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Obsoxssion

ellsbury_bed
Okay, I know there wasn’t much to get excited about this World Series. A 4-game sweep isn’t fun for anyone except my liver and my social life, even if it’s your team manhandling a bunch of mountain dwellers who had no business being in the World Series to begin with.

But I managed to find a few things to get exited about. And here they are in reverse-order of obsessionocity.

Jason Varitek
The gentlest of the Sox’ three cuddly basebears (the others being Mike Lowell and Kevin Youkilis, of course). So big and brawny that you’d need a belayer to climb him. And let it be known that not only is he team captain, but he bats both ways. If you know what I mean. Oh, and he kind of looks like a bat swinging Colin Farrell, no? Not that Colin hasn’t shown us how he can swing a bat…

pedroiaDustin Pedroia
Okay, he’s not from Massachusetts, but something about this miniature baseball player (5′9″!) just screams of Lowell townie. And that’s precisely why he’s so adorable. That and the gargantuan schnoz that somehow manages to be beak-like and up-turned at the same time. And who doesn’t like a guy whose nostrils you can see up from any angle?

ellsJacoby Ellsbury
My mad crush on this young rookie developed organically throughout the last two series. It’s now reached a full-blown obsession that has hijacked my mind and prevented me from thinking about much else. First, he’s a fucking good ball player. Second, he’s got just enough gay affect to make me nervous for him when I think about Dustin Pedroia-related shower antics. I imagine he showers in board shorts.

Apparently Ellbury has a girlfriend, but then again, so does A-Rod. But one thing’s for sure, he can catch my fly ball any day.

(Thanks to Queerty for the photo montage that has prevented me from getting any work done today. And I’ll also credit the original source for Queerty, too: the ladies over at Ladies… that put together the alarm clock photo in, sadly, photoshop.)

PEN15 Drippings: Professional humiliation edition

Gorgeous hunk o’ Australian man-meat Hugh Jackman’s CBS producing effort, the super-faggy Viva Laughlin, gets axed after a pathetic two episodes. Hugh presumably seeks comfort in the jowls of his grandma-wife. [Zap2it]

Jakey’s Rendition gets an opening weekend to match its pathetic reviews, as audiences flock to watch Josh Hartnett fight vampires instead. Also getting trounced were two superb, tough-to-market movies, Gone Baby Gone and Things We Lost in the Fire. [Box Office Mojo]

“Ryan Gosling enters rehab” in 10, 9, 8… [Variety]

Marie Osmond collapses live on Dancing With the Stars. Datalounge explodes. [Datalounge]

Don’t worry - we’re still Gyllenhaalics

Today I realized that this blog’s erstwhile object of obsession - not Star Jones, the other one - has gone unremarked upon for far too long.

So because his new movie Rendition opens Friday, it seems as good a time as any to re-pledge our Gyllenhysteria. He’s been making the talk show rounds this week, rocking a fierce beard (the furry kind, not the Reese Witherspoon kind). Look how cute he is when Meredith Vieira inadvertently makes a bottoming joke at his expense (that saucy minx). Plus, who can resist an actor under 30 who’s classy enough to wear a nice suit on Letterman?

So even though Rendition is getting lousy reviews, and Jake looks like he’s in over his head as a morally conflicted CIA agent, and it’s opening in my city the same day as 10 jillion other Serious Adult Dramas that I’m going to try to see in one weekend (wouldn’t it be easier if they all just merged into one star-studded Oscar-baiter called Sleuthing for Things Lars and the Real Girl Lost in the Fire on Reservation Road, But We’re Pretty Sure They’re Gone Baby Gone?), I’ll still line up for Jake’s first. Sigh…

Jake Gooberballs appears on Letterman [Towleroad]

And you thought Ellen only cared about pussy

Ellen DeGeneres’ puppy breakdown on today’s show (I’m not synopsizing it or bothering to embed the video, God knows you’ve seen it) initially struck me as being bizarrely out of character.

Then I remembered late-’90s Ellen, the emotional one who did America the great disservice of Shoving Homosexuality Down Its Throat. That Ellen could easily have been choked up by a stray, abused animal. In fact, she did, if you count Anne Heche.

Part of me thinks that this uncharacteristic vulnerability of Ellen 2.0 is just our gal giving The View a run for its crazy. But Big E runs the risk of re-alienating her hausfrau viewers - you know, the ones who don’t like their celebrities having opinions about things. Even cute dogs.

So in the end, I guess the most surprising part of the experience was her claim that she sees her hair stylist every day. I honestly wouldn’t have guessed.

Animal Rescue Dept: Ellen DeGeneres’ scrappy lapdog meltdown [Defamer]

They don’t call it the VatiCAN’T

Another day, another story proving my point that every conservative and/or super religious person ever is really, really gay.

Today’s “wide stance” story comes from the highest of the high, the holiest place outside of Salt Lake… or heaven. We’re talking the Vatican. (”What?! Gays in the Vatican?! Next you’ll try telling me those women with the big watches and nice calves that bought all my fleece sweatshirts at my garage sale were lesbians! Ridiculous!”)

Monsignor Tommaso Stenico, a Vatican official, has been suspended after being caught on film hitting on a young man. The case is pending investigation, but, guys, this one really looks like a slam dunk. I mean, we’ve got (1) a guy who dresses like a priest (2) hitting on boys (3) on camera, (4) addressing the “gay sex is a sin” obstacle by, uh, telling them it’s not. I don’t see how he could possibly get around this, other than, heh, putting out a statement saying that he was pretending to be gay for research purposes or something like that…

Oh god. This is embarrassing. The Good Monsignor has just put out a statement claiming that gay baiting was part of his ongoing research into the gay psyche, which he conducts in order to better understand “those that damage the image of the church with homosexual activity.” And that he also didn’t tell his boss about. And that he also didn’t acknowledge for about 48 hours after he was busted. And that he learned his mad research skillz from the likes of Sean Cody, Corbin Fischer, and the dudes that run the Bait Bus. (If you don’t get those references, a little googling from the privacy of your own home will go a long way. Just keep your wallet in your pocket.)

So, thanks to Larry Craig, this Vatican guy, and Wentworth Miller, we all now know that it takes anywhere between 48 hours and 3 months to come up with a completely reasonable (read: hetero) story for why you might have been caught trying to solicit gay sex.

And in case you’re keeping track, that’s: Mark Foley, Bob Allen, Ted Haggard, Larry Craig, Joey DiFatta, Tommaso Stenico, and a few thousand Catholic priests that are still all completely into chicks.

And these are the ones that got caught… being misunderstood as gay.

Update: And just because I might not have another chance to post today, I’ll add Monday’s GOP arrest to this post: Donald Fleischman, the chair of Wisconsin’s republican party, has been charged with performing sexual acts on an underage boy. In 48 hours, we’re expected to have a story of how he came home from an event at an orphanage a little drunk, crawled into bed, and dismayed to find (after the deed had been done) that instead of his wife in bed next to him, one of the neighbor boys had crawled in through the window to retreieve a frisbee, and was suddenly overcome with sleepiness.

PEN15 Drippings: 10/10/07

After seven long years, eternally twinkalicious Ryan Phillippe is free of the Pointy-Chinned Menace! Free! [AP via Yahoo!]

Blow-han describes her rehab experience as “sobering.” In other news, my last airplane flight was “uplifting.” And when I stood on the people-mover on the way to the gate, it, like, totally “moved” me.

Lindsay claims she’s about to shoot a movie called Dare to Love Me, and I think it’s cute that she thinks it’s going to get a theatrical distribution deal. [MSN]

Drunken, maniac dyke Michelle Rodriguez prepares for the full Chained Heat experience, as she’s been sentenced to 180 days in jail. Study those Linda Blair movies, Michelle, and just remember: Stay away from plungers. Unless you’re into that sort of thing. [DListed]

Oh my God, it’s John Krasinski in the shower (sort of SFW, depending on where you, um, W). We’re gonna need to be alone for a few minutes. [WinterTyppe]

Midlife crisis Monday

Oh, to be a successful, fortysomething multimillionaire with rugged yet carefully manicured good looks at the top of your professional game. Regardless of sexual orientation, when you’ve attained all of your life’s goals and are still sort of young enough to be considered hot, it can lead you to act out in strange ways.

Tom Ford, who famously substituted himself for a balking Rachel McAdams on that cadaver-slab of a Vanity Fair cover, has found yet another opportunity to act out what is apparently every designer’s fantasy: to be a model! In this month’s Out, Tom and his Aging Queen Bikini Brief Tan Line can be seen cavorting in the shower with a couple of naked male models (complete with “macho” towel-snapping!). Does anybody else want to be a fly on the wall during the meetings in which Tom helpfully “offers” to appear, clothed or not, in these fashion spreads?

Halfway to the other end of the Kinsey scale (allegedly), we have Confirmed Bachelor George Clooney, who’s recovering from his recent motorcycle accent with his former reality show contestant girlfriend (and really, what says Heterosexual Midlife Crisis louder than that?). George is likely to eventually bankrupt poor Michelle Pfeiffer with the marriage-and-kids bet they made while shooting One Fine Day more than a decade ago. What Michelle doesn’t understand is that a settled-down George will never have the appeal of George the Model-Dating Playboy Who Has Probably Let Scott Caan Go Down on Him Once or Twice.*

*We like to imagine.

Tom Ford is a towel snapper [Towleroad]
George Clooney and Michelle Pfeiffer raise the stakes [Starpulse]

Insatiable ‘Top’

WARNING: This post includes Top Chef finale spoilers. If you DVR’d it and haven’t watched it yet, please scroll down and read this post later.

I’m usually a fan of whatever artisanal reality competition show is running on Bravo at a given moment, but this was the first season I really cottoned to Top Chef. The chefs developed a genuine camaraderie, Tom Colicchio got to be a bit less of a dick, tall-drink-of-water CJ and sweaty Brian provided eye candy, and we got an up-close look at Rocco DiSpirito’s recent facework.

Even Padma’s relentless sycophancy (Colicchio: “That dish was awful.” Padma: “Awful.”) got to be less annoying as the season wore on.

That’s why I was disappointed by tonight’s finale, which saw a shocking flameout for Casey (my favorite of the finalists) and a stick-in-the-craw victory for cutthroat, immature Hung. As for Dale, well…my guess is he isn’t a top anything.

It’s hard to second-guess the judges’ decisions on Top Chef since, you know, you can’t taste the food. But it sucks to invest in watching an entire season only to be left with a douchebaggy victor. Now if somebody would just mail me a vacuum-sealed sample of Hung’s raw hamachi fish ‘n chips, I might re-consider.

Oral-Town

I always thought that if I were to sit down and sketch out a caricature of a sleezy pederast, the outcome would look roughly like Lou Pearlman. Y’know, big lips, sausage hands, Transitions™ lenses, the whole nine.

So, for me, it’s only just desserts finding out that, had I been in a boy band, my parents probably would have had a legitimate reason for not allowing me to accept rides home from uncle Lou.

The next issue of Vanity Fair, hitting stands this week, reveals that the creator of such mantastickness as The Backstreet Boys and ‘NSync developed his Midas touch by training teenaged boys to sing into a skin microphone. Specifically, his skin microphone. Test one-fucking-two-three.

So far all of us still wondering who Joey Fatone had to fuck to earn his fame, the answer is the Fat-one.

Stories range from some innocent towel-clad wrestling, to aura-reviving massages, to plain ol’ oral sex. Oh, and mandatory games of hide-and-gang-bang-Lance-Bass.

Notably, none of the formerly-young pop stars have actually come forward with accusations of first-hand abuse, so don’t be so sure that the ol’ Pearl(man) Necklace™ is how Justin Timberlake got such a buttery voice.

Sordid Tales from the World of Boy Bands [CBS News Showbuzz]

Short circuit party

In the biggest Guttenberg-related literary development since the invention of the printing press, ’80s comedy star Steve Guttenberg emerged from his Mystic tanning booth long enough to tell Ben Widdicombe that he’s been asked to write a memoir. Like, for people to buy and read.

When a has-been this vanilla descends from planet Loser Dust to regale us with his life story, it can only mean one thing: He’s finally coming out of the closet. Guttenberg’s penchant for the man-sex is no secret. I mean, take a look at this photo.

We just can’t wait to hear the story of how he had to beg to convince Ron Howard that he was butch enough to play the sexy youngster in Cocoon.

Guttenberg knows the ropes [NY Daily News]