El Matador

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Towleroad’s Sportraits strike again. I’ve now been introduced to the wonders that are Roger Huerta.

The ink is fantastic. The muscles are stunning. The face is devastatingly handsome. This man is art.
The fact that he’s a mixed martial arts fighter makes him almost too good to be true. Mounted on top of his opponent with those thick legs crushing his man, his gorgeously tattooed arms raining down punches into his defenseless opponent’s face… jaw dropping beauty and brutal beast all rolled up in one… again, this is art.
So I’ve discovered since beginning to obsess about him, that Roger Huerta was the first UFC fighter to be featured on the cover of Sports Illustrated. It’s no wonder. This man was made to be photographed… well, that and licked from head to toe.
He cleans up nice and gives good face. He’s also a seriously hot stallion in bed. Very, very nice find. Thanks, Towleroad, for the introduction.

Bodies Over Time – Fast-Forward Edition

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This is a bodies-over-time post in fast forward. Rio Garza (aka Ray Martinez, aka Alan Valdez, aka Alan Arturo) has been quickly making quite a name for himself (well, several names). I first caught a glimpse of him on YouTube preening and flexing and begging for followers about a year ago. His little boy face on top of the body of a sculpted musclegod is hard to tear your eyes away from.

Rio (let’s just call him Rio) is marketing himself from a lot of different angles. I respect that. As he ages, it will undoubtedly be harder and harder work for him to maintain the body of an adonis, so cash in when the work is plentiful and relatively easy. Modeling and competing as Alan Valdez, his rock hard body has been photographed in a state of physical perfection. When his physique is entirely on game, he’s massively muscled, vascular, shredded to bits and completely devoid of body fat.
Battling for BG East as Rio Garza, this beautiful boy is just a half step off of the physical perfection he’s been documented to achieve in some of his modeling shots. Personally, I think his appearances with BGE have been his best wrestling work. I suspect that even the very latest releases starring Rio from BGE may have all been filmed several months ago, because from product to product he appears similarly massively muscled and cut like crystal. He may not have the 0% body fat of some of his modeling work, but he isn’t far off that mark, with his abs ready for some heavy duty laundry. I think BGE has also captured Rio looking confident, despite being owned over and over like the muscle jobber he’s fated to be. His opponents clearly recognize the remarkable physical specimen he is, and they work his muscles like concert pianists, striking every chord to perfection.
Wrestling for Rock Hard Wrestling as Ray Martinez, Rio is noticeably less sharply defined (though no less stunningly gorgeous). He looks decidedly less confident for RHW than BGE, which I suspect may be due to the relative directing skills of the companies. RHW hasn’t yet drawn from Rio the type of performance that truly capitalizes on his muscle jobber potential. The other RHW boys with some legitimate wrestling skills (of various stripes) do some entertaining work making Rio/Ray suffer, but they don’t dabble in the worship side of things like BGE has done. Rio/Ray appears to always be geared up in tight, if expansive, trunks for RHW, whereas BGE has talked him into putting his gorgeous ass on display, wrestling in a jock strap.
Now Rio/Ray/Alan appears to be about to grapple for Can-Am. They just posted some teaser pics with him appearing side-by-side with Aryx Quinn for another installment in their new Arena series. Can-Am is touting Rio as theirs exclusively, which seems a little like closing the corral gate well after the horse has gotten loose. As always, Rio looks like a tasty treat. He’s yet another step down from his competition form, though, both less sharply defined and less developed. The stills are all photo shoot poses (no action shots), but he’s appearing so far in very brief yellow trunks. I think both Aryx and Rio were in better shape when they faced off in BG’s Bad Boys, but so far, the Arena series has been entirely a loser-gets-fucked product, so if they’ve scored Rio in his first fuck scene, this product is going to fly off the shelves.
I must say, though, that Rio/Ray/Alan also looks a little less happy with each bit of salesmanship he stars in. His little boy smile in his early modeling pics are absolutely adorable. BGE captured some happy moments from the coverboy, looking awfully pleased with himself with his devastating body about to be devastated. His appearances for RHW have showcased him looking a little put out, like he’s feeling a little impatient with the workday to be over with. His stills for Can-Am look downright morose. However, if the sour look is a result of developing a new fierceness on the mats, or if it arises from a virginal foray into loser-gets-fucked action, he can pout all he wants: he’ll still be golden with the fans, I’m sure.

Earning a Shot

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Joe11nj is getting into the spirit of things. He commented this weekend on my last ode to Steel Muscle God, where Joe suggested that he can imagine young muscle stud, Yann666 overcoming SMG and making the musclegod submit in a full nelson bodyscissors.
First of all, well done Joe11nj! I’m 100% in support of your hot wrestling kink imagination being fully engaged. Looking at young Yann, I see what you’re talking about. The French phenom appears to have that freakish genetic gift of tiny little joints and ridiculously massive muscles, with the gorgeous vascularity that you know I love. Looking at Yann’s most-muscular, I can indeed imagine that he would pose a serious threat to power out of SMG’s full nelson decisively.
But I have to cry foul if we jump ahead in the story to the moment that Yann drags SMG to the ground in a full nelson body scissors threatening to break his godly neck. Young Yann really should earn his way to a muscle on muscle battle of bodies with the reigning champion of my imaginary YouTube muscle worship wrestling competition. Brit powerhouse Adam400m is still the top contender to redeem himself from his humiliating beating after a back-and-forth battle with the man who would ultimately demand Adam’s obedient worship.


SMG gets to watch, his thick arms folded across his bulging pecs, leaning against a wall as Adam and Yann slowly circle one another in the center of the room. Adam outweighs the Frenchman, and he’s motivated by his humiliating defeat at the hands (legs, pecs, arms) of his god to regain face. Yann is such a cocky little bastard, though, sneering with contempt at Adam’s bodybuilder muscles as the two of them circle one another cautiously.

The Frenchman is in board shorts, which seems to be his standard gear. Adam, in his navy blue speedo, taunts Yann. “If I had little chicken legs like those, I’d hide them, too,” Adam sneers. Stopping, placing his hands on his hips, Adam flexes his tree trunk thighs, slowly rotating back and forth to display every bulge and crevice of his massive, legs. “Of course,” Adam smiles, “I clearly don’t have chicken legs like yours.”
The French hardbody spins in a blur of motion, swinging his right leg high and driving his heel into the side of Adam’s face with a dull thud. Adam’s head whips to the side from the shocking blow, and he drops to one knee, cradling his face in his hands.
“Those big muscles won’t help you much once I’ve broken your legs,” Yann says, his thick French accent making his threat of savage brutality sound civilized.

Avoiding Enslavement

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Superherofan is doing an excellent job of reminding me about the gorgeous buffet of manflesh on the Starz series, Spartacus: Blood and Sand. For some reason, I need reminding, because this series (shockingly) has not become must-see television for me. The sheer quantity of high, high quality muscles on display, frequently naked, in the context of the brutality and life-and-death gladiator competition of the Roman arena seems like it would be seared into my head as a required television destination. For some reason, it has not.

To the extent that I have watched, the concept revolves around the objectification of human life, and in particular the objectification of the smokin’ hot male muscleboy. Um… yeah… why am I not watching this series slavishly?
It’s not a lack of lustfulness for the star of the show, Andy Whitfield. Sweet God, that body is like a playground jungle-gym: it must be grabbed and climbed upon, and every inch must be explored.
Astonishingly gorgeous muscle asses appear to regularly be center stage. Frequently, they’re pumping and flexing in mesmerizing rhythms of intercourse. My imaginative powers can easily photoshop the women on the bottom out of the scenes and insert my own hard pulsing body in their place. The more-than-occasional full-frontal shot also lifts Spartacus well above other skin-fest productions that I’ve been helpless to fall in obsessive lust with.
But Spartacus hasn’t yet truly captured me, enslaved me, and beaten me into submission. All the right elements haven’t yet possessed me in the manner that I expected them to. I suspect this may be a series that ensnares through the devious devices of Netflix. Sometimes I’m not just ready for a new obsession until I’m ready.
Like Michael C. Hall who recently announced his battle with cancer, Spartacus himself, Andy Whitfield is under treatment for lymphoma. The irony is, as it always is, cruel. The epitome of virility and at the peak of physical perfection, Andy is now battling with a life threatening illness. My thoughts and prayers are for his speedy recovery, his return to full health, and his gorgeous beauty once again clad only in a loin cloth… or less.

On the Road to Perfection

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I just can’t stay away from Rock Hard Wrestling. I still don’t think that they’ve hit their stride, which is understandable considering they’re just a few months young. But they do have some excellent elements to continue to perfect.

Hot off the presses, their most recent release captures some of what I’m enjoying most, and least, about the boys of RHW. First of all, the boys themselves are stunning. Hunky young studs getting sweaty and laying on some hurt are always a thing of beauty. The performances are, I think, improving. I don’t know what order the matches were shot in, but I think, for example, amateur hardbody Cameron Davis is owning the ring much better and working in more impact pro moves. Even more encouraging, he’s working some personality, including some sneering cheap shots like trapping little Brody in the corner and pounding a quick series of knees to his skinny midsection, and (my favorite), pinning Brody chest-first draped across the top rope, with one of Brody’s arms hammered behind his back, while Cameron knees him a couple of sharp shots to his tailbone. These boys move well. They know their own bodies, and they understand how to exercise ownership over their opponent’s body.
The $12.95 instant download to own is still a major plus for me and my inability to control my need for instant gratification. RHW’s production quality continues to be extremely high, though the editing in the Brody/Cameron match is a little nauseating at times (a few too many quick cuts from camera to camera, especially early on). The action is short, which is a little disappointing. The 9 minutes of Cameron and Brody going at it is pretty nicely packed and well-paced, though.
Match 2 from this release is a nice surprise for me. Again, I know, I know, I know. Some of you don’t care for squashes or 2-on-1’s. I, though, enjoy a sweet double team when it’s told well. Watching Zack Johnathan get literally tossed back and forth between Shawn and Brody is a sweet little fantasy scenario. Zack needs to be punished until he can sell his dialogue without looking like he’s about to laugh at his own camp. When Brody cranks on Zack’s knee over and over, then steps away, holding out his hand to welcome Shawn to have a turn, I have to smile. Zack suffers better than he dominates, so 8 minutes of him being mandhandled and taunted (“Yeah, say hi to the camera… How do you like that?”) is pretty damn tasty. Like Cameron, Shawn sells significantly better than I’ve seen him, perhaps inspired by the master salesman, Brody. Best by far is the detail that Shawn sweats like he’s in a sauna from minute one. Almost all the action is tossing Zack back and forth between the boys, so I’d love to have seen more actual 2-0n-1 holds. But Brody and Shawn are cooperative, and they remember to look like they’re enjoying Zack’s suffering (as am I… this is seriously a fantasy of mine, watching Zack suffer until he’s defenseless and can’t smirk).
Area’s for RHW to continue to perfect: 1) Brody’s gear against Cameron looks a little silly. I saw someone else comment that his joe-boxer briefs (isn’t that an oxymoron?) popping out from his skimpy trunks look a little like he’s wearing grandma’s panties under there. Brody performs like an unmistakable pro, so put this boy in a jock strap. 2) The audio isn’t quite selling me, again particularly in the Cameron/Brody match-up. The musak in the background is fine (I’ve seen others comment that they find it distracting… it fills some dead space well enough for me). The grunts and bangs as bodies pound the canvas are excellent. But the big empty gym space and private setting make it seem odd to me that Brody and Cameron don’t say word one to each other from start to finish (practically… Brody mumbles “…like that?…” near the end). Some cocky banter would help sell the private setting and deliver some motivation.

RHW will need to recruit some new rock hard bodies soon, I think, to keep the products fresh and develop a new story now and then. They simply must send Zack to intensive improv boot camp until that doofus smirk gets transformed into a cocky sneer (he simply must learn the difference). Buy Brody a jock strap. Set the boys loose with more verbal domination. Keep up the truly excellent production quality, and pay Brody whatever he asks, because he’s what’s keeping the infant operation legitimate.

Flood Fights

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Kid Leopard mentioned over at BGE Headquarters that the BG East matroom, a couple of offices and storage were all flooded in the recent torrential rains that hit the Northeast. The boys of BGE had to scramble to remove everything out of harm’s way.

My first response to this news flash is sympathy for the BGE staff. I’ve dealt with a flooded basement before, and it sucks. There’s a helpless feeling about watching the water rise indoors. Mother nature puts us in our place, sometimes, reminding us that she’ll kick our asses at any moment she chooses.
My second response was concern for the goods. Save the tapes! Especially, save the classics! I’ve also had to deal with poorly archived materials that get neglected or destroyed accidentally. In the case of BGE, I think the classic materials (Bratpacks, BG in Hollands, all the KL Superbouts) are cultural treasures in need of loving preservation and protection.
My third response (yes, I overthink things… as if you didn’t know that already), was perfectly in line with commenter Magnus who quickly pointed out that the idea of BGE boys wet and sweaty from working all night saving materials from the flood sounds sort of hot. From my experience, dealing with natural disasters can makes tempers flare. Nerves get frayed. Blame starts getting tossed around for every little loss that can’t be undone. And, indeed, there’s plenty of sweat and grime to lubricate small slights (and bodies).
Yep, I can see some seriously hot, wet wrestling coming out of this whole scenario. Perhaps this would be an excellent opportunity to see Brad Rochelle brought out of the back office and back onto the mats, wet, frustrated, sweaty and in a nasty mood. I think Denny Cartier would be the kind of trouper to come in and lend a hand in a pinch, and then get unfairly picked on when tempers flare. And yes, I must angle once again to see more of Lon/Lou Dumont, who would be on hand to help, but then get teased for being too small to carry his weight, before he’d have to open up a can of whoop-ass on some loud-mouthed bigboy… let’s say Tyrell Tomsen.
Everyone wet and in a foul mood… yes, I think BG East could make some lemonade. Regardless, I wish them well. I’m placing an order this weekend, and I’ll keep in mind that the staff may be a little stressed by the flood… and that spontaneous, dirty, sweaty fights may have broken out, distracting the staff further. Good luck, boys!

I Know It When I See It

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“Every Once in a while, a wrestler comes out of nowhere and blazes across the sky like a meteor, or a shooting star. Kid Karisma, blessed with a ripped physique, energy, personality and wrestling skill to spare, is one of those blazing stars.”
That’s the beginning of the text-teaser for BG East’s new product, Gear Wars 1. I love reading lines that like. They transport a sincere little production from softcore porn into ancient Greek melodrama. Text like that sets us up to recognize hot, sweaty scrappers hurting one another on wrestling mats as the Olympic gods that they truly are, playing out their private battles for all of us to watch, admire, pick sides and own our little piece of the divine drama.
A perceptive author painted the picture of Kid Karisma for us as “this Teutonic god-like young man with the impressive torso, sculpted arms, and beauteous bulbous butt.” This is what good text does for this genre. It puts its finger precisely on the obvious truth staring us in the face, but it does it with such skill and art that we see more than we may have seen without it. Yes, Kid Karisma is indeed Teutonic god-like. I’d never have thought of him in those terms, but now that you mention it, that’s exactly what he is! His ass is indeed a beauteous bulbous butt. It’s not like I hadn’t noticed, but the alliteration and string of apt adjectives capture precisely what is so stunning about Kid’s ass.
The text here is like 3-D glasses at the movie theater. It’s not as if we can’t appreciate the 2 dimensional pictures on the screen without them, but the words of the craftsman bring the images into high definition. They make that bulbous butt pop right out of the screen. They trigger our imaginative perception that makes us experience this not like a photo album, but as if that gorgeous ass was right in our faces, as if we could actually reach out and grab those astonishing cheeks in the palms of our hands and feel the muscled heft of that jaw-dropping derriere.
The byline for this pic of Kid captures my thoughts exactly. “Kid Karisma: They don’t come any more iconic than this. Tom of Finland and MATT would love this guy!” And there it is again, precisely! Kid in his tube socks and jock strap, with that astounding ass looks exactly like a caricature of a homoerotic wrestling character from the classic artists of the genre. Spot-on description for the almost unspeakable beauty of a freckle-faced red-head with the body ripped directly out of my most cherished fantasies.

Art provokes. That’s the bottom line for me. If it’s too obvious, then it’s journalism. If it’s so esoteric that I don’t care, it’s folly. But if I’m provoked, if it makes me do a double take, if I’m perplexed, aroused, indignant or adamant in response, then it must be art. Like the Supreme Court’s struggle to define obscenity, I may not always have an objective definition of art, but I know it when I see it. Like the sight of Rocco’s face squashed underneath Kid Karisma’s ass while Kid leans back to crush his opponent’s skull, grimacing in concentration as if on the threshold of ecstatic climax… that’s art, boys.

And art and capitalism intersect at the point that I see the photos; I read the text; my heart begins to race as my hand is drawn, as if by a mind of its own, to my swelling cock. And I am provoked to own a copy of the divine drama for myself.

Eyes a-Smilin’

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Everyone’s doin’ it. I tend to try to avoid bandwagons, but what the hell. In honor of the utterly decontextualized St. Patrick’s Day, here are a few of the products of the Emerald Isle that I’m always happy to see more of.

My favorite Irish lad, by a long shot, is Cillian Murphy. The moment I saw him in 28 Days Later, I was instantly in love. He lit up the bleak, post-apocalyptic landscape like a spotlight. He was naked, vulnerable, fierce and simply stunning to watch.
It’s true, I lust after Cillian, but I must confess, I also have a crush on him. If I ever had the opportunity to look into those fluorescent blue eyes, I’m sure I’d fall into them and drown.
He plays an insane sadist really well, which is a serious turn on for me (talk amongst yourselves). Whether he’s driving people crazy in Batman or playing nasty mind games with random strangers in Red Eye, I love his use of his mesmerizing, transparent, ice blue eyes as cover for a sick and twisted heart. Being emotionally captured by Cillian does not preclude me from having a strong desire to see him suplexed and scissored. But I just can’t bring myself to picture anyone else tussling with him other than me.
Running a close second behind Cillian is actor-now-director Stuart Townsend. Playing the vampire Lestat in leather pants is pretty much guaranteed to catapult a hunk into iconic status in my mind (unless your initials are T.C., then you’re mostly just a dick).
There’s something fundamentally sexual about Stuart. He oozes sensuality. He must be touched, smelled, tasted… thrown into a sweat-soaked camel clutch until he submits in body and soul.
And Stuart is also aging really, really well.
Irish hot-head Jonathan Rhys Meyers has already made two appearances in my fictional wrestling fantasies, with mixed results. Jonathan can convince me that he really is King Henry VIII, despite being an Irish boy who looks absolutely nothing like the ginger, portly despot (sorry, my English friends). Jonathan sells this story with the attitude that suggests he’s used to playing the bully.
Which is exactly what makes him ideal for a wrestling fantasy. Well, that, and his hard little body that demands to be beaten severely and promises to keep coming back for more.
My final favorite Irish lad is, I realize, #1 for many other people. Colin Farrell is the perpetual naughty boy of Hollywood. His tats are quite beautiful. His big brown eyes are gorgeous. He has a classically handsome face. He’s displayed his well-endowed erect cock for the world to take a gander. I think he even has a gay brother that he’s vocally supportive of. Still, he only comes in behind Jonathan and Stuart and a mile behind Cillian in my affections. He’d make a great babyface heel, but he’s been so overexposed that I’m just not drawn to him… as much as the aforementioned beauties. Not that I would kick him out of bed, or turn down the opportunity to have him deliver some sadistic low blows in the ring. Bring it on, Colin. Take our best shot.

Happy, hunky St. Patrick’s Day, everyone.

That Air of Invincibility

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But how does YouTube know what to recommend? Not that I’m complaining, mind you, but when YouTube tells me that I should check out this young hot thing bare-assed, flexing, and in undisguised love with his own body, I have to wonder: Is YouTube God? Does YouTube know the secret longings of my heart?

It’s really All American Guys that get the credit for this bit of fluff. This cocky bit of invicibility brags that his biceps are about 17″ thick right now, “but around 5 months ago they were probably sitting at around 18, 18 and a half.”
He tell us he’s planning on putting a couple more inches back on the biceps, filling them out and making the peaks pop out even more. That’s what he’s planning to do, he tells us. Then he corrects himself: “That’s what I WILL do.” I get the impression that this blond adonis with big white teeth is used to getting what he wants. Perhaps, more precisely, he’s used to taking what he wants.
What a priceless moment in time is captured here. That moment when the cocky muscle stud is in awe of his own physique. That moment when a little time in the gym makes his testosterone-soaked muscles balloon up in an instant. That moment when he looks at himself and his eyebrows arch, as if thinking to himself, “Hell, I am fucking amazing!”
Right at that moment is when he needs to step up and into a ring, convinced of his own immortality and invincibility, in awe of himself, stunned by his rocking body and unwaveringly certain that everyone who lays eyes on him will be slack-jawed in adoring awe. That’s the juiciest moment in time for a young cock to strut into the ring and come face to face with the mature, patient, battle-built body of a master who’s broken more than his fair share of stallions.
Sure, kid. Go rest up after getting tired and sweaty from your photo shoot. Sure, kid. Shower off and relax naked in the dressing room for a while. When you’re ready for the big show, step on out, climb on up, and take your shot at destiny.

The People Have Spoken

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The polling for the competitors in the elimination tournament to determine who will join the ranks of the secretarial pool in Brody Productions turned out surprisingly tight! There were some clear winners and clear losers, with three hot studs right in the middle who battled to the bitter end for the final two spots in the tournament. Let’s start with the losers:

Phil Baroni made a late push in the polls, but fell short of earning a spot in the competition. As I’ve mentioned before, Phil is the stuff of fantasies, though, so I wouldn’t be surprised to find him showing up in some fantasy wrestling of some sort. The Producer’s Ring has given him a pass, though, so he’s a free agent. Someone really ought to write this beautiful boy a wrestling match for the Sidelineland group.
Bryan Thomas actually lost a vote late in polling, which is intriguing. Someone changed a vote or two, which smells of some back alley horse trading. I’m actually little surprised by Bryan’s poor showing. Again, he’s a free agent for anyone to pick up and write up a wrestling match, and personally I’m hoping to see his hairy pecs featured prominently.
Jamie Dominic remains a personal obsession of mine, despite his inability to curry favor with a majority of the voters. If someone else doesn’t get around to it sooner, I expect that he’ll have appear in one of my wrestling fiction fantasies eventually. Seriously… only 4 votes?
Matt Schiermeier never gained any traction throughout the polling. He looks like a beast to me, but he just didn’t seem to grab much attention. I think he’s pissed about his poor showing, and he’s ready to prove something. Someone should pick up this free agent and put that ass to work… in a jock strap, please.
Now for the clear winners: Nick Auger kicked ass in this polling! Not that I’m surprised, but 3 out of 4 voters were certain that Nick must be given a shot at a spot in the secretarial pool. With the sheer size he’s brining with him, he’s bound to be a dominant force in the tournament. The fashion boys in the mix had better bring some dirty tricks with them, because if it comes down to raw power, Nick is going to be breaking boys in half.
Jakub Stefano was spinning his wheels for the first 24 hours of voting, hitch-hiking toward Loserville. Suddenly, though, he made a surge that propelled him from last place to second place. He’s one massive and beautiful man who, like Nick, could be bringing enough muscles to do serious harm on some of the runway boys in the mix. This boy is sporting so many targets of abuse, though: the massive pecs, the half-dollar nipples, the babyface… that ASS!? His best shot at victory may be that his opponents will be paralyzed by too many options to focus their torturing attentions.
One of the runway boys who had staying power throughout polling was Brazilian hunk, Rafael Verga. I’m sure his countryman, Miro Moreira (already a powerhouse in the secretarial pool), was pulling for him. Up against the likes of the muscleboys who’ve secured a place in the tournament, Rafael had better bring his A-game and then some! Someone is likely to be bound and determined to mess up that movie-star face of his.
Sean Sullivan is another musclestud who stayed strong and earned an undisputed spot on the card. I think that Sean may be the only hardbody who can stand muscle for muscle next to Nick. If this turns into a muscle competition, the champion may be determined by a battle between these two meaty morsels.
Alan Ritchson mounted a serious last-minute push to come from way, way behind in voting. I’d pretty much counted him out of the running, but he crossed the finish line with just enough support to secure a spot in the tournament. With screen credits to his name, Alan very well may be an early target for some of the lesser known challengers who are determined to make a name for themselves by felling the 6’2″ chiseled blond.
Ellis McCreadie has also earned himself a major bullseye painted on his ass for his automatic-by into the tournament. With egos to match the size of their massive muscles, a lot of these boys are going to be seriously put out to discover a relative nobody didn’t have to put his reputation on the line to get an invitation to this show. Who, exactly, did Ellis have to fuck to be handed his shot at power? Who, exactly, will be determined to fuck him over in order to put him in his place (i.e., on his stomach with his ass in the air)?
Jared Prudoff had a strong initial showing in the polls until he stalled dead in the water for the final 24 hours of voting. Frankly, I was worried that he wasn’t going to make the final cut. I seriously wanted to see some of these boys get their hands on Jared, and see what the tall-dark-and-handsome fashion boy might be able to pull out of his ass to earn his way beyond the first round.
Kerry Degman also had a strong initial showing that hit a brick wall halfway through voting. I was a little astonished to watch VJ Logan pose a serious threat to Kerry for the final ticket to the tournament. VJ Logan? Seriously? The diversity of tastes and preferences out there truly astounds me sometimes. Since I’m the one who will be devoting several hours of my life sorting through the action between all these boys, I’m glad that Kerry eeked out enough support to get the last spot in the competition. He may have come in last in polling, but I get the sense that he’s got the skills, the speed, and the willingness to go to any lengths to be a serious contender.

So there are your choices for the card of competitors to battle it out for a spot in the secretarial pool. Matches should begin to be posted before the end of the week. Let me know who you think will shine, who you think will stumble, and just how you think 7 out of 8 cocky pretty boys are going to suffer humiliating defeat.