The beauty of the Internet is the relative anonymity it can provide. It’s rather cathartic, if you think about it, not dissimilar to confession. You can type your soul out in an online journal, and simply set your profile to Private. You can tell the Internet your darkest secrets, and no one will be the wiser should they meet you on the street. Bloggers can write with impunity and choose either to remain completely invisible or famewhore it up as much as the celebrities they skewer on their sites. Those who know me well, or maybe those who have met me only once, would know almost instantly that I am behind this particular piece of Net-rature. I’ve been told that I have a rather distinctive “voice”, that I write almost exactly how I speak. After I finish this particular post, however, some may wonder if they really know me at all.
I have made no secret nor apology for my propensity toward younger men. Put simply, I adore almost everything about them. I most definitely have a “type”, and that type tends to lean more often than not to something in his early twenties with well-defined bone structure. But for every type, there exists an anti-type. And my anti-type is something I refer to as my Creepy Old Dude crush.
Without further ado, here is my top three:
1. Christopher Walken.
Make no mistake: Christopher Walken was a hot piece when he was younger. But it wasn’t until I saw him as a bad-ass version of the angel Gabriel in that fine quality film The Prophecy – when he was 52 – that I put him on my Top Ten list. The more movies I see him in over the years, the higher he creeps. Maybe it’s the quirky characters he portrays. Maybe it’s the way he has to work a song-and-dance sequence into every part he plays. Maybe it’s because he’s the man who brought us More Cowbell. He is the perfect embodiment of the Creepy Old Dude, the real-life version of Mr. Burns from The Simpson. Mmmm… Mr. Burns. Every time I hear him say “Excellent!” I get a little, ummm, excited. Sorry… too much information?
2. Jeremy Irons
Nothing says “dirty sex” like a gravelly English accent. The English have this incredible talent for making even the most innocent of phrases sound like the rudest thing you’ve ever heard. Jeremy Irons excels at this, at least in my mind. Although his manner is all elegance and refinement, every word from his lips oozes innuendo. You cannot help but wonder what sort of kink lies beneath. Could he have that in common with some of the characters he plays, like in Damage or M. Butterfly, you wonder breathlessly? Better yet, will you ever have the chance to find out for yourself?
3. Umm… Clint Eastwood?
Now this one comes as a bit of a shock, even to me. I mean, I’ve always respected him as Dirty Harry. Sure, I thought he was pretty hot in Hang ‘Em High and his other spaghetti Westerns. But he was born in the same year as my father. And before you get all Freudian, I am the last person who would have Daddy issues. Despite all appearances to the contrary, I’m remarkably well-adjusted. So imagine my surprise and horror when I have a dream starring Clint Eastwood as the boss who is sexually harassing me via suggestive emails. I say “harassing”, but what happened on the dream desk in his office was nothing but consensual. No idea where this dream came from. Maybe the little spark I felt watching the Gran Torino commercials has translated into this. And therefore, by necessity, Clint must round out my Top Three.
Okay. There it is. Must go hide now.
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Sometimes this shit just writes itself, you know? It’s taken me a few days to compose myself since Tuesday’s candy-coated episode of Make Me a Supermodel. It featured the models being photographed as candy. Uh…yum.
His Clark Kent good looks drew me right from the start – I’m a sucker for geek chic sometimes if it’s done just right – but this time I can pinpoint the precise moment when I fell in love. It was when he was talking about his extended awkward stage, how he had needed to grow into the looks he still was uncertain about, and that he was a still a virgin at the tender age of… 21. And all this while the stylists were covering him in chocolate for his photo.
A twenty-one year old chocolate-covered virgin.
It’s like the heavens converged and dropped him onto this mortal plain just for me. Three of my most favouritest things in the world, wrapped up in a six-foot-tall package of yummy. But I’m not a fool. I realize that his geeky charm will not get him far in this competition. I know that he cannot walk for shit on the runway, regardless of how hard he practices for it… which is super-cute.His pictures are good, but not spectactular. I can admit that, as blinded by lust as I am.
This season on MMASM, this kid has some stiff competition. Mainly in the form of Branden. Branden is 18. Branden has cheekbones that look like they’ve been carved by Michelangelo himself, and the kind of runway walk that leaves you begging for more. He has the self-assured, borderline cocky gait that only comes with the arrogance and ignorance of youth. He’s eighteen. He still lives at home with his mommy. Life has not beaten him down, it hasn’t chewed him up and spit him out yet. And so he struts like the world is his for the taking. Who knows? Maybe it is. But it could also belong to Gabriel, the brooding twenty-two year old photographer with lips that could double as God’s pillows. Or Sandhurst, the classically trained dancer from the Carribean.
I could go on and talk about Jonathan, the English construction worker now based in L.A. And I haven’t even started on the girls, like Salome or Jordan, whose pictures are nothing short of breath-taking. This is the beauty of MMASM – male or female, it’s anyone’s game.
But for now, let us just worship Colin for the gloriously geeky virgin that he is.
Filed under: Make Me A Supermodel, Male Models - What's Not to Love? | Leave a Comment
Part One: Pale and Interesting
I have always been Team Edward. Well, Team Vampire, really… it’s just that Edward Cullen is (quite literally) the shiny new toy in my list of vampire boyfriends. My vampire obsession started with reading Bram Stoker’s Dracula in high school, then was further fuelled by Gary Oldman and the costume orgasm that made up most of the 1992 film, and finally became etched into the very core of my being over seven seasons of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Spike helped out a lot with that. He was part of my Blond British Bad Boy phase… another tale for another time to be sure.
Let me be clear – I am fully aware that the Twilight series (can’t call it “saga”… sorry) is not literature by any stretch of the imagination. I am in no way comparing Stephenie Meyer to Bram Stoker, or Catherine Hardwicke to Francis Ford Coppola. That would be like comparing Dolfin chocolate – the finest ever made – to Nestle’s bargain brand. At the end of the day chocolate is chocolate, and vampires are vampires. It’s all good.
I realize I’m rambling. So sorry – it happens so frequently I barely notice anymore.
Before Twilight, I was incredibly cynical when it came to romance. At least, so it had seemed. Then along comes Twilight – well, Edward – and suddenly I’m a cauldron of boiling emotion. Edward was the only reason I stuck through those books; well, along with Alice and Jasper. I could barely stand Bella. I mean, she started out okay, then her whining obsession with Edward became mildly annoying, and that annoyance quickly snowballed into seething anger and loathing by the fourth book. Her insistence on keeping Jacob around really made me hate her. She had the most perfect man in existence, but that apparently wasn’t enough. Greedy bitch. Oh-oh, here comes the seething again… back on track. Jacob made me mad, odd considering I’m usually all about the younger man. He was just so damned happy all the time, and I like my men with a healthy dose of angst served with a side of tousled hair and cheekbones.
Which leads me to another point – although Edward was described as physically perfect, I always had trouble picturing the bronze hair and amber eyes. Perfect is a highly subjective term – it means many different things to many different people. My mind just kept conjuring up images of Rick Astley or David Caruso from CSI Miami – not good either way. Total moodkiller. It wasn’t until I saw who they had chosen to play Edward for the film version of Twilight that it finally clicked for me. And my loins haven’t been the same since. Robert Pattison playing Robert Pattison doesn’t really do much for me – sure, he was cute as Cedric Diggory in HP Goblet of Fire, but my heart belongs to Draco. Of course, the accent does work, but his poor hygiene and hirsuteness do not. But RP playing EC? Swoon…
Speaking of poor hygiene and excessive hair, let’s move on to the second part of this post.
Part Two: Werewolf Jailbait
Jacob Black in the books did nothing for me. Werewolves generally never have. Not even Michael J Fox in Teen Wolf – and I had a huge crush on MJF. Put simply, I abhor body hair. November 21st 2008 changed all that – well, not the aversion to body hair, but the werewolf thing. Sixteen year old Taylor Lautner made Jacob actually likable in the Twilight film. And kind of illicitly hot. I walked out of the theatre, turned to my friend and said “We are so going to prison”. Little did I know what was coming. No pun intended. Okay, maybe a little bit.
Fast forward to last night’s MTV Movie Awards, and the much-anticipated preview of the New Moon trailer. I’ll be honest – I’m an old woman. I can’t stay up late enough to watch these things, so I Google them first thing in the morning. Yes, I know… sad. So there I was, sitting innocently at my desk waiting for the video to load and looking around furtively to be sure I would not get caught, and then I look up and suddenly it’s last year all over again. There’s Edward in a well-cut dark suit, looking pale and perfect but not powdery like the first film which means the makeup artists did a much better job this time, and oooh he’s so angst-y because he has to leave her in order to save her and hello what’s this? WTF Jacob Black? Is this even legal? Seventeen and shirtless looking like THAT? I usually quote Marilyn Monroe when I say I don’t like a man with too many muscles, but damn… I wouldn’t kick him out of bed for eating crackers. Well, in this case it would be dog treats, but when a boy looks like that, does it really matter? Isn’t it just semantics?
Okay, I’ve typed enough. Picture time!
First up, Edward – who should really have a marble-smooth chest and abs that aren’t airbrushed, but still I hurt just looking at this picture. And then we have Jacob. And yes, I know you’re thinking what I’m thinking. That we’re all going to prison.
Filed under: Cougar-tastic, Vampire hotness, Wolf Love | Leave a Comment
You may have figured out by now that although I’m in my thirties, I usually function with the emotional maturity of a 16 year old. Except where sci-fi movies are concerned. Then suddenly, I turn into a twelve year old boy. A very nerdy twelve year old boy, if you want to get specific. It’s something beyond my control. I become ridiculously excited whenever I see trailers for movies based on comic books or cult science fiction shows. I follow their production progress on IMDB with the fervor of a religious zealot. I think I may be more interested in Transformers 2: Revenge of The Fallen coming out this summer than my own husband or seven year old son. Yes – I am somebody’s mommy. Wrap your head around that if you dare.
So I watched the new Star Trek movie as part of my Mother’s Day weekend celebration. And instead of instantly signing up for Team Kirk or Team Spock as most people were doing, I found myself drawn to little Chekov. And this in spite his oddly fake-sounding Russian accent – I say oddly because he is actually Russian, so really he could have done so much better. But I won’t hold that against him… he doesn’t ever need to speak.
I’ll admit, I’ve had a thing for Anton Yelchin since he played a disturbed teen who fantasized about killing prostitutes on Criminal Minds. Ahhh, Criminal Minds. Don’t even get me started about Dr. Reid – he used to be a model. Nuff said. Anyway, back to Anton. He is the perfect age – just turned twenty – and also has fabulous bone structure as well as a timeless boyishness with a hint of androgyny that I find irresistible. I swear that’s not as effed up as it sounds… he is of legal age.
Don’t judge me.
Now if you’ll excuse me, Make Me a Supermodel is premiering it’s second season tonight. Speaking of male models… I might just find my new pretend boyfriend there. It’ll be tough to beat out Taylor Fuchs for my affections, but I’m equal opportunity when it comes to boys.
Filed under: Geek Love | Leave a Comment
I am obsessed with the movie Hairspray – the musical, not the John Waters original. Although that’s a fantastic film in its own right. But Michael St. Gerard as Link Larkin didn’t do it for me in quite the same manner, not even as Elvis (Jonathan Rhys Meyers owned as Elvis) or when he was the drama teacher/Brenda’s love interest in Beverly Hills 90210. I mean, it wasn’t like he was Johnny Depp in Crybaby. Ohhhh… Johnny. Yeah, I guess you could say I like to watch movies.
Wow – first post and I’m already digressing. That’s like a new record for me.
I am not ashamed to admit that I have developed a little thing for Zac Efron. Not Troy from High School Musical, mind you… that Zac never caught my attention. Mostly because of the jail term that would be involved. I realize that I’m far too old for him to begin with, but lusting after him while he’s playing a high school boy has too much of a Dateline feel to it for my liking. He was nineteen when those movies started. Technically legal, but morally? At my age? Hmmm.
This blog began not as a tribute to Zac but rather to what he represents. He is a cute boy, yes, but just another in a long line of cute boys I have crushed on or pined for over the years. You will get to know all of them – some are completely predictable, others may surprise you, almost all of them are sure to completely embarass me. And to paraphrase Matthew McConaughey’s character in Dazed and Confused: As I get older, the boys for the most part stay the same age. Twenty-one, to be precise.
21. Such a nice round number. By now, if it wasn’t painfully clear already, you may have guessed why this blog is titled the way it is.
Totally Boy Crazy. Yes… yes, I am.
Filed under: Cougar-tastic, Zac Efron | Leave a Comment