Bode MIller – Sidelineland

I’m so pleased with a couple of President’s Day presents I got this year. What, you don’t exchange presents on President’s Day? How sad for you. You should consider it next year. It’s fun.

The first present I received was a nice, hot piece of wrestling fiction giving us a glimpse of what Bode Miller’s future might look like if he ever accepts an invitation to meet with Vince McMahon. Bode won bronze just a couple of days ago at the Olympics. He also gave an interview with Matt Lauer that made me think that Bode’s still a little dickish. Matt had to spoon feed Bode some lines to get Bode to say something warm and fuzzy about his baby.

Bode still has a naughty fratboy air about him that I continue to think would serve him well in pro-wrestling. This new piece of fiction now posted at the Sidelineland wrestling fiction group paints a picture of Bode’s up-close introduction Chris Master’s granite pecs.

Then, totally coincidentally, another reader dropped still another fictional wrestling match in my inbox to share with the Sidelineland wrestling fiction group. Sweet! From an entirely different angle, this second original piece of hot creativity paints us the picture of what it would look like for the boys of the 80’s TV show CHiPs to finally prove who’s in charge. I seriously love me some of Jon’s blond farmboy look, and frankly I was ready to put money on him cracking Ponch like a hazelnut across his knee. But don’t count out the Latin heartthrob.

I was so inspired with the spirit of giving, I put my nose to the grindstone and finished off a fictional match I’ve been working on for a while. Ripped from the headlines, my twisted imagination wondered what might it look like for fitness model muscle god, James Dawson Martin to answer Mitch Colby’s MySpace ad looking for some musclehead to wrestle. Mitch, the reigning title holder of my favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy, has his hands full with the massive muscles of ambitious young James. The production team gets sucked into the action in this BG East fantasy fight, as muscleboys learn, once again, the importance of reading the fine print before you sign your contract.

For anyone interested in reading and, hopefully, contributing some original wrestling fiction, you can find these hot and sweaty tales of hardbodies at the Sidelineland wrestling fiction group.

Seriously, this was my favorite President’s Day ever. By far. Hands down.

Just days away, and the testosterone wafting up through the jet stream from Vancouver is intoxicating. Finely toned, world class bodies are at this very moment in the peak condition of their lives and assembled with other world class athletes all in one place.

Since I don’t follow many winter sports, I’m once again relying on helpful readers to point me in the direction that I intuitively know that I want to be led. That’s how I was put on the trail of Mike Komisarek, 6’4″ 243 pound defensemen playing for the Toronto Maple Leafs. He’s got a beefy farmboy look about him I like.

And whatever the hell this kid in white is doing to Mike, I promise you, I can do it so much better. Although Mike is by all means Olympic quality beef, sadly, he’s apparently withdrawn from the US hockey team in the past few days in order to have shoulder surgery. Still, his shirtless hotness gets me in the Olympic spirit, and I would be more than willing to lend a hand (or any other part of my anatomy) to help with Mike’s physical therapy.

Another Olympic hardbody worth mentioning is most certainly American downhill skier, Bode Miller. What I like about 6’2″, 214 pound Bode is he’s irreverent, hot, and cocky as hell. If he decided to skip the tennis turn and jump into the pro wrestling ring, I predict he’d go far. He has a nice sense of humor and is, quite literally, willing to let it all hang out. Towleroad snagged a nice catch from Funny or Die, featuring Bode buck naked (yet censored, those bastards).

What I don’t care for in Bode Miller is that he seems like a bit of a dick. I realize that this is a fine distinction I’m drawing. Cocky arrogance matched with a hardbody and irreverent attitude is hot. Playing the half-stoned indestructible fratboy, on the other hand, isn’t so attractive (unless he’s getting his ass kicked, stripped, and spanked, in that order). Bragging about doing some of his best skiing hung over to 60 minutes, and then being sent back by the U.S. Olympic organization to officially apologize is, from start to finish, a little dickish in my mind.

Who’s next? What muscled cold-weather hunk is waiting to grab hold of my imagination and drop kick it across the ring? Can’t wait!