Gay Bloggies

Speaking of guilty pleasures, I think one of mine is booting someone off after each Challenge!! I was just joking. It's actually very difficult and if it's up to me, I'd like for everyone to stay! Let's get down to the tally!

Here are the bloggers who got the lowest votes for the last challenge, in no particular order:

Chris, About a Boy and His Briefs
Richard, Proceed at Your Own Risk
Scott Anthony, Scott Anthony

The blogger with the lowest votes, and thus eliminated from the competition is: Scott Anthony. It came as a surprise cos Scott wasn't even in the bottom three for the past tallies! In fact he was quite high up there for the first two rounds. Chris and Richard have both been in the bottom three for 2 Challenges in a row, but they've escaped the boot so far. We're also seeing some big changes in the top spots based on the numbers so anything can happen. So, remember to vote for your favourite blogger to keep them in the race.

Scott, we're sad to see you go. Thanks for your active participation. We'll see you and your lil hot butt around the block!

Guilty pleasures - here's a challenge to divulge everything and anything you're just a wee bit embarrassed by yet indulge in anyways! We invite the ten of you to 'fess up and tell us about those things you hate to love but just can't help yourself.

First and foremost, I'm always just a little self-conscious when I write these entries. "Tell us about a secret you've never told on your blog! Tell us about your most guilty pleasure!" Between the eye candy and the porn stars and the erotica writers I kinda feel like the awkward math tutor that was invited to the sexy slumber party because our moms knew each other, but no matter. (It's also one of the reasons I'm kinda shocked that Pierre Fitch, the porn star was the first one eliminated. He might have lost, he think about it - he just wrote on his personal blog about how he went to McDonalds and watched Saw 4 at the theaters and his post got 49 COMMENTS. Forty-nine comments about eating at McDonalds. He might be the first one eliminated, but seriously, he wins.)

Anyway, I digress - most guilty pleasure. [sigh] Alright, fine. Extreme Makeover: Home Edition. (If you're unaware of the premise of the show: a bus full of designers finds a family that is down on their luck, they re-do their house, said family crawls into a fetal position and sobs for the remaining of the episode due to overwhelming happiness. Lather, rinse, repeat.) Here's why:

• First off, episodes of Extreme Makeover: Home Edition (hereby called EM:HE for short) are usually shown on weekend nights. This is when your self-esteem is already completely trashed because instead of having that fabulous gay social life you see on gay.com banner ads, you're at home feeling sorry for yourself and watching television. And that show you're watching, of course, is EM:HE.
• Ty Pennington is a fucking crackhead. Yes, because I'm gay I HAVE see him on Trading Spaces, thank you very much - but where he was once the beefcake comic relief, he's now been relegated to an incoherant man running around with a megaphone, screaming and fake-crying over some eight year old kid with leprosy and three fingers. if I were one of those volunteer crew members, I would steal a nail he was hammering and drive it into an eye socket rather than deal with his "wacky antics."
• It's an unspoken rule that every family that EM:HE helps must be a child ages four to thirteen, presumably for one reason only: so some god-awful designer can make a tacky theme room in the new house. They interview the kid, where they kid says something off-hand like, "yeah, I'm struggling with school, but science is alright. I don't mind it that much." But then someone from the EM:HE will take the idea, run it to the ground and build a fucking LABORATORY in their bedroom, where there are beakers full of dry ice and they remodel their bed into a life-sized petri dish. "Little Jimmy loves science; we'll think he'll cherish this room for years to come." Do they not think these kids will ever go through puberty?
• Here's the most important part - you would think that by making fun of said children and families and host I would be completely apathetic to the shows plight, right? Wrong. Every two-hour special episode has me an emotional basketcase, because if I see grateful people cry, I start tearing up. What, a family full of quadraplegics had a house that was lost to Hurricane Katrina? God bless you, ABC Network, for building that house full of ramps. A single Marine veteran father with five kids, all blind due to complications from diabetes? And the EM:HE crew built a fully tactile house so the kids would know what room they were in AND a "support the troops" flower garden? Pass the fucking kleenex, that's what the human spirit is all about. You start openly sobbing along with the families, getting caught up in their causes and EM:HE's over the top solutions, but by the time you think to yourself, "oh my god, that house is STUPID," the show has been over for three hours and you feel ashamed.

And there you go, my guilty pleasure. (Don't get me started with Amy Grant's Three Wishes. That's my second favoritest show ever.)

My guilty pleasures have varied considerably over the years. My earliest memory of a guilty pleasure would be Twinkies dunked in Yoo-hoo. As my tastes and needs and desires have evolved--or devolved--guilty pleasures have included watch and fountain pen collecting, hideously over-priced bed linens, nude bathing in the Caribbean, Chinatown Dim Sum until my tummy explodes, Mojitos and Keith Copley, the most beautiful and sexually attractive idiot I've ever known.

My guilty pleasure du jour (or should I say au jus?) is photographing shirtless (and sometimes naked) men in public places throughout Manhattan. It's a complex pleasure that demands commitment, guts, seduction, subversion, research, deception and will power.

And it's not just a guilty pleasure (even though my penis would tell you so), it's been an intellectual, emotional and artistic adventure.

I've been exploring the synthesis of two of my most persistent obsessions: Manhattan and beautiful men. Initially, I was partly motivated by comments on my photography questioning the absence of people, As a result of that, I started to pursue people, studying men on the streets of Manhattan.

After a while, I then found myself wondering about their bodies. Imagine that. So I started to politely suggest to acquaintances, friends and even random strangers that they should consider supporting my artistic endeavors. I pointed out that I'm very old and could be dead within days so now was not the time to say no. Now they line up to strip on the streets.

Truth be told, I rarely enjoy nude male photography, it leaves me cold. Too obvious. On the other hand, the naked city in all of its hardness, rigid angles and cubist statements is to my eye powerfully masculine and quite arousing. So I wondered if I could use my camera to create some kind of visual and emotional communication between the stone, steel and glass architecture, textures and colors of my adored metropolis and the architecture, textures and colors of beautiful men.

I'm not sure I've succeeded quite yet, but I do feel I am on the right path. And I must confess--not surprisingly--the exploration has been great fun.

Perhaps the strangest part of this experience has been that the sexual and visual pleasure that I've been experiencing during this process of exploration has been unique and extraordinarily intense in ways I had not imagined. Furthermore, the experience has given rise to intense personal feelings that I've not experienced during the actual act of sex. Partly this is because--with one exception--I have not indulged in sex with my models despite the fact that one of the criteria I've used to select my models has been powerful sexual attraction. Limiting myself to the visual experience has opened the door on new sensations and a much more powerful visual experience than I've ever had before.

Have I discovered my inner voyeur? Perhaps, but it is something much more. The combined beauty of the male form and texture and elements of the city has taken me to a very new place emotionally, sexually and aesthetically.

I suppose I've come a long way from Twinkies and Yoo-hoo--or maybe not.

I don't believe in 'guilty pleasures'. I really don't. I'm a generous person by nature so I always share to people whenever I have something good. Why keep little delightful things to yourself? Pleasures and indulgences are something to be proud of and we shouldn't be ashamed, or feel guilty, of anything that truly makes us feel good.

It's like meeting people (in real life) who read my blog. It's not unusual for folk to say things like "OMG BRYANBOY, you're my guilty pleasure!"

I say what, what? In da butt. What, what? Wanna do it in the butt? Let's party.

Guilty pleasure? Bitch please. What you're trying to say is that you like to read my blog but you don't want anyone to know about it?

Of course I'm not gonna tell that to their face because I'm nice and I want to go to heaven when I die.

You see, I'm all for shameless self-promotion and I rely on others to spread my gospel so hearing people say I'm their "guilty pleasure" is a small blow to my huge ego. I mean, it's flattering and all (and I'm truly thankful they read my site) but hella I want people to share me to their friends. I don't want them to keep me to themselves! I want people to forward my site, my silly pictures and my online antics to their co-workers, schoolmates and family. I want them to say things to random strangers about me. Why? It's all part of my master plan of world domination. I suffer from a severe, really really really severe case of ADD and I get depressed whenever I don't hear/read/see anything that's being said about me.

I'm sure you got the jist of what I'm trying to say so let's leave it at that.

What are MY "guilty pleasures"?

There's way too many to list in this blog entry so I'll share some of my favourite (and lesser-known) ones. I'm honestly the most shameless son of a bitch on the face of the planet, at least to my knowledge, so most of my readers already know a few things, thanks to my loud mouth, but hey, there is always someone out there who doesn't know any better... or anything... so here goes.

Bryanboy's Guilty Pleasures
(in no particular order)

1. Heterosexual Creampie Porn
The word "creampie" says it all. While geriatric women get off with jack rabbit vibrators and Mills & Boon romance novels, I for one love to indulge with creampies. I've been hooked on this shit for years. Google is your best friend if you don't know what creampie means... please be 18+ and older before you start clicking some links and whatever you do, be sure to avoid the word "housewife" otherwise you're in for a shock. Nothing beats watching a hole get pumped with hot, thick, creamy white population paste. The more, the merrier! As I've mentioned in one of my previous entries, my favourite movie is "65 Guy Creampie" starring Ariana Jollee. That whore is the luckiest cunt EVAR and I would totally watch her film over and over and over and over and over and over if I had all the time in the world. Watching chicks get creampied is so much better than watching a hairy-arsed fag do it. I mean seriously... aren't you (just a wee bit) curious what it's like to let 65 Eastern European bloc peasants use your hole as a cum dump? I am! Think of the mixed-raced babies aka Chanel of babies!

You can laugh all you want but hey, I love this sort of crap. Our tastes change over time. I'm sorry but watching 2 guys fucking before shooting cum on their face/mouth is soo dull I would probably get more excitement watching Planet Unicorn. I'm someone who spent his childhood years printing stories from Nifty.org during the glorious days of 28.8k US Robotics modems and hiding them underneath the matress. If you've been on the internet THAT long, I'm sure y'all started at Nifty. Can I see a show of hands? One? Two? Does Tommyhawk and Kevinmjo ring a bell? Ten sets of hands?

2. Mincing
Mincing, to me, is an art form. Every young queen over the age of 13 should master the art of mincing. A lot of flamers these days are soo misguided they think all it takes is a broken wrist, a crop top and some glitter before they hit the streets but no, it takes wayyy more than that. In this day and age of Fashion TV (FTV), video iPods, YouTube and downloadable fashion shows from the runways of New York, Milan and Paris, it's totally inexcusable for someone to just walk the streets unprepared. I for one like to download music they use on the runways, watch some of my favourite catwalkers (Natasha Poly, Mariacarla Boscono, Tanya Dziahileva) and try to incorporate their fierceness in my life.

The next time you walk the roads, bring your ipod with you and play some high energy music. Keep your back (and your face) straight, your hip bones jutting out and walk like a bullet train (think New Yorker speed; walk, not run) ... one foot in front of the other. And please... for the life of god, keep your arms and wrists in place. One trick is to put one hand in your pocket and use the other arm to guide you. Do not, under any circumstances stop... or care... about your surroundings (except for moving vehicles, duh). Just go from point A to point B with one heck of a fierce walk. Need an example? See for yourself. Look at the first girl who goes on the runway on this vid (Tanya) and you'll know what I mean.

Just remember: whatever you do, life is a runway. Every day is a fashion show and the street is your catwalk.

3. Internet Trolling
Everyone loves a good ol' internet troll. EVERYONE! Trust me on this. Whenever I'm bored out of my skull or whenever I have the spare time, I troll away at my favourite discussion forums. I'm not your typical troll though. I like to go to online forums where the audience is 100% opposite of me -- think heterosexual fat hairy losers in their 20s into cars, beer, Megan Fox, tits etc. In fact, I love those car forums. I really do. I like to create threads where I post some of my provoking gay-ass totally flaming, totally trantastic pictures and ask silly questions like, "WOULD YOU HIT IT" or "OMG I GOT HIT BY A TRUCK AND NOW I'M IN A WHEELCHAIR" or "HAY GUYS HOW DO I LOSE 10 POUNDS I'M OBESE". Sure they will hurl all the "faggot" insults at you but hey, these straight guys are a great tool for viral marketing -- they are WORSE than women when it comes to forwarding shit and y'all know I love it when people spread shit about me. The next time you corrupt a fat geek from the Midwest US of A who, think how many times he'll post your picture on various other online forums with your link on it with the caption "OMG LOOK AT THIS FAG".

I don't do this as much as I used to because once you get people hooked on you, they'll check your site as often as possible to see what you're up to and spread your gospel to the rest of the world. Remember what I said on how every move I make is calculated with extreme precision? Well, there you have it. Hah! I can't believe I'm revealing secrets. Oi Vey! God damn a Public Relations firm should just hire my fat ass stat!

4. Craigslist Bareback, Raw and Skiing
Craigslist used to be fun until my IP address got banned. I think they caught me on my amateur antics after I wrote about them on my blog. Now I can't even go there and to think, the NYC and SFO forums are AMAZING! Shame on me. Because I'm the most insecure bastard in the world, I like to post ads there with my pictures to see what kind of guys I attract. You know, for curiosity's sake. Sometimes I would post an ad saying "18 year slim guy needs dominant top under 35" using my "straight acting" pictures (we all know I fail in straight acting... and I fail in life) and sometimes I would post ads saying "SPERMINATE ME!!!! Let's make babies!" under T4M using pictures of me wearing a blond wig during an old Halloween party. There's this time when I got like 481 responses in a span of 3 hours. Can you believe it? Either I'm one hot bitch or everyone is just gagging for some anal action.

I don't know what it is but it's soo hilarious (and hot) looking at pictures of all these guys telling me what they want to do to me and talking dirty to me.

5. Damn Gaysians Hungry For White Cock
In the third world, being white is so prized everyone will do anything just to get themselves pumped by caucasian DNA. It really opens doors. A lot of doors. I get dozens upon dozens of emails from third world people asking for email addresses and contact information of people who appear on my site. It's crazy! Like I'm gonna give it to them. Here's another one: I once read this blog of a gay European journalist who visited Manila and when he went to this gay place, he got mobbed by like dozens of guys throughout the night asking how he is or whether he wants a drink or not -- people who don't know him. Stories like this are far too common. No wonder old caucasian pensioners go here as soon as they get their first retirement check. Anyway. About a year ago, a British friend and I did a little social experiment on a popular gay personals site in the flips to test it out. We made a profile using his photos (we said he's 6'2 but in reality he's 5'4 LOL) and within hours, our mailbox got so full with messages from all these brown fuckers. The responses range from the banal to the outrageous. On our second experiment, we made another profile with photos of a more, errr, mature man. Same thing. I was going to write an entry on my blog with responses and the pictures of the people who replied and then I felt guilty because some of these folk probably read my website. The desperation is hilarious... and entertaining... and sad, all at the same time. Some were clearly money boys. They're young and not bad at all and whenever we ask silly questions like "have you ever tried fisting? I'd love to fist you... how much would it cost" followed by pictures of fist fucking and then get answers like P1,500 (US$30) for the entire night and willing to do "everything", man, I don't know whether to cry or laugh. Oh who are we kidding, we're mean gurls so we laughed. Hah! I know, I know, we should be ashamed of ourselves but hell, we're all going to hell anyway so why not have fun in this lifetime?

It's sad though. It also didn't help the fact that most of the guys on that site are major fugs. Why don't you go online and look up Filipino gays (in the Flips) and most of them are fugly. FUGS! There are cute ones alright but they've got issues: either they're not out of the closet, they're taken, they're in showbiz, they're gay for pay or worse, they're in showbiz AND they're gay for pay. LOLers. I'm not hating. I know we're all beautiful in our own little ways but we only say that in order to look nice to people. Just kidding. You know, every time people from other countries see what gays in my country look like they always tell me I'm the hottest brown whore they've seen! For real. I swear to god. I can't even count the number of times I've had friends come over the years and naturally, they want to pull someone but they end up disappointed and who gets to suck cock? I do, which is sad. Hahaha. Just kidding. Yes I'm full of myself and being pretty has a price. A lot of my gay compatriots think I'm fugly but you know what, when the rest of the world loves you, who cares? There's only one thing to say to sum it up: BIG FISH, SMALL POND. I, on the other hand, well... fuck them damn fish... I'm MS Freedom of the Seas, the world's largest passenger vessel! Bring me the head of a third world gay guy who thinks I'm sexy and I'll pay you a pretty penny! I'M UNDERGOING A SEVERE CASE OF DROUGHT AND SOMEONE HAS TO PUT A STOP ON THE DRY SPELL! Hahaha!

Look at them gaysians and how they're all happy and then look at me how I'm a miserable queen! LOL

I know I'm gonna get hated by them exotic jungle birds but I still love them no matter what they look like (in fact, I love anyone regardless of what they look like; black, brown, periwinkle or chartreuse, I'm an equal opportunity lover!) because ultimately, I'm still one of them natives. My dad have always taught me to love my own. Except I'm queen of the fuglies! I need their -- YOUR -- damn votes assholes! LOL.

Email me and tell me you love me! My email address is bryanboy@gmail.com.

I love you all, as always.

Okay! So... I suppose I live what some might call a rather spoiled life, but it wasn't always that way. I work very, very hard for everything I have, and I definitely believe in rewarding myself with nice things and special experiences. I have SO MANY guilty pleasures. (Catholic upbringing dictates that any pleasures I have should be guilty... I KNOW guilt) I guess the easiest thing to do is to pound out one of my famous CDX lists...

A look into my most decadent, self-satisfying and/or secret splurges...

1. Banya 5 Salt Scrub
Located in downtown Seattle, Banya 5 bills itself as an urban spa. Many of the elements at Banya 5 are based on a traditional Russian bath, however the salt scrub is VERY norCal-spa inspired. The attendant starts by giving a full-body massage (not THAT kind of full-body massage) using locally-sourced honey. A quick rinse with tepid saltwater and then a scrubdown using deep-sea salts. A moisturizing conditioning seal and a hair shampoo/conditioning treatment using organic handmade products finishes the treatment off. The price for this afternoon of relaxation and dermatological refinishing: $100 with tip.

2. Dinner at Jak's Grill
Jak's Grill is a West Seattle landmark, as famous for its well-aged Nebraska Beef as it is for its decidedly un-steakhouse-like prices. While the joint certainly isn't cheap, it is nowhere near as pricey as some of the more stuffy steakhouses. Add-in a simple, unpretentious, casual atmosphere and it easily rates as one of the top restaurants I have ever eaten in. My current favorite is the ribeye, 18oz of corn-fed, dry-aged beef. Served charred-rare with fresh horseradish and a Jak's U.F.O. (basically a potato pancake with a scoop of mashed potato on top.) Add a Tanqueray & tonic (or 2) and my meal is complete. Cost for this manly feast: $70 with tip.

3. DList.com
Not every guilty pleasure costs money... some just suck a whole lot of time away! I LOVE DList. There aren't as many bells and whistles as MySpace, which is totally fine by me. I love cruising through the profiles, looking at guys' photos and searching through the cities I travel to. I can seriously find HOURS evaporating as I get lost in an endless loop of little hotties competing for attention (watch out when they start unlocking their "private photos" ZOMG!) There are an awful lot of fake profiles, but I guess that goes with the territory. I am finally starting to see some representation of the hairier, beefier and/or slightly older gays on there, which is good. You can find my profile at dlist.com/cdx

4. LOL Cats
I know! So wrong! Whether it is running across a "Caturday" thread on fark.com or purposefully going to a site like icanhascheezburger.com I just cannot get enough of the LOL Cat meme. There is a whole entry on wikipedia that can explain it to you if you need that. For me, I just need read them and LOL. I don't even like cats.

5. Brothers and Sisters
This is as close to a soap opera as I can bear. Something about the Walker family on Brothers and Sisters just draws me in! Maybe I am just projecting, as it is something close to the family life I always wanted: Southern California, wealthy, Sally Field as my mom. Instead my real family had all of the drama, none of the wealth. And my mother is no Sally Field. I rented the Season 1 DVDs from Blockbuster and watched them all in 2 days. I never even got out of my sweatpants. Totally. Guilty. Pleasure. It doesn't hurt that Balthazar Getty is a fucking hottie, either. Actually all of the brothers are hot. Except the "gay" one, Kevin. Why is he such a fug? Now, Kevin's new boyfriend (the minister, who is the brother of the Senator, who is engaged to Kitty Walker, who is Kevin's sister)? SO HOT! But THAT is another blog.

6. Leslie Hall
This girl-rapper from Iowa is the shit! You may know her as Sweater Girl or Keeper of the Gems, but to pin her to that would be overlooking her most recent metamorphosis as a rather good purveyor of beats that make you want to bust a move. Her latest song/video is called How We Go Out, and it is fucking rad-iculous. Sure, she is a big gal, and her mom makes all of her costumes, but that is part of the charm. I dare you to not love Leslie Hall.

And there you have it. A half-dozen of my most guilty pleasures. Some other top contenders... sipping Veuve Clicquot (who am I kidding? I LOVE the Veuve. Shit gets me drunker than Dan Renzi in a blog-writing contest.... wait, what? YOU KNOW), reading James Patterson novels, finding as many remixes of Khia's My Neck, My Back as possible, watching StrongBad check his e.mails at homestarrunner.com and of course... chowing down on the McRib (MmmmmmmmcRib). Sure, my guilty pleasures run the gamut from high-brow to low-class, but they make me happy. And that is the important part ... the pleasure.

On a side note... I do like to help ease some of my "guilt" by spreading the wealth. Life can't all be champagne and gold spandex, right? So here's the deal... if I win the 1st or 2nd prize, I will be donating 50% of the post-tax cash prize amount to charity. (25% to the American Lung Association, 25% to AMFAR, The Foundation for AIDS Research.) If I win any other cash prize I will be donating the full amount to the American Lung Association.

So there you have it. You can feel good voting for me - even if you hate my blog! In fact, not voting for me is like giving a thumbs-up to cancer and AIDS. You aren't THAT evil... are you?

Of course not.

Start clicking, dear.

The challenge was to discuss your most guilty pleasure, but naming just one was too difficult. So I'm listing various pleasures and we'll put each of them on trial to determine whether they should be classified as Guilty or Not Guilty.

Defendant #1. Showgirls - Not the regular version. It has to be the VH1 version with the cartoon bras and panties painted (badly) on all the strippers. It's also better with large portions of the movie cut out so it makes even less sense.
Prosecution: What? Was Tiffani Amber Thiessen busy? (She'll always have the "Amber" in my heart.)
Defense: Who could anyone pass up Jessie Spano as a stripper? A stripper who licks stripper poles. A stripper who licks stripper poles and dreams of being a true Vegas showgirl.
Verdict: Not Guilty - At least I only catch it when it's on TV and don't own the DVD.

Defendant #2. Catwoman - Her outfit is S&M-riffic!
Prosecution: Halle Berry is no Michelle Pfeiffer. Michelle Pfeiffer was the kick-assingest Catwoman of all time.
Defense: In the movie, Catwoman goes to a bar and orders a "white russian, hold the vodka, hold the kahlua." Get it?! GET IT?! She just ordered a glass of cream! It's genius!
Verdict: Not Guilty - It's so bad it's good.

Defendant #3. Manhunt.net - I love personal ads. It's like people watching without having to leave the house! And Manhunt is personal ads with slutty pictures! What's not to love?
Prosecution: Your pubes get itchy just looking at some of those profiles.
Defense: It's not like I'm meeting anyone from it! I just like it for the people watching aspect! (And the slutty pictures.)
Verdict: Guilty - Browsing at home is one thing. Browsing on the train is another. Get a more exciting life.

Defendant #4. Your mom jokes that make no sense - "Hey, do you know where Joe is?" "I think he's at the dining hall." "I'd like to dine in your mom's halls." "Dude you suck."
Prosecution: Your mom jokes are old and unoriginal.
Defense: Your mom's old and unoriginal.
Verdict: Not Guilty - Nothing beats a perfectly timed your mom joke.

Defendant #5. Sci-Fi Original Movies - Including Pterodactyl
Prosecution: In Pteodactyl, Coolio is a marine who fights a swarm of reanimated pterodactyls.
Defense: What about Coolio fighting pterodactyls did you not understand?
Verdict: Guilty - L.L. Cool J fighting genetically altered super sharks is one thing. Coolio fighting pterodactyls is another.

Defendant #6. The Look Who's Talking Movies - Yes, all three of them! Yes, even the one where the dogs are talking!
Prosecution: Babies and dogs talking. Enough said.
Defense: John Travolta used to be quite charming! Kirstie Alley chugs a whole bottle of apple juice!
Verdict: Not Guilty - Two words: Talking. Sperm.

I'm going to take this opportunity to give you all a rare glimpse into my most intimate evening rituals. You might call them guilty pleasures if I had any remorse whatsoever. But let's just say they're things that might make other people feel embarrassment on my behalf.

First, a little Pizza Hut to start the evening, because after a hard day of blogging, the only thing that can satisfy my hunger is a thick pie of processed white flour and factory cheese drenched in margarine and hydrogenated soybean oil. But I feel no guilt. If it's good enough for Gorbachev, it's good enough for me:

Once the pizza arrives, I settle down for a relaxing viewing of my Showgirls VIP Edition DVD (a gift from !! omg blog !! super-reader Josh Y.), which only gets better every time I watch.

Then it's time to hit "da club"! I only go dancing in curvy, older woman drag, because in the immortal words of Nomi Malone, "I like having nice tits." This is a photo of me dressed as Karen (one of the Bowling Moms from Amazing Race Season 5), dancing it up vigorously (notice the sweat stains).

All that dancing might wipe me out, but before I go to bed, it's not a complete day in my life without a delicious can of Pillsbury Cinnamon Buns (not Grands, the regular sized ones), which I will enjoy in its entirety. Yes, that's eight cinnamon buns. If that doesn't make you want to give me the thumbs up, then you are a cruel person.

Yum yum yum... Vote for me!! xoxo F

my guiltiest pleasure?

OPRAH, OPRAH, OPRAH!

i debated over this, really. i mean, oprah's not a guity pleasure...is she?

IS SHE?!

oprah, goddess of the earth. big, black, beautiful woman. she's amazing, incredible, powerful.

somehow, though, there is a definite desperate housewife connotation to oprah fandom. you just see marge in her living room, using her ab roller, watching nate berkus re-do someone's apartment.

I REJECT THIS!

winter makes me cold, lonely, depressed. i bought oprah's 20th anniversary dvd set last year, and i'm still pulling it out to cheer me up. i love little mini-marathons chock-full of toni morrison and mothers of murdered children.

i'm not kidding. if you have netflix, give the set a rent. you'll get the radio flyer full of lard, and african kids getting new sneakers, and tears GALORE. i cry a lot. almost as much as when i watch extreme makeover: home edition.

i was asked to tell you about my most guilty pleasure. i dont think of myself as indulgent. so it was something i had to think. what the fuck is my most guilty pleasure.

baths. i think. would have to be my choice. even more so than dark chocolate. or sugar. period. masturbating. waching janice dickenson modeling agency. or playing god of war 2 while having my ass eaten. not even the sweet smoke of mary jane. gives me as much pleasure as soaking in a big tub full of hot. steamy. water. besides i don’t feel guilty when i do any of that. but baths. i don’t know why.

sigh.

and its a ritual. over the many years of bathing. ive discovered a recipe for a good bath. and while each time its ‘made’ i might add something new. or take something away. the end result tends to be the same. and the motions as well.

the tub is cleaned. an ice cube is placed on the thermostat to insure enough hot water. and a warm bathroom. and the bathtub is filled. with ardent. almost lustful waters. that beckon wantonly. i feel seduced at times.

a hot cup of green tea. black. occasionally its both. and sometimes i bring an amstel light. or 2. or some previously mentioned ganga.

and music. something to drown out the rest of the house. so i don’t hear my roommates coming home. their booted feet treading heavily on the stairs. with every step. guilt lashes me. but it fades into the warmth of the water.

a candle. or two. and some sea salt. or usually batherapy. a concoction of queen helene. to the waters. i dont like bubbles. they annoy me.

and dont forget the pumice stone. maybe that is the hidden guilty pleasure. punishing. i mean pumicing my feet at the end of the bath. feeling the scrap of the stone against my feet. and the finished product. soft. supple. size 13 feet.

and when i slip into the water. that first step. always a burn as the hot. sometimes searing. water hits my tender. unpictured. flesh. my body adjusts. or i adjust the water. and then im in. under it. covered in it. luxuriating in it. i feel like a calgon commercial but i hate that crap. becoming 1 with it. i lay in the water. reading. soaking. drinking. slipping. thinking. further. into. under. and further. away from reality. worries are washed a way with all my woes. and for 30 minutes. 45 maybe. im blessed if i get an hour. i have left reality as far behind as i can in this city. besides doing something illegal.

and why is it a guilty pleasure.

im quaker catholic. ive been guilty since i was born. guilt is what made me turn myself in. that which started my path down incarceration lane. and its guilty i feel when i take baths. guilty about using water. and taking up valuable bathroom time. is that crazy. or what. and while the guilt may build before hand.

it vanishes instantly. like an advocado bath ball from lush. as soon as i slip into those sultry. and steamy depths.

its bath of hail marys. and pass me the loofa.

It's 2 AM on Monday, slash that--TUESDAY--and I may or may not have been out drinking. I can neither confirm nor deny this allegation. Thank GOD for Spellcheck or this post would be a hot mess.

Maybe it will be anyway.

The topic for today is "guilty pleasures." So I'm going to take this moment to discuss...

America's Next Top Model.

I want to be Ebony. I want to have hair extensions that make me look like I am dressing up as Cher every day. I want to be confused as to why people think I am mean, since I can't help the fact that I am superior. I want to hide my insecurity about my teeth by saying my look is just my model-pout.

I want to be Victoria. I want to view every evaluation as an attack, and respond by personally insulting the judges. I want to constantly inform everyone I am far too smart to be a model. I want my final round in the competition to come to a glorious end because I cannot, during my final photo shoot, properly emulate the spirit of a cactus.

I want to be Bianca. I want get a bright red $19 weave, then enter a televised modeling competition, and have the nerve to look into the TV cameras and say "Don't let the red hair fool ya. I can do couture."

I want to be Heather. I want to scream at my roommates when they are in the shower, because I "called dibs" on it and that gives me the right to always, always go first. I want my fury to temporarily make me find my inner lesbian, and climb in the shower with them. And generally speaking, I want to make a habit of losing my mind while everyone in the room, including myself, is totally nude.

I want to be Sarah. I want to pull paper out of my nose and think it's cute. I want to be encouraged to be as fat as possible, even while I am forced to pose for modeling sessions while wearing body suits made entirely of fishnet. I want to be cut from the competition mainly because I am the only normal one in the cast and of course that's no good for the show.

I want to be Ambreal. I want to give names to all my different types of "signature walks." I want to cry every time I see a camera near me, as I know that will get me edited into the show. I want to insist, whenever I make it to another round in the competition, that it is not because the producers want to create drama--it is the work of Jesus. Because yes, Top Model is that important.

Why does pleasure have to be seen as guilty? My friend Annie Sprinkle is always always talking about in her sexy performances that Americans are way too hung up on thinking of pleasure as something to be guilty about. Maybe it's those crazy pilgrims who came over on the Mayflower exerting their influence on us almost 400 years later. Just because they were prudes about sex and pleasure why do they still have to ruin the fun for the rest of us? Why can't we just revel in being joyful, stimulated or excited? Well, it's because sometimes we feel kind of dorky and fear we'll be mocked!

I don't care. I'm ready to come out of the closet, the Star Trek closet that is! My guilty pleasure is watching the television series developed by Gene Rodenberry that began in the 1960s. Star Trek shows remain a remarkable depiction of a promising future where humans and people not quite like us worked together, learned from each other and explored the universe for self-growth. They did it for the sheer fascination of it. All the plots of the shows are allegories to modern day woes like racism, homophobia, multiculturalism and the role of technology in our lives.

After a particularly stressful day, nothing soothes me like a good episode of Star Trek: Voyager. It's not just the story line or the characters that I enjoy, it's also the techy sounds, beeps and background noise they add to the shows. It's hypnotic.

One of the episodes that really strikes a chord with me is when the half-klingon, half-human B'Elanna Torres gets caught by aliens who separate her into two people, one Klingon and one human. The episode focuses mostly on the human B'Elanna's struggle to embrace her wilder untamed Klingon self, until she finally realizes that she needs both of her selves to survive.

It was difficult for me being of mixed cultures growing up in Puerto Rico. Not just being gay, but being a blue eyed white kid in a predominantly brown skinned culture wasn't always easy. I've always felt like and outsider in my own country, as well as anywhere else I live. Like B'Elana, I've fought with my Puerto Rican side and my American side. Someday I'll reconcile them.

So there you have it, my guilty pleasure. I also like making slash collages of one of the greatest gay couples of all time Kirk and Spock. I hope you enjoy the campy fun and please don't give any tribbles to Richard Gere- they never the same again.

Just for fun, here is a sexy gay photo montage of one of the greatest gay couples in science fiction, Captain Kirk (William Shatner) and First Science Officer Spock (Leonard Nemoy):