success, dismissed by the Hollywood film industry despite her compelling videos, and derided by would-be-hipsters bitterly jealous of her mainstream success, she forged her way in the face of all the haters. What appealed to some of us from the very beginning was this very defiant stance. She would do it her way. She would will herself into stardom with hard work and determination, and she would stay there for over thirty years (and counting).

Thought I belonged to a different tribe
Walking alone, never satisfied, satisfied
Tried to fit in, but it wasn’t me
I said, “Oh no, I want more, That’s not what I’m looking for.”
So I took the road less-traveled-by, And I barely made it out alive
Through the darkness somehow I survived
Tough love, I knew it from the start, Deep down in the depths of my rebel heart.

For little girls, and a few little gay boys, Madonna’s initial ostracism from critical acclaim gave her an under-dog edge that made her our perpetual heroine. In certain circles it will always be uncool to like Madonna, even more-so to publicly declare that love, but like the woman herself, some of us will not be shamed into silence. “The only thing worse than being talked about is not being talked about.” Besides, if you have to do the talking, chances are you’re not the one being talked about.

I’ve spent some time as a narcissist
Hearing the others say, “Look at you, look at you!”
Trying to be so provocative
I said, “Oh yeah, that was me.
All the things I did, just to be seen.”

This straddles ‘Ray of Light‘ and ‘American Life’ territory, but it reads more genuinely than the latter did. This is more than a simple ‘Woe is fame’ moment – this is a woman looking back over her choices, and her life,  owning up to some of it, but letting most of it go. It’s serious in a disguised way, with an accessible pop chorus that masks the weight of some of the words.

Outgrown my past and I’ve shed my skin
Letting it go and I start again, start again
Never look back, it’s a waste of time
I said, “Oh yeah, this is me, and I’m right where I wanna be.”
I said, “Hell yeah, this is me, right where I’m supposed to be.”

It took her 56 years to realize this, and though something tells me she’s far from where she wants to go, I’m going to be there every step of the way.

So I took the road less-traveled-by, And I barely made it out alive
Through the darkness somehow I survived
Tough love, I knew it from the start, Deep down in the depths of my rebel heart.
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Sometimes the Snow Comes Down in June

When they came into my brother’s bedroom to tell me the news, I was sitting on the bed listening to the radio. All I could muster was a faint, “Oh.” That was all. What they had told me was that my classmate – a kid I had known for all of my childhood – had shot himself. We were juniors in high school at the time.

Suzie was away for the year in Denmark. There was no one to talk to who might understand how to deal with death. We were all struggling, trying to find a way. A star athlete, a future with such promise, and a boy I used to tease (and who teased me in return) from first to sixth grade. Back then I was brave – braver than I was in high school. Yet for all my cruelty, he never turned the tables on me when he grew a foot taller and put on more muscle than my entire body weight.

As I sat on the bed, and my parents reluctantly left the room – because what more was there to say? – I thought back to the last time I’d seen him. In the hallway of high school, near the end of the day. Our lockers were near one another, and I was hurriedly trying to get what books I needed when I caught him staring at me. I looked up and scowled. “What?” I asked dismissively.

He looked at me. Haunted. Vacant. A little sad. At least, looking back that was the look. At the time I don’t think I saw the sadness in his eyes. He said nothing, only shook his head slowly. I studied the cross he wore around his neck. He felt far away. Far from our days growing up together at McNulty school. Far from the kid whose Mom threw him birthday parties with old-fashioned games like a clothes-pin drop.

On the radio that month, this silly Vanessa Williams song played over and over again. To this day, whenever I hear it, I remember that time. It instantly brings me back. For many reasons, I don’t like listening to it. Once in a while, however, it’s good to remember. It’s necessary not to forget. And it keeps a friend alive in my heart.

Sometimes the snow comes down in June,
Sometimes the sun goes round the moon…

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A Very Mad Start to the Season

And so it begins, whether we like it or not: the Christmas Season. Today marks Black Friday, the one day a year you won’t find me anywhere near a store. This year I’ll be working, and it’s usually my most favorite day of the year to be in the office. Quiet, productive, and generally enjoyable for an introverted extrovert like myself.

As for getting into the holiday spirit, I find it best to revisit old ‘Mad Men’ Christmas episodes, such as the one featured below. It’s one of the best scenes of the series, featuring two powerful people sitting at a bar around the holidays, commiserating and coming to a new place in their working friendship. If you don’t know the show, it won’t mean much, but anyone who’s been watching it should thrill at this clip. Joan and Don. The dialogue crackles, the sparks subtly fly, and the fireworks explode on every atmospheric level. The song to this is perfect too. I’ll feature it more prominently in a later post. For now, enjoy the platonic pulchritude of a world that’s all wrong, and all right.

They are two people who seemingly have it all ~ admired and respected, feared and adored ~ yet I don’t think two lonelier people exist on the show. When they meet in the middle, just for this moment, it melts my heart.

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