Treats!

I worked my ass off this summer to try and stabilize the cash flow situation and earn enough to finally get a new computer and a treat or two. Now that some of the checks have started rolling in, I’m discovering just how much stress I let myself feel when I was slightly less dirt poor. A little cushioning can go a long way, it seems.

And I’ve also been having fun playing with the first of the new treats — my swank new digital camera. I’m still getting to know the camera and what it can do, but in the meantime click them thumbnail thingies to peek at some samples:

 

Me on the CouchMe on the CouchMe on the Couch
Me on the Couch
Holly in Motion
Jason and His Jaw
Joe and Jason
Mike in Motion
Mike from Above

 

Meat Market

Forget all that queer counter-culture posturing you keep encountering on the Internet. Every gay blog I’ve looked at today has confessed to watching The Sexiest Bachelor in America last night, just like I did. We’re all ashamed. We were all horrified (if that eerie picture on Fox’s page for the show isn’t ominous, I don’t know what is). But we all made sure we didn’t have to pee during the swimsuit competition. (Which was lame, by the way. You know guys, there’s a reason the rest of the world makes fun of Americans for swaddling themselves with so much fabric on the beach. We look silly in all that fabric. And not as sexy as people are obviously hoping for.)

Despite the trashiness of this particular televised meat market — and for once it’s good to see men being the meat and not the shoppers, I might add — leave it to American televison to make sure that the winner was the most wholesome of all when it came right down to it. As if the only way to excuse such a tawdry (yet fun, in its way) celebration of beefcake was to show that in the end, it’s just good manners that matter the most.

But maybe that’s being a little too cynical of me. After all, this was on Fox, a fine, upstanding network if there ever was one. I’m not crazy about the lucky Mr. Virginia, but I was surpised and pleased that the judges (by coercion or actual fairness) would grant the prize to a guy who was all hairy and beefy, but not cut like a gym rat, the way the other guys were. Watch the swimsuit competition: he’s puffing up his chest so much to hold in his gut that he might pop a lung. Good for him, even if he was the blandest of them all.