MY NEW IMAGINARY BOYFRIEND...

...is named Buster Posey. He's the current catcher for the San Francisco Giants. And he's all kinds of not only awesome, but also hotness. Move over Grady Sizemore, you just got dumped out from my sexual fantasy universe.

Um, I mean, that is some quality, grade AAA+ ass. I'm pulling for the Giants this post season. Not only because of my pretend BF, but I think they have a legitimate chance. Oh, and Tim Lincecum is my favorite pitcher. The "Freak" is so fun to watch! GO GIANTS!

BOOM CHICKA FUCKIN' BOOM

Sometimes I amaze myself. After an initial attempt to pick up some guy at a bar last night (that did not work out well at all) I returned home, and through the power of the interwebs, I found a hot, tall and super masculine guy not only in my neighborhood, but also one who had a big ol' bag of herb who wanted to smoke and make out.

P-E-R-F-E-C-T! X 10!

Oh man, shit was hot. At first we were just hanging out and watching "A Guide To Recognizing My Your Saints", but soon after we both agreed that Channing Tatum, while insanely hot, cannot act his way out of a paper bag.

So I did the only thing I could think of, which was to say to Paul (the guy that came over): "hey, why don't you sit next to me on the couch". Boom. Done son! It took about 10 minutes of sloppy hot making out before we both whipped our pants off and adjourned to my bedroom. We didn't fuck (I'm not THAT much of a slut) but we certainly enjoyed each other for about an hour.

I'm back in business, and business is good.

SEX AND THE OLYMPIC CITY

I'm not really into the Olympics, and therefore don't watch them. But still, it's obviously impossible to avoid them, and in the case of the swimmers (like everyone else) I'm glad I don't (goddamn, why didn't I join the swim team in high school? Oh right, I hate swimming).

Anyways, I don't know when I thought about this...but I was thinking about all the hot studs, all living in close proximity together. And I concluded that towards the end of the Olympics, when the competitions are over, that Olympic Village has got to be the hottest, sexiest place on Planet Earth.

Now, I usually only read the Times for Jeremy Clarkson's columns, but this headline caught my eye today, "Sex and the Olympic City", which basically confirms my suspicions, that towards the end of the games, the Village, is indeed, a total Fuck Fest. Here's a few choice quotes:

"There is a famous story from Seoul in 1988 that there were so many used condoms on the roof terrace of the British team's residential block the night after the swimming concluded that the British Olympic Association sent out an edict banning outdoor sex."

"It is a common sight to see recently knocked-out athletes gorging on Magnums and McDonald's, swilling alcohol and, of course, shagging like crazy. Sometimes all three at the same time."

“It is unbelievable in there; everyone is totally crazy once they are out of their competitions. God knows what it is going to be like this weekend. It is like a world within a world.”

Read all the hot, sordid details here: Sex and the Olympic City. Can we got NBC to cover some of this action?

TRENT REZNOR CAN DO WHATEVER HE WANTS TO DO WITH ME

I must have missed a fucking memo or something. Though I'm not the biggest NIN fan, I've always liked their shit, but apparently I haven't seen a picture of Trent Reznor in sometime. I still thought of him when he looked like this:

Totally hot, but I was unaware of his physical transformation over the last few years after he got sober. All I can say is....DAYUMN! Like Robert Downey Jr., he traded the needle for a personal trainer. The results are evident:

He's positively Measty. If you consider the way he lived most of his adult life, and keep in mind that he's now 43 years old (young), he looks amazingly good. Bottom line...I would let him fuck me like an animal. From the inside out. Like NOW.

The following video makes me regret not going to see NIN at Lollapalooza, "The Big Come Down" off of the record "The Fragile", performed somewhere in Europe last year. Maybe if Neil is feeling generous he'll burn me a copy.

HOTTIES OUTSIDE MY WINDOW

All this week I've not had to use my alarm clock, thanks to the trio of fucking jackhammers outside my bedroom window. For some reason the city has decided to rip up the curbs in front of my building (even they just did this 2 years ago). Needless to say, it's been annoying, although helpful at getting up and out of bed and onto to work on-time.

Since I had today off I was looking forward to sleeping in, and since they finished with the demolition yesterday, I felt confident that the sound of jackhammers would not awake me once again. While that proved to be the case, the concrete dudes rolled in with a cement truck, again at 7:15AM - right below my window. Argh!

When I looked out the window, my annoyance quickly faded once my eyes fell upon 2 smokin' hot construction workers. Gawd...these boys are sexy! Both are tan, built like shit brick houses and covered in tattoos. Things got more interesting when the slightly shorter one peeled off his shirt. There really is a God!

Since they woke me up on my day off, I thought it only fair that I take some pictures and share them with you...

Hmmmmm, I wonder if they want some lemonade, or better yet, maybe a nice cold beer.

FINALLY...GRADY RETURNS THE LOVE!

Having spent years fantasizing about having Grady Sizemore's baby(ies) it seems the inevitable has occurred and he has sort of publicly acknowledged our steamy Bro-Mance. It's about time you sexy bitch!

Thanks Neil!

GRADY SIZEMORE WHO?

Damn - it's cold in Chicago! How cold is it? Let's just say that Ann Coulter would be reaching for her long johns (eewwww!). Thankfully, I had a nice surprise waiting for me in my mailbox today to warm me up...Sidney Crosby!

OK - it wasn't actually the 5'11, 200lb sexier-than-thou hockey player (he wouldn't fit, the magazine below barely did), but after peeling off the cover to this month's Men's Fitness magazine reminding me that this was my last issue, this young God laid before my eyes...

Within moments, my pulse quickened...suddenly I was transported to a locker room in Pittsburgh where young Sidney was having trouble taking his Reebok skates off. Nice guy that I am, I offered to help. He also seemed to be having trouble removing his sweaty, form fitting blue shirt, so of course I helped him off with that too.

I could go on, but I am hesitant to cloud your potential fantasy involving Sidney. Damn, look at those arms! The face, the lips, the, the...sigh!

Shit, why didn't I play hockey as a kid? Oh yeah, I was fat and hated sports. Oh well...damn, he looks so hot in tight black gear! Thanks for warming me up tonight Sidney! Now I need to go and renew my subscription to this fine publication.

Move the fuck out the way Grady Sizemore, there's a new man in my fantasy world of athletes, and you ain't got shit on him!

(PS - Call me Grady, I still heart you!)

REGGIE

One of the less charming aspects of living in my old 6-flat is the tiny, narrow mailboxes that leave little room for my diverse assortment of periodicals and NetFlix envelops. Also, the postal service in Chicago, and my neighborhood in particular, leaves something to be desired. If my mail isn't shoved into the mailbox (I really dislike torn magazine covers, it offends my pretentious aesthetic sensibilities) it's left in a giant pile on the floor, mixed in with everyone else's mail and whatnot.

So it was quite the pleasant surprise to come home from work last night and find Mr. Reggie Bush staring out at my from the pile of mail on the floor. I didn't even know it was my new copy of Men's Fitness, all I know it that I saw some serious hotness staring up at me and went to pick it up. That cover alone makes the $9 subscription worth it. Am I alone in thinking that this image not so subtly homoerotic for a "straight" dude magazine? Were the editors trying to tap into latent homosexual consciousness of straight guys getting all hyped up for the forthcoming football season?

I can understand stand the not wearing a shirt thing/sweaty chest thing, but the unlaced football pants coupled with the pronounced camel toe? Come on, that's more than kinda GAY. It's not Freddy Mercury gay buy you know that somewhere Lance Bass is in a waiting room, holding the new September issue thinking "DAMN, maybe I really do like football".