1. This deadly virus is going to kill us!

2. Oh, no it’s not.

3. That’s my son!

4. Oh, no it’s not.

5. These crazed survivalists are going to kill us!

6. Oh, no they’re not.

7. This pseudo government is going to save us!

8. Oh, no it’s not.

9. This pseudo government is going to kill us!

10. Oh, no it’s not.

11. This newly re-engineered virus is going to kill us!

12. Oh, no it’s not.

13. “They” have ________! They’re going to kill him/her/them!

14. Oh, no they’re not.

15. Repeat steps 13 and 14 until series is renewed or canceled.

16. The end.

http://www.box.net//static/flash/box_explorer.swf?widget_hash=rk32fixleu&v=1&cl=0

Assuming that reflects my current state of mind, I’m kinda glad it’s the weekend.

For a few hot minutes in the early 1980s, four young women ruled the pages of TV Guide. Sadly, they’re not seen too often these days. (Kind of like TV Guide.)

Nancy McKeon occasionally pops up in Lifetime-y movies of the week. Kim Fields had a sitcom or two, then succumbed to a very bad weave and started doing cash advance commercials. Lisa Whelchel became very godly and fell in with the scrapbooking crowd. And Mindy Cohn? Well, we hadn’t heard much from Mindy at all.

Until now.

Apparently, Mindy is starring in a new indie film called Violet Tendencies. Basically, it’s a story about “the world’s oldest living fag hag” trying to find love. And to complicate matters, she wants someone who’ll not only wine, dine, and 69 her, but also someone who’ll provide as much entertainment value as her campy urban comrades.

At first glance, the movie looks pretty much like any other romantic comedy. We start with a central character who’s never found love because she’s too preoccupied. Subsequently, she finds it, questions it, loses it, and in the end (I’m guessing), totally gets it. And in between, there are lots of gay jokes. Pretty standard fare.

On the other hand, if we assume that trailers often feature the best clips of a movie, this one looks pretty damn good — at least better than, say, The Last Song. Which may not be saying much, but we’re talking about a summer film, and you know, I don’t really expect The Master and Margarita from a summer film.

Also appealing: the film has some personal resonance with me. Back in the day, I used to run with a fairly large gaggle of gays, and there were always a handful of women riding shotgun. Some came and went very casually, but a couple were die-hards. They were funny and pleasant, and they knew what they were getting into, but at the same time, I always felt a little embarrassed having them around. Guys would be making out on the sofa or talking about their giddy, new-found love, and…well, I was always taught that if you didn’t bring enough for everyone, you should leave it at home. Does that make sense?

Anyway, here’s the clip. Maybe the renovations to our downtown indie cinema will be completed by the time this one rolls into town.

When I first learned about my sister, she sent me links to her music clips and videos. I was terrified. What if I hated them? What would I tell her? How could I look her in the face? (Which was less of a concern, since she lives a full continent away, but still, you have to think about these things.)

Fortunately, I loved her stuff. She’s got a great ear for sound; a smoky, sexy voice (that sounds to me like Roisin Murphy after three scotch-and-sodas and half a pack of Marlboro Reds); and for the past several years, she’s been animating her own videos, which adds a little je ne sais quoi.

Anyway, she’s been on a bit of a hiatus, working on some other projects, but I’m happy to report that she’s back in the studio, and she’s just finished the first of seven (!!!) videos for her new band, Leather Tuscadero. The song is called “The Shakes”, and Tiff says “Musically, I was influenced by ‘Baby, Please Don’t Go’ meets ‘Caravan’, and visually I was going for 1950’s horror comic meets ‘The Sheik’.” I kinda think she nailed it:

http://vimeo.com/moogaloop.swf?clip_id=10840198&server=vimeo.com&show_title=1&show_byline=1&show_portrait=0&color=00ADEF&fullscreen=1

Leather Tuscadero – The Shakes from CRAZYGIRL on Vimeo.

Richard Renaldi is one of my favorite photographers, and one day, I’ll probably take out a second mortgage so I can buy one of his larger-than-life prints. Unfortunately, I’ll probably have to take out a third mortgage so I can build a new wall on which to hang it.

Richard Renaldi is also one of Jonno‘s closest friends from his New York days. Every so often, he’ll swing through for a visit with his equally handsome, talented partner, Seth. Good people, those two.

Speaking of New York, if you’re there, or if you’re going to be there between now and May 28, stop by The Gallery at Hermès (yes: Hermès, bitches) to see his “Touching Strangers” series. Philadelphians, you can view the “Fall River Boys” series (from which the photo above was taken) until May 2 at Sol Mednick Gallery. And Venetians (ciao, ragazzi!) check out his work at the Galleria Contemporaneo through next week. There’s a full schedule and more on Richard’s personal blog.

This concludes Art Beefcake Wednesday.

Kind of like the photo of a dead girl — a dead girl you always considered the British equivalent of Macy Gray.

Yeah, the Jersey Shore kids are all pretty terrible, but still:

I mean, c’mon.

I have never, ever been skinny.

I have tried. I’ve counted calories since seventh grade. (So far today, I’m at 920.) Thanks to rigorous gym routines and substantial doses of Creatine, I have become less chunky at times, and for a couple of years, I was even lean-ish. But never skinny.

I’ve toyed with saying to hell with it and really trying to pack on pounds. We tend to style ourselves after others we find attractive, and since I’ve always preferred guys with meat on their bones, why not join the crowd?

Unfortunately, I’ve never been able to break into beefyland. Even after Jonno and I got hitched and I started packing on the marriage pounds, I hit a plateau where my metabolism and my calorie consumption hung in balance. The photo above was taken near my top-end. (I have  a gut there, you just can’t see it.) Since then, I’ve hovered 10 or 15 pounds north of my ideal weight, and that’s the way it’s likely to remain. BFD.

* * * * *

There are lots of guys built like me, so I don’t think I’m especially weird (in this respect, anyway). But the gay world and gay media tend to push folks like me toward extremes — particularly, toward one of the three ideal gay body types: the twink, the muscleboy, and the bear.

Attaining a twink body is impossible for most. If I were to try, I’d end up like those frustrated, emotionally ravaged women on Super Skinny Me, or possibly at the bottom of the Mississippi. Going muscly is just as maddening, demanding severe exercise regimes and constant monitoring of food intake (way more than just counting calories). The bear body, on the other hand, is a bit more “natural”, and something that many guys grow into. But some get impatient waiting for that to happen. Which leads me to the whole point of this post: the world of gainers and feeders.

Gainers (i.e. guys who want to gain weight) and feeders (i.e. the guys helping them bulk up) may look like they’re a part of bear culture — and in terms of end results, maybe they are — but to my mind, they slightly different breed. Most of the bears and bear admirers that I know simply like big guys, but what gainers and feeders really fetishize is food. So, instead of using sex to act out roles of domination and submission, gainers and feeders use cheeseburgers, pastrami sandwiches, and beer.

That’s not really my scene, but that’s mostly because I don’t associate food with sex. I don’t find food particularly erotic (sensual, but not erotic), and I’ve never enjoyed getting busy after a meal. Even that refrigerator scene from 9 1/2 Weeks doesn’t do anything for me — apart from the hotness that is Mickey Rourke pre-silicone.

But there are plenty of others who enjoy it, and for them, Frederic Moffet put together the short film Hard Fat (mostly SFW). I hadn’t seen it for several years, but I stumbled across it just a couple of days ago, and it’s still worth a look:

http://vimeo.com/moogaloop.swf?clip_id=10307976&server=vimeo.com&show_title=1&show_byline=1&show_portrait=0&color=&fullscreen=1

[via CTRL+W33D]

Michael Lohan in 2008, commenting on a rumored wedding between his daughter, Lindsay Lohan, and DJ Samantha Ronson:

“I haven’t heard anything (about an upcoming wedding) from Lindsay, but if she was marrying Sam, I don’t think she’d ask me to walk her down the aisle,” says Michael. “She knows about my (Christian) faith …  she just wouldn’t ask.” [MSNBC]

Above: Michael Lohan last week, grinding his Christian cock against the backside of pornstar Gina Lynn for the paparazzi. At a press conference that was not about porn. While his fiancee watched. [TheSuperficial]

The man responsible for much of my teen rebellion has died from cancer at age 64. I don’t get starstruck as a rule, and there aren’t many people on Planet Earth who’d make me giddy and nervous, but Malcolm McLaren was one of them. Rest in peace, sugar. Rest in peace.