Old Habits Die Hard.

Delio, aka the guy I lust for in the gym, is back. I first saw him back in the club ---since the last time he was there more than three months ago during the Christmas party--- last Holy Tuesday. His sudden re-appearance took me by complete surprise. It was like seeing someone you've long believed to be dead. I really thought that he has cancelled his membership in the gym and that I would never see him again. Yet, there he was.

I immediately recognized Delio from the time that I entered the gym. At the reception, I specifically asked for the key to the locker below Delio's customary locker. It was available and I was handed the key. Delio has already charmed his way into having the same locker being virtually reserved for him by the staff. Curiously, Delio alighted from the bike he was riding and followed me to the changing room. He did not approach me though as he made a turn to the urinals. However, I saw him eyeing me as he made his way out of the men's room.

To my credit, I did not much mind Delio. I just went about my workout agenda for the night and did not as much as glanced at his direction. I did not notice him leave the gym.
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Before I write another entry that I have exorcised (Exorcised, November 07, 2007) the ghost of Delio in my unpure thoughts, the events of last Friday has once again put my heart and mind into a spin.

When I went to the gym Friday night, Delio was using a cardio machine called wave. I knew that he had just arrived at the gym because he would always start his workout with a fifteen or twenty-minute cardio. After that, he would do weights, ab exercises and several stretchings in between. His cardio of choice is riding the bike. He rarely used the wave or the treadmill.

I got changed and then proceeded to the gym floor ready to sweat the night. My preferred treadmills were both occupied (the ones strategically placed to offer a great view of the traffic below and the city lights above) and so I resolved to use the bike to start my workout. I have already mounted the bike when I noticed that Delio's wave machine was right in front of my bike. I noticed that he was already slowing down at fifteen minutes but afterwards he set the machine into another thirty minutes.

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The twenty minutes that I spent on the bike was a period of physical and mental exhaustion. Our respective physical positions gave me a great view of Delio's bulbous butt as he semi-danced on the wave machine. Delio was wearing a fitted white sando and his favorite red shorts. I could not help but admire the v-shape that his back makes from his broad shoulders to his waist. I could not help but imagine him on top of me, in missionary position, my hands gripping him by the waist as he rams inside me and his pelvis makes the thrusting movements that rocked my world. I could not help but, on my mind, grab his full ass and ram it harder into me. I could not help but thirst for each drop of sweat that glistened on his shoulder. I could not help but imagine how its salty taste would wash away my thirst.

My mind was all fucked up. I could not concentrate on what I was doing. Thankfully, one of my preferred treadmills was free. However, even then, I found myself glancing on the other end of the floor, reaching for a glimpse of Delio as he grunted and lifted weights.

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Quincy and I met that night and we had dinner at Ebisu, a Japanese resto. Even with Quincy squinting his sparkly eyes in front of me, I could not wipe the image of Delio on the wave machine and how I much I wanted ---really wanted--- him there and then. While trying to keep up with Quincy's story of how his team is practicing with and adjusting to their new import I asked myself: Where was Delio when I was having problems with Quincy? Why did he have to return now when I have once again ---at least for the past week--- began seeing Quincy?

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As I previously wrote, I terribly missed Delio last January. I was having problems with Quincy and was craving for a rebound guy (to that, I must admit). At that time I had even resolved to ask Delio out. I even thought of inviting him to the Maroon 5 concert. But he was nowhere to be found.

Now it's torture. Iwant things between Quincy and me to work. But Delio, to me, is such a temptation. The only way I know to triumph over temptation is to give in. What good would that do me?

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[Ordinarily I would have photos of actor Jonathan Rhys Meyers to accompany blogs about Delio, a tribute to how they look alike. But I got these pics of Brazilian model Edilson Nascimento fresh from the web and these locker and shower room pictures kinda remind me of how I would be teased by Delio's dressing and undressing in the gym.]

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Gossip Gay.

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I had just spent most of my waking day browsing through Just Jared (a site devoted to celebrity news, gossip and speculation and paparazzi photos) and downloading pictures of Chace Crawford. Chace is one of the new guys who caught my ever wandering eyes. I first laid eyes on him in a trailer for Gossip Girl and was eventually able to watch him act on the second time that I got to watch the show. Early this month, I named him as the Fresh Meat fellow in this blog.

It appears that Gossip Girl has resumed production and is now filming the episodes for the next season. Most shows are back at work, in fact, after an agreement has been met to end the writer's strike that forced most show to go off air or show re-runs. G-Girl made such as splash in the first season that the paparazzi have now found it worthwhile to post themselves within the vicinities of the shooting location and take unguarded photos of the show's young stars.

G-Girl is the The O.C. of the late part of this decade. Josh Schwartz, the creator of the show that launched the careers of Adam Brody and Rachel Bilson and showed us that Peter Gallagher is still a watchable talent, is the same force behind this new hit show. Millions tune in every week to watch the misadventures of privileged young Americans as they cope with the dramas of family, money, sex and school. It is being shown in Manila via ETC.

Generally, I find the women in G-Girl as too bland and uni-dimensional. None of them appeals to me as of the moment. Maybe they'll grow on me like Transformers' Megan Fox. The one member of the cast who caused me to glue in to an entire episode was Chace Crawford. The camera loves him and I like him.

I think the pictures here pretty much themselves present the arguments of why I like Chace. The boyish charm, of course, is foremost of them all. I have a tendency to compensate for ---and continue to pine for--- all those hot teenagers I had a crush on but never had in high school. He he.

One source of both disappointment and hope that I got from Just Jared is the rumor that Chace is gay. This piece of gossip is making the rounds of celebrity and gay blogs. Speculation began when photos of Chace and JC Chasez (formerly of N Sync) sharing a cabana surfaced. Their friendship is not a secret. They have been photographed before: partying, shopping and welcoming the new year. Perhaps a cabana is the new gay bar.

Poor Chace is now caught in this issue. Even his relationship with American Idol Carrie Underwood was not enough to save him from the gay rumor. JC has issued statements denying any gay innuendo and maintaining that he is a straight man entitled to have straight friends.

Nice.

If you ask me, I think JC is gay but Chace isn't. And also it is either Chace doesn't know or suspect that JC is gay or that he doesn't care if his friend is gay. And now, sadly, Chace is being used a stint. He has a career but JC doesn't. JC is using his unwitting friend in order to remain in the spotlight. American media, after all, has this penchant for celebrating mediocrity.

I went to a DVD market yesterday to look for DVDs of the first season of G-Girl. The show airs on a week night and I am unable to follow the episodes. During its timeslot, I am usually still in the office or at the gym. The only shows I get to watch at night are American Idol and The Late Show with David Letterman. It isn't available on DVD yet.

Gay or not, I think Chace is one whose career I'll continue to follow with gusto. He strikes me as an easily likable guy. He is doing a good job in G-Girl and I think he'll be able to do much more in his young career. Another movie will not be far in the horizon. This time, I hope he'll make more impact on the audience. I hardly noticed or cared for him in The Covenant.

-----oOo-----

Imperative! I am still experiencing problems with my blog and am unable to update the features on my margin/lay-out. Hence my Now Reading and In Tune portions do not reflect the book I am now reading and the CD that is repeatedly playing on my music players. The latter shows that I am still listening to Josh Groban's holiday album. How embarassing.

Well, for my future reference, I am making it on record that I have finished reading Salman Rushdie's Shalimar the Clown. I have started reading my third book for the year, Peace Breaks Out by John Knowles.

I also bought a copy of Boyz II Men's latest album, Motown (A Journey Through Hitsville USA). My favorite tracks are It's the Same Old Song/Reach Out, Mercy Mercy Me, The Tracks of My Tears and Easy.

I met an old classmate in court yesterday and he told me that he saw me during traffic, driving and singing. I replied that I must have been howling to the tunes of The Tracks of My Tears. Here is the chorus, which I hope I got right:

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So take a good look at my face

You'll see the smile looks out of place

If you look closer it's easy to trace

The track of my tears

How true.

-----oOo-----

How is Chace taking the gay gossip? So far he has not issued any statement reacting to the speculation.

By the photo above he seems unperturbed. Life goes on.

By the photo below he seems to be cool about it.

That's right, Chace. Fuck the gossip and live your life.

Or fuck me. I promise, there will be no pictures. He he.

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To Bi For 28: Cristine Reyes.

Just bought a 2007 issue of the local FHM with seductress Cristine Reyes on the cover. I have been intending to buy a copy since it came out (I think August or September) but I am such a cheapskate that I waited for it to go on sale before buying. Last Monday, I finally got my copy at half its original price. He he.

As I wrote before, I rarely buy FHM. I think the last time I bought a copy was when Cindy Kurleto was on the cover. That was a long way back. Maybe, at least five years ago. Or six, as I was still in law school at that time. First, because I am more into nice girls with Catholic-school backgrounds. Second, because I can always borrow or leaf through a copy that my friends buy. And third, the articles are uninteresting, lame and dumb. So, I have to really, really like the actress or model featured for me to buy. Is KC Concepcion posing yet?

I think the magazine hit a jackpot when it was finally able to convince Cristine to pose for them. According to the write-up, it took them three years of waiting and convincing before the young actress gave her precious nod.

There are a lot of young actresses out there marketing themselves as sexy. If you ask me, Cristine seems to be the only legitimate one who can lay claim to such a tag. She is smokingly sexy.

One thing that Cristine definitely has going for her is the fact that her au naturelle. At least, I think her boobies are natural and nothing on her face has been repaired. She entered showbiz when she was only fifteen years old and all the physical changes that happened to her seems to be the natural product of post-puberty that unfolded before our watchful eyes. Nothing enhanced by a scalpel or a fat vacuum.

One thing that Cristing doesn't have going for her is talent. What she has in boobies, she lacks in talent. I have a crush on this girl (Need I say that here?) and whenever I see her on TV, I watch her and give her a chance. I have given her a thousand chances yet my verdict remains that she can't act, can't sing, can't dance, can't host. So what is she doing in showbusiness? Playing pretty, which is something I make no complaints about.

Her lack of talent is acknowledged in the industry. She has been in the business for three years and except for those periodic guestings on TV her career has gone nowhere. She doesn't even have a regular show! She has been left behind by her contemporaries.

The decision to go daring and sexy may have been an acknowledgment on the part of this young girl that her career is in nowhereland and that she has nothing to offer the audience but her very beautiful face and curvaceous body. Again, I am not complaining. At least, Cristine is intelligent and humble enough to admit that she has a problem, be able to identify her problem and do something about it. It is a right step in the right direction.

When Cristine made the decision to pose for FHM, it was met with much hoopla and fanfare. It was obvious from the reaction of the people that FHM and I were not the only ones praying for Cristine to shed her clothes and wear nothing but lingerie in front of the camera. Thousands of other Filipinos were salivating to see her in skimpier outfits. Fanning the fire, FHM even began talk of a possible rivalry between Cristine and her fellow Starstruck alumna, Katrina Halili. As it turned out, it was just a gimick to sell another FHM special in which both young hotties appeared. In the war between Katrina and Cristine, FHM won. He he.

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White and Naked.

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I am still in the thick of writing the sexual adventures I had in Boracay. I have been composing the first narrative-reminiscence in the last ten days and still haven't finished. Problem is there are still a lot things I want to write in this journal. There are To Bi Fors, Must Blows, Guilty Pleasures and SpeciMens I have to update or add to. The pendency of the sexual accounts is stalling the progress of my other entries.

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What I want, when I am finally done with the narratives, is to have them as headlines in my blog (that is, to have them as top entries or stories for a long while). My fear is that I will lose momentum if I don't finish the entries immediately. There ares simply a lot of work in the office and the mere thought of them is enough to overwhelm and tire me. There is very little energy left to write. Just last night, I came home in the wee hours of the morning to finish the pleadings necessary for the new case that will be argued in the very morning that I just hit my bed for the much deserved sleep.

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So many entries, so little time. My e-mail inbox is overwhelming with attachments of photos of naked and semi-naked men and women. I want to paste them all in my blog so that I could keep track on them. Now and then I also get to cross paths with photos of naked and semi-naked men and women. They are interesting enough to warrant space in my journal.

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Like this afternoon ---or more accurately, yesterday afternoon as I am writing this blog belatedly--- I got this naked black and white pictures of Chad White. It is Chad White. I have featured him as a Must Blow guy (No. 36), bought multiple copies of his Out premiere and almost named him as Man of the Year for 2008. Of course, I wanted to feature the pics in my blog!!!
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Of course I have previously seen (and posted) several photos of Chad teasefully and tastefully naked. However, none of them compares to how raw these black and white pics are. The two shots just have Chad on a bare background. The front shot has his hands covering his pubic area. The back shot has his tight ass fully exposed. What is there to not like or rave about? They are like audition or portfolio pictures.

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The photos, though, are a little too dark and so I have taken the liberty of enhancing them by simply adding some light or brightness. It is the only change I made. Chad, after all, does not require any computer-generated enhancement. Here are the results:

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Aren't his abs more visible? Look at his navel. Imagine my tongue circling it and then sliding down to trace the veins on his taut waist and tangling with his rich pubic hair.

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And look at his ass. And take a long hard look at his back. How I'd make my tongue lick each line and muscle, trace each bump and arc. I'd bite that ass, too!

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Need more light to admire Chad's superhuman back? Let there be!!!!!

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-----oOo-----

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I am having another problem with my blog. I am unable to update the features on the margin of the blog, like the list of Must Blow guys, adding a new Hotshot photo, updating my reading material trace or adding to the list of weblinks. Everytime I click the settings button, the computer always leads to an error. I hope to get this remedied immediately.

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Copy and related rights to photographs and digital images appearing herein pertain to their respective authors, photographers and copyright owners. No commercial purpose or financial gain is intended by their inclusion in this blog. All accompanying texts are protected by copyright and related intellectual property laws in favor of saturdayconfessions.

Must Blow 51: Jonathan Rhys Meyers.

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Today is Easter Tuesday and it is a start of new life for me. A turn of a new chapter in the book that I am living. An opportunity for a personal rebirth or reinvention. I had quite a restful and reflective Holy Week. As was my custom, I did not go out of town. The family just stayed in the city and we, in our own ways, went to church to participate in its activities.

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I have my own set of activities during the Holy Week. Though it is just the same as any other good Catholic ---doing visita iglesia, hearing mass, renewing my baptismal vows during Easter vigil mass--- I prefer to do them with my old friends, the same one I've had since I was twelve years old. It is sort of automatic among us, even if some of the guys are already married, we set aside the Holy Week to hold a solemn reunion. Wives, girlfriends and partners are welcome, but discouraged. This year, after we heard the vigil mass, we went to a restaurant and had a festive dinner until two o' clock in the morning. Afterwards, we transferred to the nearest Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf and we did not part ways until the shop closed at five thirty in the morning.

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Enter Quincy. A funny thing happened during Holy Thursday. I was the first among my friends to get to church. Since the mass was already starting and my friends weren't in yet, I picked a pew of my choice. I put my phones in silent mode. Even if I felt them vibrate in pockets, I ignored them. After all, what call or message could I possibly receive during that hour that is more important than that which comes from God? Certainly, it was just my friends inquiring whether I was at the church already and where I was seated.

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Not a few minutes after, in comes Quincy with his whole family ---father, mother, two sisters. One sister even had a boyfriend in tow (who was hot, by the way). Quincy is a towering 6'4" tall so he was easily recognizable when he got into my line of vision. And I was also eagerly waiting for my friends so I glanced at the doors once in a while.

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The church was almost full but there were only two other people occupying my row. Quincy's dad was the one who saw the free seats just beside me and so he herded his family to my pew.

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I already had a smile on my face when I realized where Quincy's family was heading. Oh my god, here we go again, I told myself. I knew that this could happen. After all, it was at church that I first spotted Quincy and asked myself: What is a professional basketball player, mid-twenties, who once made it to Cosmo's 69 hottest bachelors, doing still hearing mass with his family? I smelled something fishy then. And also we, by chance, saw each other in the same church last February when we attended the same mass. Around that time I was ignoring his calls and texts so we sort of ignored each other.

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There wasn't enough space to accommodate the whole lot of them. Quincy's mom, dad and youngest sister (in this order) walked past me and sat to my left. Quincy, older sister and boyfriend stood on the right part of the church, a few steps from the confessional. When Quincy's dad motioned that there was space for one more, Quincy joined in. It was only when he was few steps away that he recognized me. My smile was getting wider as he got closer, so Quincy might have known how funny I thought the situation was. When our eyes met, he said "Hoy." (or was it Uuuy!) and then he sat right next to me.

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We acknowledged each other's presence and after a few minutes that I couldn't contain myself, I whispered to Quincy, Isn't this wierd? During the homily, I would lean over and whisper to Quincy my comments on the priest's sermon and Quincy, in turn, would utter his assent or dissent.

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After mass, Quincy introduced me to his family as his friend. "Fuckbuddy" may have sounded too scandalous or sacrilegous to say inside a church. "Potential boyfriend" may have motivated Quincy's father to commit sins of his own there and then.

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I did not think that Quincy had any other choice but to introduce me. After all, we were whispering and snickering throughout. His parents would have asked about it if Quincy did not come clean. His mother asked me how it is that we became friends and I just answered vaguely that we had mutual friends and Quincy once consulted me, as a lawyer, to review his professional contracts. Hearing the word "lawyer" sort of put an end to any questioning, replaced by parental approval.

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That wasn't the end of things. Some of my friends were seated just a few pews behind mine and they already located me during mass. They approached me and I also introduced Quincy to them. One friend asked me afterwards how I knew Quincy and I said that a client once referred him to me and Quincy evolved from a client to a friend (somehow).

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Blowing JRM. Today's entry was supposed to be about Jonathan Rhys Meyers, today's Must Blow guy. I was supposed to write about how sexy I find him and all the other things that make me admire him. I was supposed to write only a few words about my Holy Week and mention briefly the encounter with Quincy's family. The blog went out of hand, but in a good way. I hope.

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I have already named fifty guys in my Must Blow list (David Beckham, the "Golden Balls" of international football, was my Golden Blow). In starting my list of another fifty, I really tried to choose a special guy to usher the new round. I couldn't have chosen any other guy but JRM.
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Hollywood is a haven for goodlooking men. But physical beauty does not not necessarily translate to sexiness. And JRM, while not nearly the most handsome guy in Hollywood at this time, is definitely the sexiest in the roster of new actors. He simply exudes raw sexuality that appeals to people of all sexes. I think that is reflected in the films that he has done, like Velvet Goldmine and The Tudors. Even Mission Impossible III capitalized on his sex appeal by the number of close-up shots of JRM's face. Even if the film starred pretty boy Tom Cruise JRM was the real eye candy in that film.
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JRM is also my Hollywood boyfriend of the moment. I have a copy of Details' holiday issue with him on the cover lying on the passenger seat of my car. In the middle of traffic, I just look over at the cover. In my mind, I am kissing JRM's sweet lips and tearing off his v-neck shirt. Isn't that a good way of conquering stress on the road?
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-----oOo-----

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A New Model. Lusting over male models is one of my secret hobbies. Among the emerging kings of the catwalk and fashion pages, Chad White, Jamie Dornan and Nicholas Lemons are my favorites. Tyler Lough, a new model yet to distinguish himself in this easiest of professions is also in my elite list.

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Some weeks ago, I had a new discovery in the name of Jeremy Santucci. He is definitely one hot papa. I love the abs and the intense gaze he has in these pictures. And of course, how I'd love to peel off that blue trunks and free that huge cock he has in there.

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I hope the bulge is for real.

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2007 Awards in Literature.

For the year 2007, I read a total of twenty four (24) books. This is a great improvement of twenty percent (20%) from my reading output for the previous year, in which I finished only twenty (20) books.

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From the lot of two dozen books ---which is an exceptional mixture of fiction and non-fiction, works from as foreign as Portugal and Indonesia, India and Hogwarts, to places as familiar as the Philippines and Narnia, and authors as beloved as Salman Rushdie and Paul Auster to new discoveries as Eric Gamalinda, Jose Saramago, James Ellroy and Elie Wiesel--- here are the best of them.

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I have been giving out awards for my readings since 1993 and this is now my fifteenth year of giving out the awards.

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Book of the Year: MY SAD REPUBLIC by Eric Gamalinda

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Silver Plate: THE END OF THE AFFAIR by Graham Greene

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Bronze Plate: SATURDAY by Ian McEwan

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---------------oOo---------------

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Circle of Excellence:

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1. The Double - Jose Saramago

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2. All That is Gone - Pramoedya Ananta Toer

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3. The Bell Jar - Sylvia Plath
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---------------oOo---------------

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Laurel in Non-Fiction: Hemingway vs. Fitzgerald: The Rise and Fall of a Literary Friendship by Scott Donaldson

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Author of the Year: IAN McEWAN

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New Writer of the Year: ERIC GAMALINDA

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---------------oOo---------------

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Shortlist:

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1. Anita Brookner - Incidents in the Rue Laugier

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2. C.S. Lewis - The Last Battle

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3. Elie Wiesel - The Judges

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---------------oOo--------------

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Hugo Prize for Literature: Harper Lee

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This is only the second time that a Filipino work was named Book of the Year. The first and only time was when Edgar Reyes' Laro sa Baga was so honored. Harper Lee is also only second woman to win the Hugo Prize. Lualhati Bautista took the honours a few years ago.

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First-read authors dominated the awards this year, such as Gamalinda, Saramago, Toer, Plath, Brookner and Wiesel. On the other hand, The End of the Affair is only my second Greene book, after The Ministry of Fear.

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So far this year I have finished two books. These are Waiting for the Barbarians by JM Coetzee and Shalimar the Clown by Salman Rushdie. I have already read the first fifty pages of Peace Breaks Out by John Knowles.

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I still have about eighty (80) unread books in my shelf. I don't think I will stop reading pocketbooks and hardbounds even with the emergence, proliferation and dominance of other media forms. If at all, the printed work has proved to be a fertile ground of fresh material for the other media. This year, McEwan's Atonement (a Bronze Plate winner in my world) was made into an Oscar-nominated film. Next year, movie audiences will be treated to Disgrace and Love in the Time of Cholera, both based on the works of Noble Prize winners J.M. Coetzee and Gabriel Garcia Marquez.

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Guilty Pleasure: AI's Michael Johns.
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A few blogs ago I complained about the fact that I have been unable to watch American Idol as much as I wanted to. I have been a fan of the show ever since the third season, when I was blown away by the talents of Fantasia Barrino and Diana Digarmo. The show is a great showcase of vocal talents. Perhaps, the finest hours of television.

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Oddly, though I have always prided myself as a good judge of musical talent, I have only predicted the winner only once (Carrie Underwood, Season 4). My other bets, Paris Bennett and Chris Daughtry (Season 5) and Melinda Doolittle (Season 6) did not even make it to the finales. My nephew, who was only nine at that time, predicted Taylor Hicks as the eventual winner of Season 5 and rooted for Blake Lewis in the last season. He has turned out to have a better ear than me, considering his percentages. Blake, at least, made it to the final two.

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Someone omnipotent may have been reading my blog. After publishing my post on What I am Not Doing or Having (February 21) and complaining about the episodes I missed I was able to watch a string of AI episodes, namely the performance nights in the last three weeks. And it was just about the right time to watch the show religiously because the contest is down to its last sixteen or so contestants. Most of the bad eggs are gone and what are left are the truly talented ones.

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Like most fans of the show, I have picked myself a favorite. His name is Michael Johns, the rocker who hails from Australia. I can only say that he is my favorite, not necessarily the one I pray to win the title. Like most Filipinos, I am hoping that Ramielle Malubay would bring home the crown. Jasmine Trias, another Filipino, came so close in season three but had to bow out to the superior talents of Fantasia and Digarmo.

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Everybody who likes Johns allude to his performance of Queen's Bohemian Rhapsody way back during Hollywood week. Unfortunately, I was not able to watch that performance. To me, Johns's best performance was when he rocked out to Light My Fire (I am not even sure that is the title of the track). He sang it during one of the Top 24 elimination nights. Ever since then, I knew this guy has a great potential as a music performer and superstar.

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As the judges repeatedly reminded Johns, he is a great singer but he sometimes isn't able to make a spectacular performance. As a result, his performances turn pale in comparison with the strong showings of David Cook, David Archuleta and Brooke White. In the last two performance nights, Johns gave stirring renditions of the Beatles' A Day in the Life and Across the Universe but high praise really had to be reserved for Cook's Eleanor Rigby, White's Let It Be and Archuleta's The Long and Winding Road. Even Jason Castro's Michelle has turned out to be more memorable, even though the guy only sauntered on the stage to get enough female votes to get him to the next round.

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I still maintain that Johns has enough charisma and magic to be able to go long in the competition. The guy is so sexy, extremely sexy in fact, that I always feel something stir in me whenever I hear him sing. It is a physiological response that is not awakened no matter how well Cook, Castro or Archuleta perform.

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Johns has the looks of what the Spanish call muy simpatico. He easily wins other people's friendship or affection. And the geuine humility that he affects each telecast only makes him more likable.

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-----oOo-----

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How do you know you've made it as a celebrity? By having your paparazzi photo posted on some entertainment blog.

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Just earlier today, while preparing this blog, I got this pic of Michael Johns from JustJared.com, one of the more popular celebrity blog. Other celebrities ward off photographers by wagging a dirty finger. In here, Johns gives them some tongue lashing.

-----oOo-----

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As I said before, there was one other bonafide hunk who made it to AI's top 24. And as I predicted he, Luke Menard, will be booted out early in the competition.

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There are only as much female voters who would vote exclusively on the basis of looks. Most of them are teenagers who have already pledged their virginities to Archuleta and Castro. Menard had to compete with Johns for the votes of women over 20. This more discerning demographic put in talent as a factor in their choices. I even bet some of them deflected when news came out that David Hernandez is a stripper.

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But I have a feeling that it isn't the last of Menard. I think some producer will sign him up to appear on a sitcom.

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[Icon 02] Whitney Houston.

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I am a child of the 80s. I grew up in that era when pop music ruled the airwaves and people sang along as the hits played on the radio. While punk and rock still filled the music landscape, it is no question that the decade belonged to the trio of Michael Jackson, Madonna and Whitney Houston.

The three music artists are very much different in their style. While Michale broke away from Jackson Five and popularized his creepy dance moves to the tune of Thriller and Madonna tested the moral boundaries with songs like Papa Don't Preach and Like a Virgin, Whitney was belting it out with All at Once and the anthem-like Greatest Love of All.

The genre was called pop music because, well, it was popular. Almost anyone with a mic and the melody playing in the background could sing the songs. It was also around this time that karaoke crossed the shores of Japan and became popular in the country. Minus-1 tapes were also in vogue. So it was not uncommon to hear ten versions of a Madonna song while one walks a street and passes by ten houses, all equipped with the unignorable karaoke or minus-1 cassette.

I remember myself entertaining members of my mother's clan during gatherings singing to my heart's content One Moment in Time, the theme from the 1988 Olympics. I even have one photo preserved in my album, my mouth was wide open as I sang "When all of my dreams are a heartbeat away...". It was shameless. I was shameless.

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I was between the ages of nine to eleven when my taste for pop music started. Iwas influenced, in part, by my sister who aspired to become a professional singer herself. She was enrolled in a voice school and she would sometimes do her rehearsals at home. Some mornings I would wake up to the blaring sound of Cyndi Lauper or the sweet voice of Tiffany. Among all the artists that my sister aimed to emulate, it was Whitney who made a lasting impression on me.

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I did not have money at that time and whatever cash my mother would spare me I would rather spend on toys and candies. Consequently, I had to wait for the radio stations to play Whitney's songs or play my sister's tapes to be able hear Whitney's powerful and commanding voice.

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When I was in high school, I bought my very first Whitney Houston album. It was the soundtrack to The Bodyguard, her movie with the debonair Kevin Costner (SpeciMen 05). As it turned out, I was one of the millions who made it the bestselling soundtrack album of all time.

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I must have played side A of the album at least three times each day. I played only this side because it contains all the six Whitney tracks. The other side contains the songs of the other artists featured in the movie. (It would take me about three years before I finally appreciated S.O.U.L. System's Lovely Day.) After that, I had memorized by heart not only the lyrics to I Will Always Love You, I Have Nothing, Jesus Loves Me, Run to You, I'm Every Woman and Queen of the Night but also the nuances of Whitney's renditions that made these songs exceptional.

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Since then I have been able to purchase her succeeding albums, including the soundtracks to Waiting to Exhale (one of my favorite collaborations), The Preacher's Wife, One Wish (The Holiday Album), My Love is Your Love, Just Whitney, and back copies of I'm Your Baby Tonight, Whitney and Whitney Houston. Each of them is a gem.

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Like most of her fans, I rued the fact that Whitney married Bobby Brown. I had no prejudice, however, at the start of the relationship. It was only after, when Whitney succumbed to a life of illegal drugs that i felt bad. For her and for me. Whitney became an unreliable artist. Even when the songs in The Bodyguard were nominated in the Oscar, the producers of the award show replaced her with Natalie Cole for fear that she will become a production liability. News also proliferated that she became the hindrance to the completion of her own solo albums.
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But no one sang a song the way Whitney did. No one even has a voice like she has. So whenever I have the opportunity, I relish hearing her songs and her voices. I give myself pause whenever an old video is played on MTV. I especially like her in When You Believe, wherein she shows Mariah Carey who between them is the real queen of soul and pop music. While Mariah strained to hit the high notes, Whitney was effortless.
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There is an ongoing rumor that she and producer Clive Davis of Arista are working on a new album. Rumor has it too that Whitney is causing the delay. Whatever, I am sure that I will be purchasing the album once it hits record stores. No matter what type of songs are in the album ---even if they be rap or grunge--- I am quite certain that Whitney would pepper it with brilliance and dash it with panache. After all, nobody sings the way she does.

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Fresh Meat 03: Chace Crawford.

Ever since ETC moved to basic TV, I have been sufficiently teased by the trailer of Gossip Girl. I have a history of patronizing juvenile dramas. In my teens I religiously watched Beverly Hills 90210. I have the original DVD sets of the first three seasons of The O.C. as well as the sophomore year of One Tree Hill. The O.C. was pulled from the air more than a year ago and it seems that GGirl ---I think that is how fans refer to the show--- is the nearest thing to a disciple/substitute.

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One other reason why I am very eager for GGirl to premiere is that I know it stars Chace Crawford. Who is Chace Crawford? I hardly know anything about the guy except that some pictures of him recently surfaced in the internet. The photos are interesting because the guy is beautiful and shirtless. The only other thing I know about him is that he also starred in the teen vampire movie The Covenant with yesterday's blog subject, Taylor Kitsch (Must Blow 48, Mr February). He is one of the vampires to whom I'll willingly offer my neck. I'll let him suck my blood only after he lets me suck his cock, of course. He he.

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Last night I had the very first opportunity to watch an episode of GGirl. I was in the gym last night, on the treadmill as usual, when the show started. Ever since coming back from Boracay shedding off the three pounds that I gained during my four days of vacation is high up in my agenda. So it is cardio, cardio, yoga and cardio for me.

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Anyway, back to GGirl and Chace. I lost my earphone a two weeks ago and so could only watch the show on my screen but not hear the dialogue. I had to take a break and then go to the reception desk to borrow an extra pair of earphones. So, I got to tune in only after about 20 minutes of the show have gone.

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Anwyay, back to GGirl and Chace. Really.

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One of the pleasant surprises on the show is Matthew Settle, who plays father to one (or two) of the teenagers in the show. I have a crush on Settle way back when he was in Band of Brothers. I was briefly happy when he was in Brothers and Sisters, only to be later disappointed when Rob Lowe came in as the new love interest of Kitty Walker. Settle is still hot. I wanted him to remove the shirt he was wearing on the scene so that I could have a glimpse of his broad and firm chest. Haaay. I'm melting with the thought.....

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To my utter disappointment, the show started and ended without even a peep on the handsome face of Chace. What??!! I thought he plays a major role in the show. How come an episode went by without even a shadow of him being shown on the camera? Is this like Ian Somerhalder on Lost, part 2? Is this another disgraceful and unjustifiable underusage of a handsome young actor? Should I brace myself for this?

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I guess the episode I saw is one of the early episodes in the series and the season. Maybe the characters are slowly being introduced to the viewers and it isn't Chace's turn yet. Maybe when he gets in the scene he will make a splash. I resolved to watch the next few episodes and let the show slowly unravel. Chace is so pretty he is very much worth the wait.

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-----oOo-----

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This is what I like best about blogging. I get to gush about people and shows that otherwise I would not have the opportunity to do so. Will I ever admit to my friends, officemates or fellow lawyers that I watch Gossip Girl? How would the conversation start: Pare, cute ni Chace Crawford, no? Hehe.

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I noticed, too, that for two straight days I blogged about two guys who were in The Covenant. The young hunk supposedly launched in that film is Steven Strait. Where is he now?

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-----oOo-----
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American television, of course, does not have a monopoly of cute young guys. Philippine TV has its own stock of delectable young men to offer. One of them is Bruno Folster. This morning I found his pictures in a new photoblog that I just discovered here in blogspot. I will feature them later so as not to steal Chace's thunder.

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I rarely see Bruno on television. With a face and body like that, one can't help but ask why such is the case.

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Copy and related rights to photographs and digital images appearing herein pertain to their respective authors, photographers and copyright owners. No commercial purpose or financial gain is intended by their inclusion in this blog. All accompanying texts are protected by copyright and related intellectual property laws in favor of saturdayconfessions.