WC boy of week and my war against (some) small children

World Cup and Armani underwear ads….What do the two have in common?

Cristiano Ronaldo, the 25-year-old who  has assisted in the efforts today to help me beat jet lag and stay awake during a long and grueling day of herding international cats and planning a very, very exciting military exercise.

Let’s just be honest, he is my eye candy of the week, an easy way to explain my love of a good male underwear ad and my tendency to fancy shirtless men.  I had fully intended on writing a post about Germany and the game this weekend and who I could stalk from a far for the week leading up to the game but let’s be honest….Germany does not produce such lookers as Mr. Fuck Me Six Ways til Sunday Ronaldo.  In fact, I think he’s sent me into some sort of heat.  At least I’m not sleeping in the middle of the day, which is what I was doing about 20 minutes ago.  Anyway, analyzing the sex tunnels (you know what I’m talking about) displayed on young footballers at your desk is not an optimal situation when you are surrounded by coworkers and are waiting to do your own security clearance interview, but whatever.  I cannot control my urges and today it’s all Ronaldo, all the time.

Also worth noting is that I think I have the same taste in men as whoever does the Armani underwear campaign and oh, every gay male between the ages of 18-27, just a guess.  I’ll have to ask my expert in all things gay and see if he agrees with my need to lick Ronaldo today.

I should note that another reason I’m discussing this is not really just my need to see penis in strategically tight underwear, as I’m not a stalker of all underwear campaigns and I don’t even live near a billboard….it’s just that earlier this month we discussed my love of David Beckam, which led me to HIS Armani underwear campaign and well now look at this one.  Feel free to refer back to that blog post and let me know whose underwear campaign is yummier.  I may still stick with Becks, winner by accent only in this case.

Now one last pic of Mr. Rinaldo to prove my point and then we’ll move on.  I mean really?  Is this picture my gift of the day? I’m in awe.  That kid has like six inches between his belly button and his cock where as I don’t even have that much space from my knee to my ankle and I really can’t stop evaluating his belly to goodies ratio.   Oh, Cristiano, I want to do very bad things to you and at the very least, I just want to keep my hands out of my own pants right now.  Yummy, yummy World Cup boys.  Ok, we really have to move on.  There are other things to discuss than foreign cock.

In other news, I met a celebrity of sorts yesterday, and I was excited until he made me hate him and that’s where we stand.  That’s almost ruining the story, but here we go.

So I’m sitting in my window seat 13A on British Air from Boston to London to Stuttgart.  I notice some kid, he’s maybe eight, maybe six, they are bred big these days, who knows, and I can’t get it out of my head that I know him from somewhere.  I am staring at him so intently that I think I catch his mother staring at me like I’m a creep at the airport.  Whatever, I’m not a creep so I keep staring.  Where the hell do I know this kid from?  And why do I feel like we have a bond and I love him?

Oh yes!, I know where he’s from, it comes to me in a flash and I am PUMPED.  He’s David!! David from the Dentist!  David, the kid who coined my favorite line: “Is this real life?”  God, I wish I had come up with that one.  Anyway, for those of you that aren’t in the almost 63 million people that have seen him, here is his youtube video for you to watch and understand my love for this kid.  Or loved.

So I’m thinking to myself, how do I confirm this because he now has a luscious bowl haircut, he’s older, and in the video it appears he might like Florida, be from Florida, who knows, and he was coming from Boston.  Seems to be the same kid, though, I’m sure of it almost, and so I am thinking of a way to break the ice with this eight year old like we’re at a goddamned cocktail party and I’m not 30 when his bowl cropped head pops over the seat to stare at me.  I stare back, I am a master at the mind games of children.

“Are you David?”  I asked him.  I did not show emotion, not wanting him to think I cared.

“Yeaaaaaaaah.” God, he was a whiner.

“And you’re in that video?”  I smiled, showing him I was happy, almost ready to clap like a seal and tell him how much I loved him and I didn’t want want an autograph or anything insane like that, especially since I was sure he hadn’t even finished penmanship classes.  Well, that’s not true.  He could have.  I think I finished learning cursive when I was eight, haven’t used it past the age of twelve and maybe he and I could discuss that after we discussed the wonderful world of sedation and loopy drugs, mutual hatred for the dentist, and then probably whatever he felt like discussing, as he was the one with 63 million followers, not me.  But then he went and got mouthy.

“Yeaaaaaaaaaaah.  SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.”  And then he smirked at me, dismissed me and turned back around to tell his mother that the flight to Netherlands was actually going to Belgium and the fact that he knew both countries existed annoyed me.  That little eight year old just dismissed me like I was some crazy and he was not at all interested in my conversation.  Well I’ll be damned.

Actually, maybe it wasn’t the same kid.  I hope it was some imposter, acting like a small jerk for no reason because the David I wanted to meet was going to be awesome and this kid was a douche in training.  Doesn’t seem quite right.

Ugh, either way, I wanted to pinch him and every small children that used that smirky, squinty-eyed, I’m going to stick my tongue out at you, look at adults when their parents aren’t looking.  The one that your mom would say when you were younger, “You better wipe that look off your face before I slap it off.”  I don’t remember my mother actually ever saying that phrase, but I am going to start using it.  I don’t care if it’s wrong.  Sometimes, kids just deserve a good, hard pinch under the arm to teach them a lesson about being bad.

Or maybe I need to stop pouting about an eight year old who was too fantastic to give me the time of day. Speaking of fantastic kids, let’s all check out this video again of Pearl, The Landlord, which I love, love, love.

This child I would not pinch under her arm.  I would plop her on the couch with me and we would share many hours of bonding together.

So those are the things that kept me going today as I battled jet lag and narcolepsy.  Later this week I will do a recap of my Maine visit….maybe when I can stay awake for more than twenty minutes.