I did not watch the MTV Awards, so somehow I feel like I should be entitled not to be subjected to the constant bombardment of commentary and judgment of them that I see from every news outlet that I visit. My only, and I mean ONLY point of reference for giving the smallest shit possible about Miley Cyrus is that she is/was/pretended to be at some point engaged to Aussie body beautiful Liam Hemsworth, who appeared in the most recent addition to my celebrity homoerotic wrestling fiction universe, Producer’s Ring, in which Liam battled nasty and naked against big (BIG!) brother Chris. Way, way, way back there in the chain of associations there’s someone I seriously could not pick out of a lineup who goes by the name Miley Cyrus. That’s all I want to know about her. She has zero further importance to me, other than that I must cut her out of my Aussie brother fuck-fantasies and insert myself, pasted directly between the embattled muscle bodies of Liam and Chris. Period. Seriously people. Move on.
Speaking of moving on, I give a slightly bigger shit to the news I saw that the MTV Awards provided the setting for NSync to get back for about two blinks of an eye. Sure, I got hot and sweaty over them when they were barely legal, but more importantly in my erotic fantasy life, Justin Timberlake starred in an all-star, three-way erotic combat fantasy match in the Producer’s Ring against both Ryan Reynolds and Bradley Cooper. For those familiar with Producer’s Ring, it was a Focus Group match (as was the Hemsworth v Hemsworth beatdown), which means the boys battled it out in a gay bathhouse fight-pit wearing, at least to start, nothing but terrycloth. Yeah, somehow I feel a little dirty and a little shallow admitting that Timberlake was polishing me off long before he and his personal trainer carved that hardbodied torso he likes to show off when he’s moonlighting as an actor. I’m okay with it, though.
But Justin is not the only NSync boy to make a satisfying appearance in my celebrity homoerotic wrestling fantasy fiction. JC Chasez sorted me out quite nicely when they were actually a boyband, and then he turned up just a couple of years ago climbing into the pro wrestling ring in my imagination for a battle of the boyander resurrectionists, fighting for a second set of 15 minutes of fame against 98 Degrees pec-master, Jeff Timmons. I swear to Neptune that then and now I’d kick Nick Lachey to the curb in an instant for a naked romp with Timmons. The Chasez v Timmons ring match was seriously ugly, permitting me to sort out seriously guilty vices from a decade earlier when I crushed, in shameful silence, on boybanders-who-should-wrestle.
I saw the news today that Timmons is back to tempt me into further flights of erotic fantasy, hosting a new stage show called the Men of the Strip, putting his Chippendales stint to good use by stripping down alongside eight other hardbodied hotties and teasing audiences to as much sexual arousal as they can legally experience in public (it is Nevada, after all).
I’m lighting some sage and placing a shot of JD at an altar to the gods of homoerotic wrestling, praying for Men of the Strip to morph into a reality television series in which the strippers compete in a single elimination tournament of professional style homoerotic rip n’ strip wrestling in front of a live audience of unbuttoned gay men (I’ve got my seat reserved in the front row). It’s my wrestling fantasy, so I get to make the rules, and they’re simple. Single elimination, pinfall or submission, the eight d-listers pound it out in quarter finals, semis, and then finals to decide which hardbodied fantasyman gets to face Timmon’s nipples for the grand prize of being a backup dancer for a Timberlake music video. Please, oh please gods of homoerotic wrestling, hear my plea…
Which also-ran do you think would pound his way to the top of the heap, and could he take Sweet as Sugar Timmons for his shot working Timberlake from behind? Here are the Men of the Strip that caught my eye as contenders…
2 thoughts on “Moving On”
No posts for almost 2 weeks – what’s happened to you? Hope Miley Cyrus hasn’t kidnapped you! 😉
I wouldn’t blame a certain hardbodied 6’3″ Aussie hunk if he felt the need to pound some sense into me after that post, but alas, no such luck. Neither Miley nor her beefcake boytoy had anything to do with my silence… just work. 😦