My Life as a List

Ten People to Spend Forever With.

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I have always wanted to include in this blog a feature of lists. I enjoy making lists ---top ten favorite books, favorite actors of all time, top ten moments in my life, twenty reasons not to get married, etc. For some reason, I never got to publish a list in this blog, and I have been writing here for more than two years.

Last night, while I was breaking sweat on the treadmill, a profound question suddenly sprung to my mind: If God tells me I can spend forever with ten people, who would I choose to spend it with? Difficult question, isn't it?

Four people were quick to be included in my list: my mom, my nephews DJ and Gabe, and Leslie. Leslie is simply the love of my life and though I have serious reservations about marriage and commitment, I would grab at any opportunity to always have her by my side and in my life. And no one and nothing else in this world makes me happier, more fulfilled or more loved than my two nephews. They are like mini-mes.

Filling up the other six spots was quite difficult. The first four are in the list because I love them immensely and more than anything in the world. What would be a good criteria for the other six? Simply, that they would be good companions for a lifetime of relationships, companionships and conversations. I slept over the idea and came up with the final list this morning.

Ten People to Spend Forever With:

1. My Mom

2. My nephew, DJ

3. My nephew, Gabe

4. My ex-girlfriend, Leslie

5. My cousin, Sheryl

6. My friend, Seph

7. My idol, Alvin Patrimonio

8. My forever crush, Mark Wahlberg

9. The girl of my dreams, Kate Hudson

10. My favorite writer alive, JD Salinger.

I included my cousin Sheryl because we can talk for hours and hours without noticing the time passing by. The same is true with Seph, we can stay at Starbucks or Coffee Bean until six o'clock in the morning just updating each other on what is new and reminiscing our adolescent experiences.

On the other hand, Alvin Patrimonio is my consummate idol. I have a lot of questions for him and I am sure even forever is not enough to pry those answers from this shy sports icon. I have a lot of favorite writers, but among those alive the one I'd want to ask about his philosophy and technique in writing is JD Salinger. Plus, the guy is a recluse so having him in my Island of Forever will not be a hassle.

And what is a lifetime of seclusion without entertainment? And so I am inviting my man-crush Mark Wahlberg and dream girl Kate Hudson from Hollywood. I had a real difficulty choosing between Kate and Rachel Bilson but since her sense of humor and down to earth nature seems more genuine, I chose the former.

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The Captain Goofs in MySpace.

.I opened my MySpace account this morning to update my account, add new friends and read the message bulletin. After I was done, I loitered around the site and visited the profiles of people who are not actually in my network. I stopped by the page of Alvin Patrimonio. He is one celebrity who periodically updates his profile.

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Some of the new additions to his page are his new photos. I downloaded these, which show the 4-time MVP winner goofing and clowning in front of the camera. With him is his first daughter, Christine, who is in training in Spain to become a professional tennis player. They appear to be having dinner in some restaurant.

The poses are hardly funny. Still, they provide a refreshing view to the private life of the very private basketball legend.

I have often read that Alvin, indeed, has a funny side to his very serious public persona. This manifests in the locker room, when he tries to lighten the mood of an otherwise very tense team. He also reportedly plays pranks with his kids.

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Alvin's team, Purefoods, is presently 1-1 against Red Bull in their ongoing semifinals series.

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-----oOo-----

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Still in MySpace, I clicked from Alvin's profile to that of his son, Angelo. The physical resemblance between father and son is striking. Very striking. I can still recall how Alvin looked like when he entered the pro league in 1988. His son, Angelo, now looks exactly like him. Memories.

And it seems that the similarities between father and son do not stop at their physical attributes. See here a photo of the young Angelo playing a fool in front of the camera, just like his dad in the pics above.

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It is safe to say, by now, though, that Angelo did not inherit his father's athletic prowess. He has ventured into basketball and tennis without much success. Instead, he is presently giving showbusiness a chance and he appears in a weekly teeny-bopper TV show.

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Alvin also had some success in showbusiness enough to earn an entry in imdb. However, he put a halt to accepting movie and TV projects in order to concentrate on his basketball career.

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-----oOo-----

To close today's entry I am posting a pic that I got from a gay blog just yesterday. I don't know whether I like this picture or not. I am torn between labelling it "sexy" or "ridiculous". The viking wannabe has a great ripped body and that cock is juicily inviting. And yet the mask and the pants are repulsive.

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Saturday Makeover, Part II.
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Out with old and in with the new is still the theme of today's blog. .

In my first three entries for the year, I introduced a new regular feature, [Icons] (with Magic Johnson as the first honoree), crowned a new woman of the year in the person of Jessica Alba and pimped my new TV hero, Taylor Kitsch (Must Blow 48) of Friday Night Lights.

Over the first week of 2008, I also slowly updated the homepage of my personal journal. I posted a new HOTSHOT photo of an all-naked jock clutching the head of his mate to cover his pelvic region. Though I am hardly convinced that the cute jock is getting head, it is one of the most sensual photos I downloaded recently.

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My reading list has also been updated. My newest bedside book is Waiting for the Barbarians by Nobel winner JM Coetzee. My present leisure magazines are GQ issues of June 2007 (with Jessica Alba on the cover) and August 2007 (with Matt Damon).
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In the JUST SEEN portion of my homepage margin, I pasted the posters of three movies I saw over the holiday break, with brief reviews consisting of less than twenty words for each. Below are some of the reviews.

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United 93. Gripping, well-acted film. A brilliant achievement by writer and director Paul Greengrass. A must-see film.

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Shooter. Suspenseful. Delivers to make Mark Wahlberg our next action hero.

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Turistas. Everyone planning a vacation should NOT see this. It will scare you.

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I should have added that Josh Duhamel is hot in Turistas, too. There are enough gratuitous shots to make Duhamel fans ecstatic.

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I haven't bought a new CD for the year. My Christmas celebration ended just yesterday, with the feast of the Three Kings and I will only be changing my CD rotation beginning today. Thus, Josh Groban's Noel album remains in my IN TUNE feature. However, I have removed the jackets of Whitney Houston and Barbra Streisand's holiday albums.

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Another new portion in my margin is the list of all Must Blow hunks. This will serve as a quick reference for me. I will not need to search or scroll whenever I want to see who have been featured in this portion of my journal.

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-----oOo-----

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Hooray for Alvin. Purefoods won over Coca Cola last night. With the win, Purefoods earned an outright slot in the semifinals round of the present conference. With just two games remaining in the elimination round, Purefoods is a full three games ahead of its closest rival. Thus, it is assured that at the end of the eliminations, Purefoods will be No. 1 in the team standings.

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My friends are already teasing me about whether they should clear their calendars for when Purefoods make it to the finals. I assured them that should the team make it to the title series, I will again secure tickets for us, at my expense of course.

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I am very happy for Alvin Patrimonio, who now serves as team manager, for this development. I have not stopped supporting my basketball hero even after he retired from active play in 2004.

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[Icon 01] Earvin "Magic" Johnson.
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This is my first blog entry in 2008. I wanted to welcome the new year by introducing a new regular feature in my personal journal. This portion is called Icons and it will highlight people whom I have looked up to as personal heroes, or in some way shaped me, or in any manner contributed to what or how I am now. In some instances, my Icons will take the form of things or events, but still it must have some influence on me as a person. I first conceived of this in November of last year (2007 being but 2 days ago) but held off writing any featurette until this year.

I have already made a preliminary list of about ten great persons that I'd showcase here. It was great to know that the world is not short of great people who are positive influences on other people as myself. I think it is something worth celebrating in a world that is now so unreasonably preoccupied with the faux pas of personalities such as Paris Hilton, Kevin Federline, Lindsay Lohan and the like.

It was quite an impressive list I came up with. The tougher task for me was to pick the first person to inaugurate my Icons roll of honor. It was an excruciating task but I am confident that I made the right choice.

-----oOo-----

Locked in such quagmire, I decided to solve my dilemma by relying on chronology. Among the ten equally deserving people in my list, I have decided to feature first the one I looked up to the earliest. Thus, I present my very first Icon: Earvin "Magic" Johnson.

This is how I remember my first encounter with Magic Johnson -

It was a hot Saturday afternoon of summer in 1987 and I was less than ten years old. It was scorching outside and I was forced to spend my day indoors. I got tired of playing with my GI Joes (which was then only about 5 pieces) and decided to open the television set in my room upstairs. Although I was hoping to catch some cartoons, I knew that my chances were nil. It was Saturday afternoon, as I said, and I was most likely to catch a tearjerker show.

Still, I needed something to spend my idle time on. So I channel-surfed, which back then wasn't an easy task to do. I had to stand from my bed, go to the TV lying on its rack and use the knob to actually switch from one channel to the next. As I flicked from one station to the next, a dazzling image instantly caught my attention: a black man in yellow jersey very ably dribbling a ball, quickly, low, between his legs and then lifting the ball with his right hand and with a flicker of his right hand shot it from his back to his teammate who was running on his left wing. The teammate scored an easy lay-up and there was pandemonium in the audience.

The black guy was, of course, Magic Johnson, it was an NBA game shown in the U.S. some one or two months before and because cable has not hit the country, was broadcasted in the Philippines only then, and it was the first basketball game I have ever enjoyed watching.

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Ten years old and I have never seen a magic trick performed in my presence ever before. I came from a low-middle class family and I have never been invited to a children's party where the celebrator's parents could afford a magician. That afternoon, that NBA game, that pass was the first magic trick I have ever seen in my entire life.
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I stopped my channel surfing and glued in to that game. I was anxious to see more magic. I was eager to see that same black guy get the ball again and perform another trick. Alas, it was already the fourth quarter and the game was nearing its end. There were slamdunks and mad scramble for the ball that followed, but no play was as spectacular as the behind-the-back pass by Magic, whether from him or any other of the players on the court.

I do not now remember the team that the Lakers played against that day. Or whether the Lakers won or lost. What I do distinctly remember is that from then on I religiously set 2 o'clock on Saturday afternoons as NBA watching time. Everytime I opened the TV I prayed to see Magic and the Lakers. It was a series of brief periodic joys and disappointments.

The second thing I remember from that experience is that I decided to pick up the basketball and decided to learn to game. My brother was an avid basketball player, most times he would take his ball with him to play with his friends around the block. We had our own ring in the backyard and I was homebuddy. Shortly, I convinced my mother to buy me my own ball. She complied and bought me one. The brand, as I still remember, was Michael and it was one of my most precious possessions in youth.

Every afternoon, after school and before I even did my assignments, I would play in our backyard for two to four hours straight. I would mime the moves of Magic Johnson. I practiced his behind-the-back passes and wrap-around lay-ups. I convinced myself that I would grow to six feet one 1/2 inches tall and would be the first tall pointguard in the country (pointguards in the pro league then stood between 5'6" to 5'10") just as Magic was the first and most prominent prolific tall pointguard in the NBA. I rehearsed my dribbling, passing, shooting ---all in the style of Magic Johnson as I saw him do on TV. Later on, I made it my dream to be the pointguard tandem of Alvin Patrimonio, just as Magic had Kareem Abdul-Jabbar by his side.

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When I eventually did play basketball with friends and classmates, I was always the designated pointguard. I was quite instinctive in play. My jumpshots were sharp and on target but as pointguard, my priority was always to set up my teammates, find the open person and make the pass. I would only shoot or drive as a last resort. I tried one-on-one plays on offense, with my back behind the board ---just as Magic would do during his match-ups with Larry Bird--- but it was not as effective. I did not get to the height I dreamed of.
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More than mimicking Magic, I imbibed his style of play. I aped his selflessness and never lost my cool during a game. I always considered it at just a game and never bore any grudge against my opponents even though being quite small, I was always elbowed out on rebounds. Win or lose, I was just glad to have played the game. And it never mattered to me how much I scored or how great I looked with the ball in my hand, what kept me going was the teamwork that our team was able to muster and display.

Now I consider myself to have been blest to have the opportunity to watch Magic, Bird and Michael Jordan at the height of NBA's showtime era. It was the best period for the league. Not only were there spectacular plays; the players who made the play were just as great. Something one can't say about the league since John Stockton retired. Today's generation of NBA fanatics are not as blessed to watch the game at its finest.

Until this day, long after Magic Johnson has retired and earned his five NBA championship rings, I still consider him as one of my idols. And whenever I pick up a basketball or actually play the game, I am always reminded of that lazy Saturday afternoon when I first saw magic played before my eyes.

-----oOo-----

Time to Wash My Levi's. As I usher in the new year, my first order of business is to have my Levi's 514 washed. I bought the pair as a Christmas present for myself in 2006. I have worn it about 50 times from December 2006 until December of 2007 but it has never been washed. It is my way of breaking it in and giving it a vintage look.

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After a year of being deprived of soap and water, I think it is time to shove it down our washing machine. Better do it now before it smells funky. There is a very fine line between dressing vintage and looking like a hobo.

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And speaking of the Los Angeles Lakers, one of the best gifts I received during the past Christmas is this Adidas Superstar 1 sneakers with the LA Lakers jersey/logo design. I spent more than a month looking for my size. Luckily, on the eve of Christmas and before the malls were about to close, Leslie (who was doing some last minute shopping and knew I was gaga over this limited edition design) was able to find the size and bought me a pair. She gave me this plus a pink and purple combination necktie that I wore to the office today.

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.

Pimped.
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Woke up early today with a hangover. I accompanied Quincy to a party last night and I think I had quite a lot of Bailey's and Cuervo than I should drink on a Monday evening. Normally, I would not go to a function ---nor get drunk in it--- on a workday but Quincy insisted. It was a quasi-bachelor's party that he and his friends threw for a high school classmate who is getting married this December. The wedding is in Chicago and the groom is leaving tomorrow afternoon, Wednesday. Apparently, the group couldn't get together complete last Saturday or Sunday so the first working day of the week was their last and only chance.

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I have met this bunch of Quincy's friends before. We've played basketball twice and Quincy, who plays professional basketball, is usually the brunt of the other team's defense. Q practically begged me to go. It was an "open" bachelor's party, which meant that the guys could bring dates. So why me? Is he coming out to his friends? Of course not. Q isn't seeing any girl right now and he just didn't want to go there alone. He said that we could just tell his friends that we were somewhere else before the party and he purely at the spur of the moment asked me to join him. That excuse could work.

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Quincy extended me the invitation last Friday, before we went to see We Own the Night. I tried to beg off. I told him that I had to wake up really early on Tuesday since my car had to be off the streets before 7 am due to the color-coding scheme. Evidently, I can't afford to be up all night even if I don't consume alcohol during the party. He offered that I could sleep at his condo after the party so I can save a few minutes from my travel time. Since my most plausible excuse was easily brought down, I had no other means by which to defend myself. I relented.

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The party was held at the function room of a condominium building wherein Dato, one of Q's friends, was renting. And characteristically, since straight males organized the event, food was bad and sparing, and booze was the only thing that came in excess. Oh, and cleavage, too. There were nine of them in the barkada. Two brought their girlfriends, two were with girls they are currently dating, one left his wife at home, one came alone and the last guy brought a male roommate (?). And then there are Quincy and the groom. The two "dating girls" were just as badly and sparingly dressed as the food in the event. They showed too much cleavage that the groom might have thought of them as the strippers in his party.
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We left the gathering a little before 2 a.m. Q, who had only a bottle of beer and a glass of wine drove us (to his) home. Q was a little pissed during the party that some of his friends would keep on asking about his ex, Charina. They broke up November of last year (I do not know when exactly). I pretended to have known and met and Charina. Fact is, I've only seen her in pictures and Q is not quite comfortable talking about her. I made a lot of nodding and smiling and dispensing free legal advice during the party.

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We were both too tired when we got to the condo. The unit is spacious with three bedrooms. There weren't any beds in the other two rooms, though, so I slept in Quincy's room.

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I woke up a little before 5 this morning without knowing where I was. It was the first time that I slept over in Q's condo that at that odd time everything around was foreign to me. Of course, there was also the pang in my head to factor. I slowly reconstructed the events of the evening before until I traced my steps into Q's king sized bed. I had the urge to pee and so went to the bathroom to expel the 13 to 17% alcohol that was running in my sytem.

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When I returned to the bed, Q was still deep in slumber. I tried to resume my sleep. I reckoned I could still sleep for another 15 minutes but by then I was fully awake and conscious of my hangover. I went to the kitchen, boiled a pot of water and made myself a strong cup of coffee.

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I brought the cup to Q's bedroom. As I waited for the coffee to cool a little so as not to burn my tongue I watched him sleep. And then a thought entered my filthy mind. One of my fantasies is giving my partner a blowjob very early in the morning while he is still asleep. That is precisely the thought that entered my mind this morning. It took me a few minutes to deliberate. I touched my coffee cup to feel if it was already okay to take a sip. It still wasn't. So what better way to pass the time?

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Quincy had the bed all to himself and so he was sprawled all over and occupying all the sleeping space. He was wearing a white sando and an army green boxer brief, his arms were crossed under his head, creating a cushion between it and the pillows and his legs were spread wide. Sexy. Plain sexy, the way he slept, I thought.

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I took silent steps to cross the little space from my chair to Q's bed. I listened to his breathing and tried to gauge how asleep he still was. Q did not stir or react to my movements so he must still be in deep slumber. I put my right hand over his crotch and began to massage him. All the while, I was looking at his face to watch out for any reaction.

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Afterwards, since Q seemed to be unaware of what I was doing, I knelt on the bed on the space between his legs and started kissing the skin above the band of Q's boxers. Quincy's abs are tight and ripped by four hours of daily basketball practice and additional two hours of workout in the gym. I kissed his waist and slowly raised his undershirt to run my lips on his six-pack. It was at this time that Q moved. His legs contracted as Quincy raised himself a little on the bed. He was up now.

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What are you doing?

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I wanted to answer, what do you think, but it was obviously self-explanatory. Q reached for something in his bedside table. It was his watch. After taking a glance, he placed it right back and resumed his position in bed.

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You want coffee? Q shook his head and closed his eyes to indicate that he wanted to continue his sleep.

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Well, he knew what I was doing but didn't tell me to stop it. It was only the coffee that he refused. So, it wasn't even ten seconds after Q closed his eyes that I was right back on top of him and kissing his neck. Q did not respond. I kissed him down to his nipples, his stomach and his crotch again.

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Q's cock was still soft when I went down. I slowly removed his boxers and Q cooperated by lifting his lower body a little from the bed. I removed his undies entirely and then took off my own shirt. Q was already half erect when I started sucking him. As always, I began by framing the shaft in my lips and sucking it. And then I bobbed my head up and down the whole cock to direct the blood to fill it. When Q was completely hard, I took it out of my mouth and licked it from the tip of the head to the base. Left side and then the right. Left and then right, up then down.

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When giving head, my cardinal rule is to show appreciation to the entire sex organ. More than giving fellatio, I try to show appreciation for my partner's equipment. Hence, after paying tribute to the cock and have it all excited, I swallowed Quincy's testicles, one ball after another, rolling it with my tongue.

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Quincy was gasping. Both his hands were now on my head as he urged me to continue to give him pleasure. His legs were wide open to give me enough room to operate. I licked his inner thighs, letting the hair growing there to prick my tongue and caress my nose, lips and cheeks. I kissed and bit a little, all the while looking into Q's face as he savored the pleasure.

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Sucking was the only thing in my agenda so I made it last as long as I could. I would suck Q's cock for a few moments and drown it in my saliva and then withdraw it from my mouth. Then I would raise myself and kiss him on the lips, neck and arms. Slowly, I work myself down again as I followed the trail of hair from his flat abs to the glory of his cock. Seeing it is still engorged, I would spit on it a little and resume the sucking.

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It must have taken about twenty or twenty five minutes before Q came. I felt his spasm and his rhythm quicken and I withdrew Q's cock from my mouth. With my very able hand, I guided Q until hot cum spewed from his thick dick. After Q's breathing fell silent, signalling that all semen had come out, we kissed again. With my right hand I spread his cum like butter on his stomach. With my right index finger, I took some of it to run traces around Q's abs and nipples. After that, I knew I had to hurry or else I'd get a traffic violation ticket.

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I just had a quick shower after and then put on a fresh undershirt and the same black pants that I wore the night before. The coffee, which had gone cold during our lovemaking was left in Q's room untouched. Q resumed his sleep and I helped myself out. After I parked my car in the office building, I went to the gym for a few minutes of cardio. It helped to remove the heady feeling I was having and set me in the mood for work.

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All through the day though, in the middle of my meetings and my conversations with fellow lawyers and officemates, all I could think of was the fact that I was able to live out this morning one of my sexual fantasies. Now I'm thinking what gift to give Quincy for helping the fantasy get realized.

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-----oOo-----

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My blog got pimped just recently. Someone picked up my blog greeting to my ultimate man-crush Alvin Patrimonio and posted an excerpt of the birthday message to Alvin's fans' yahoo group. When I wrote the entry, I sadly noted that "he (Alvin) will never get to read this blog". But somehow the stars aligned and Alvin (who periodically reads the message board) will be able (if he still hasn't) to read my greeting. Somehow, it cheers up. Here is the link: http://sports.groups.yahoo.com/group/alvinpatrimonio/message/5287

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-----oOo-----

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Pimped by People. Matt Damon (SpeciMen 08) was recently hailed as 2007 Sexiest Man Alive by People magazine. He takes over Matthew McConaughey whose shirtless campaign failed to make it two in a row. Friends of Matt such as Ben Affleck, George Clooney and Brad Pitt were previous honorees. Typically, Matt took the news in stride and accepted it with good humor.

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The way I look at it, Matt won by default. There wasn't any real contender for this year, except maybe McDreamy (who had a great year on TV and in the big screen with Enchanted), the new James Bond, Daniel Craig (who was smoldering in his gritty film) and Jake Gyllenhaal (whose hotness factor was just tripled by his coupling with Reese Witherspoon). Jake seemed to be too young to be so crowned and it is quite pointless to name Clooney or Pitt for the third time. Matt, who made both men and women admire him in The Bourne Ultimatum, seemed to be the only sane choice.

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Happy Birthday, Honey!!!
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It is still two days away but I am not sure whether I will still find the time to blog a greeting for him tomorrow or Saturday. Or whether I will still have the cooperation of my PC or the web traffic. I remember that same time last year, I had recurrent problems with uploading photos. So, why not today?

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On Saturday, November 17, my dearest man crush Alvin Patrimonio will be celebrating his 41st birthday. So even if he will never get to read this blog, I am giving a shout out of "Happy Birthday, Alvin!!!". I hope you have a great year and that your efforts as team manager will be rewarded by a 2nd championship trophy. If you and your boys make it to the finals, I promise to haul my friends again to the venues to watch the series live and cheer until my voice tires or my elbows hurt (as I did when you won in July of 2006).

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[Incidentally, this is the first time that I am blogging using my SE K800i phone and pasting pictures that I did not grab from somewhere in the web. The top and left photos are shots I took from old magazines using the phone. It has an instant "send to blog" feature. An esteemable partnership between Sony Ericsson and blogspot. It makes my blogging easier.]

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And though Alvin has retired from playing basketball, he remains one of the biggest draws of the PBA even if he just sits on the Purefoods bench as team manager. Thus, during his birthday celebration last year, this shot was flashed during the live coverage of the game. Luckily, his players persevered and delivered a win on that night. Purefoods is presently 6-0 in the conference and is the only remaining undefeated team in the league. Another championship is a great gift I'm sure Alvin will appreciate.
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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.

Living in the Book.

Left work last night feeling a little heady. There was a small celebration in the office and bottles of expensive hard drinks --which for months remained untouched in the cupboard of our lawyers--- were opened and shared. I had about four double shots of scotch on the rocks and afterwards, as I walked from the parking lot to the gym, I felt the effects of this late afternoon and early evening drinking.

Ordinarily, I would pass on the chance of a workday drink, especially one that begins during office hours. But I am presently reading a book recounting the extraordinary friendship of writers F. Scott Fitzgerald and Ernest Hemingway. It was amusing to find how alcohol played a major part in the lives of these literary geniuses. In Fitzgerald's words, I tried to "live in the book" (do as the characters in the book I am reading did) and took some swigs in the midst of my working hours. I didn't get drunk, though, enough to make a fool of myself as Fitzgerald (or "poor Scott" as Hemingway would have put it) often did.

I still resolved to go to the gym afterwards to burn the calories of the oily food and expel the alcohol from my system. This is what I have become: fully conscious of my calorie intake for each day and ridden with guilt unless I have assured myself that an equilibrium has been reached once again.

I woke up before 7 a.m. today with the image of my ultimate man crush, Alvin Patrimonio, shirtless in my room, standing next to my bed and getting ready to straddle me. I am not sure whether it was part of my dream or my very first (sub/un/)conscious thought on my waking moments. Whichever, it was a very welcome image. I closed my eyes again, willing for the thing to continue. It did not. What came afterwards was the image of me kneeling in front of and sucking off 2003 Playgirl centerfold Brent Dupuis. Brent is a total hunk so I am making no complaints about it.

The next time I woke, it was already 10 a.m. I was too late for work. Fortunately, I had no meeting or hearing scheduled in the morning. I just had to report for work because it is Thursday.
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-----oOo-----

I'd like to think that I am making progress with Delio (my gym crush who looks like Irish actor Jonathan Rhys Meyers, thus the photo below). As I earlier wrote, I've often caught him looking in my direction. At some points, he even looks directly at me, at my eyes or face. Still, I remain uncertain as to how to respond to this. On these occasions, I am not sure whether to wink, nod or smile back. At this point, an acknowledgment seems inappropriate so I am holding off.

I'd like to think that it is progress that is being made. My plan is working positively and I am gaining his attention. That I am no longer just another body sauntering (I love this word. I catch myself using it more and more these days) in the gym. To him, I now have a face.

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Delio strikes me as a fashionista. It is obvious in his clothes, whether the ones he wears when he enters the gym or the ones he puts on for his workouts. I am not a fashionista. I never considered or envisioned myself as one, though I always check with Details, GQ and Out that my clothes and style are not dated, tacky or in bad taste.

Still, I thought that if Iwant to mate with a duck, I had to quack like a duck. So, in the past weeks I added more style and accent to my clothings whenever I went to the gym. If before I went straight from the office to the gym in my work attire, now I sometimes change in my car to rugged and fashionable jeans and some shirt, put on a recently bought sneakers and ruffle my hair a little. Before, working out in cotton shirts was fine with me. But since taking notice that Delio always paired his gym attire, I bought a few Nike dri fit training and soccer shirts to pair with my arsenal of Nike and Speedo shorts.

My plan must be working. Yesterday, I went to the office GQ style and not in my usual barong. I wore strapping shirt, tie and coat, stylish faltfront pants and shiny leather shoes. Everything about me said successful and smart young professional. I was oozing with confidence throughout the day. I did not change clothes after the office party and went straight to the gym. While walking across the workout floor to the changing room, I noticed that Delio was eyeing me as I made my progress. He must not have believed who it was who just walked in.

And my happiness did not end there. He actually followed me to the changing room. I'd like to think that he watched me as I undressed and changed to my workout clothes. Delio remained at the drinking fountain, angled in my direction, at the pretext of taking a drink. He was there a few minutes longer than was necessary. At one instance during the night, we happened to go to the comfort room at the same time. While I went straight to use the urinal, Delio went to the sink to "wash his face". I was so conscious of myself while peeing, for all I know, he must have been observing me from the expansive bathroom mirrors.

-----oOo-----

Julian of the Day. I miss Playgirl, I haven't bought a new issue in the last four or five months as none has reached my suppliers. The same goes for the other titles. I miss my porn. I want my porn.

To cheer myself up a little, I have decided to post a picture of my latest favorite model from the magazine, the incomparable Julian Fantechi.

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.

Of Wallpapers and Screensavers.
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Some nights are just plain terrible. I could not get sleep until it is already about three or four o’clock in the morning. Thus, on weekdays, I only get two to four hours of sleep. That is barely enough to get me through the day and I sometimes feel sleepy at work and even when I am driving.

When I am tired enough to read, I use those wee hours to surf the internet using my phones (Sony Ericsson K800i and P910i). Mostly, I google images of beautiful people. Mostly, these are men and women who have been featured in my Must Blow, SpeciMen and To Bi For sections. And then I use these photos as wallpapers and screensavers in my phones.

Today, my wallpapers in my P910i are Alvin Patrimonio (flip closed, above) and Brandon Manilow (flip open, below).

My wallpaper in my K800 is Jensen Ackles (top of blog) while my screensaver is a naked but shy Leandro Becker.

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I change my wallpapers almost everyday. I have a considerable storage of pictures of Matthew McConaughey, Jared Padalecki, Adam Brody, Rachel Bilson, Charlize Theron and Mark Wahlberg, among others.

At least something good has come out of my sleepless nights.

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.

SpeciMen 06: Alvin Patrimonio, Ralph Fiennes and Antonio Sabato, Jr.

My favorite man of all time, whether local or foreign, real or imagined, famous or ordinary, actor, athlete or whatever is Alvin Patrimonio. He is my ultimate man crush. A crush that I have been harboring since I was nine or ten years old.

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Aside from being a professional basketball player Alvin, capitalizing on his good looks, made a few movies. In one interview given by one of his leading ladies (no, not K), she said that it is easy to fall in love with Alvin. I am one who can fully concur with that.

To begin with, Patrimonio is an achiever in his chosen field. He has won four Most Valuable Player (MVP) awards in his professional basketball career and about five or six championship trophies. He not only loves his sport but also his country that he alloted time and talent to suit up with the national team. He is considered one of the true gentlemen of the sport. He is not only adored by his millions of fans, he is also looked up to by fellow players, loved by the media, and highly respected by his team/organization. That is why even when he decided to retire from active play, he was instantly offered the post of team manager. (As team manager, he has aslo stirred his team to one championship.)

Second, Alvin is such a looker. He is so handsome that women are easily attracted to him. The fact that he is not vain, nor considers himself better than the next guy also makes him affable to us men.

Third, despite his achievements and his looks, Alvin is also very virtuous. Even when he has gained all the accolades that the league could give him, Alvin remained a true professional. He was very harworking on the court. The hunger to win never died in him. He likewise remained humble, god-fearing and cordial.

The talent, achievement and gravitas of Ralph Fiennes as an actor is best defined by the litany of movies he has been in. Schindler's List. The Quiz Show. The English Patient. The End of the Affair. The Constant Gardener. Not only are these films instant contemporary classics, Fiennes' performance in all these are considered tour de force in acting.

Fiennes has been nominated in the Oscar. First, as best supporting actor for his role as Nazi officer in Schindler's List. And then as best actor for the intense romantic and literary drama, The English Patient.

He is also one of the most versatile actors in Hollywood and England. Not only can he topbill a romantic drama (as in The End of the Affair, The White Countess and The English Patient) to woe intellectual women, he can also be a leading man in a comedy (as in Maid in Manhattan) to bring in the popcorn-popping crowd. He was exceptionally great as the physically disfigured count in Patient and as the distorted soul in Schindler. The role of a lisping murderer in Red Dragon was a small one but Fiennes made sure to make it memorable. As was his performance as Lord Voldemort in the last few Harry Potter movies.

The third guy in today's installment of SpeciMen is Antonio Sabato, Jr. I slammed him a few blogs back for his mismanagement of what could have been a very promising and fruitful career. I stand by that critique. Still, I cannot help myself. I still love ASJ. He is still the paragon of physical perfection.

Apart from his role in daytime soaps, Melrose Place and a bunch of B-movies, it is undeniable that Antonio Sabato, Jr. will best be remembered as a Calvin Klein underwear model. Though he only picked up from where Marky Mark left off, ASJ's images wearing those tight whites and skimpy boxer briefs made their own marks in the minds of the consuming public. The billboards towered and his smile and physique won over multitudes of men, women and everyone in between. And for that he is now immortalized.

Alvin Patrimonio and Hollywood Hotties.

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Last night, my friends and I watched Game 5 of the current PBA finals featuring Purefoods and Red Bull at the Araneta Coliseum. I purchased the tickets a week ago, Patron B. Purefoods is up 3-1 and I really believed that it would clinch the title that night.

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I went there to cheer for, of course, Alvin Patrimonio - my first boyfriend. He retired from the league in 2004 and is now serving the team as its Team Manager. I instantly melted when I saw him on the team bench. At 39, not only is he the sexiest team manager in the league but he is also still the sexiest man alive for me. From my seat, I admired his still smooth face and bulbous butt. He hardly smiled the whole game but constantly cheered his team on.

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Purefoods led for most of the game, leading by as much as 11 points at the end of the first half. Red Bull, however, was able to tie the game exactly at the last-two-minutes mark. From then on, Red Bull slowly built a 2-4-5 points margin that Purefoods was not able to come back from. James Yap , trying to play the hero, made the crucial mistake of cockily firing a three point shot when two points would have been enough to keep his team on track. Richard Yee, also delicious, played the game of his life by scoring 17 points, all in the first three quarters of the game. Purefoods lost. The final score, if I remember it right, was 93-88.

Opened msn today to read them name 2006's Hollywood Hotties. Among male Hollywood, the distinction went to Wentworth Miller, Brandon Routh, Jake Gyllenhaal, Brad Pitt, Josh Holloway, Johnny Depp, Orlando Bloom, Jamie Foxx, and Adrian Grenier. I totally agree with the inclusion of Jake G, Routh and Orlando. Whoever thought playing Superman, Johnny Depp's sidekick or a cowboy hand could be so sexy?

The female honorees are: Angelina Jolie, Jessica Alba, Eva Longoria, the Pussycat Dolls, Scarlett Johansson, Nelly Furtado, Keira Knightley, Rachel McAdams and Katherine McPhee. I think Jessica Alba stands out from them all. I like her a lot. She is so sexy.