fourfour

Spread chunk

So, I wanted to do a big post a la this on my chunk-spotting adventures this summer. A chunk manifesto, I guess you could say, to sort of help define chunk (which generally describes thick guys no more than 25 lbs. overweight, but as it's a case-by-case thing, chunk is necessarily an elusive concept -- chunk, like house music, is a feeling) and clear up misconceptions (i.e. stop calling me a chubby chaser!). But then, you know, I started putting the shit together, with some 30 photos of unaware strangers that I took and the whole thing was just looking sleazy and gratuitous. I'm both of those things, so you can imagine the excess involved if this shit was too much for me to post.

So, in the name of socially acceptable perversion, I think what I'll do is post a shot every now and then (say, once a week) with maybe a fun fact on chunk or an explanation of why said chunky guy deserves appreciation or reprimand or whatever. This is all, you know, an attempt to bring body diversity to the gay blogosphere, which is something I care deeply about. Really. Chunk is not going away, people. This is something that demands awareness. I think in addition to this campaign, I'll start handing out chunk ribbons made of peanut butter in Union Square and shit.

This presentation of flesh (and so much of it!) understandably will gross some out and so, I suggest following the advice of my middle-school sewing teacher, Mrs. Crist, when she broke a blood vessel in her eye, causing her to look both cross-eyed and demonic: if ya don't like it, don't look at it.

Anyway, here's the first specimen -- he was the hottest I saw on my Jersey vacation, so I made sure to get him in front and side views. Click to make him bigger than he already is (har har):

What's great about him is that he's fantastically proportioned. And, in addition to looking like he might shove a beer funnel down your throat and punch you in the stomach when you don't handle binge drinking with the finesse he expects, you can see that this is just a handsome dude. And that's the first lesson -- I don't think of chunk as end, but a means to one. It is an enhancer. Think of it this way: a good burger is a good burger, but cheese makes a good burger great.

Fuh-ree-ee-eh-ee

It feels weird to not have some mega-post going up on a Friday, but hey, it's now what we call in the recapping business ("business") "the off-season." Kinda sad, but mostly liberating. I'll put it this way: now I know how Mariah felt when she was released from her Sony contract and scrambled to record a cryptic-but-telling voice message for her website. Holla!

I actually wanted to have the ANTM Cycle 6 wrap-up posted today, but YouTube weirdness and general fatigue prevented it. Oh well -- now you have something to look forward to for after the long weekend. Provided, y'know, that you still care.

In lieu of that, here are two things to ponder. Think hard enough, and they should take up as much time as reading a recap. Concentrate, concentrate.

1. I've been thinking this for months, but I guess I'm saying something now because summer (aka chunk season) is upon us and I care more. This "doctor" on the Hydroxycut commercial...

...looks so much better in the before shot, and I'm not just letting my chunkaholism do the talking.

He's clearly on the way to diesel in the before shot, anyway, and I'm not a huge fan of that odd fit-but-distended belly, but look at his face! The guy seriously aged 10 years in eight weeks. So men, if you're considering dropping 30 lbs., I say think again. Your youthful glow will thank me for it.

2. It might be Winston's birthday today! It's hard to tell, one document that we have says it's tomorrow, while his rabies-vaccine certificate says today (depending on when they started counting the days -- it lists him as being four months, three weeks and three days old on Oct. 20, 2004, which means it's his birthday today if they started counting the day after, when he was actually one day old, or it's tomorrow if they just started counting on his actual birthday). Confusing! But either way, he's 2-years-old, like, now.

Anyway, here's part of the vaccination document:

Note that he used to be called "Crazy." I love that! I mean, I concur wholeheartedly, I just wonder what he was like as a kitten to earn that name. He's gone from "Crazy" to "Crazylegs."

Hi, Back-brace Cat/Possible Birthday Boy! Horrible posture, horrible posture. Maybe I'm a crooked man with a crooked cat. Maybe I need to get him checked for polio. I don't think he was vaccinated for that.

Savage chunk

I'm not trying to say that Fred Savage is hot.

I'm not trying to say his new, probably temporary sitcom Crumbs is worthwhile.

But for about 30 seconds last week, I believed both of those statements were true. Why? Exposed chunk:

Paul Wall: Uglyhot

I wanna work on Paul Wall's grill. And I mean work.

Endless chunk

South Jersey is a haven for (or maybe our nation's capital of) the slightly overweight, so having been raised there, it's probably no coincidence that I dig stocky guys. While it's weird to visit a place where schlubbiness is the approximate male beauty standard after living in the infinitely more fitness-minded New York, returning to wall-to-wall beef is the kind of culture shock that actually feels good. (Appropriately enough, Urban Dictionary's first entry of "schlub" defines it as "the opposite of metrosexual.")

Recently, while on the beach with bf (who shares my eye for chunk -- duh, as he's with me), we saw these two guys . . .

. . . and immediately, a personal challenge was born: we wondered how many hot chunky guys we could capture in a three-block radius (devoting approximately 20 minutes to our task). As we don't enjoy being gay bashed and otherwise want to keep all of our teeth, we knew we had to be stealth (I played nature photog whenever a slab of Jersey-raised beef seemed to figure out what was going on). Anyway, because of this condition, the pics we snapped aren't always of ideal quality, but I think you'll get the idea. The shots are loosely organized in ascending order of chunkiness. Enjoy -- we always do.

One to watch:

As he's emerging, so is his chunk:

This one's a tough call, and that's kind of exciting:

Regarding the covering-up thing, I wonder why guys think swimming in a white shirt is A) effective and B) acceptable. Love yourself! Stop making me do all the work!

Get off your can:

Definitive chunk:

Chunk ya lata:

This one represents a breed that runs rampant in S. Jersey -- the sexy dad. Not "Daddy" or any sort of gay stereotype subscriber (though it's easy to get them confused), but real, live, sexy fathers:

All this, of course, is saying nothing about the endless supply of sexy women. South Jersey really has it all. I'm so proud to call it home.

This just in -- Playgirl readers rule, as per a recent reader survey that found, among things:

While 58% favored a slightly muscular build, 42% said they found love handles kind of sexy

Atta go, girls. Put the beef back in beefcake.

Feline artistic

Rudy puts a new spin on an old classic:

In other news, the chunk is coming (and going and fucking everywhere on the Jersey Shore).

More on that soon.

Stock photo

I don't know if it's the angle or what, but it looks like Jake Gyllenhaal's becoming Donnie Porko.

Goddamn, I love him. Jake, if it doesn't work out with Kiki, I'll cook for you ANY. TIME.

(Original photo lovingly grabbed from Chunk Feud, I mean Junk Feud.)

Baptized in the chunk

I knew VH1's Strip Search wasn't worth my stare during the first episode when the faux-hawked twit Billy Cross told contestant Bryce he'd need to lose the love handles. So, I keep just one wary eye on it. I disagree with its think-thin philosophy, but I'm not about to go masochistic and stop watching completely. That would mean depriving myself of beefy Bryce.

Not that it was a surprise that the solidly built slab of meat that Bryce is would be asked to shape up -- you don't need a working knowledge of Playgirl to be familiar with the taut and toned standard of male objectification. During last week's episode (No. 4), Bryce complained that he needs visible abs in three weeks (because blahblahblah the show's a competition blahblahblah eliminations blahblahblah show Bryce again). This would seem an impossible feat:

But I'm saying bullshit: Bryce is the only guy worth watching on that show precisely because of his body (his edible face doesn't hurt, though). Bryce is hot because he isn't an ideal or an Adonis archetype -- he's a real guy with a real butt and a real belly (I realize that there's a dab of narcissism in my appreciation of husky boys, btw). Slender and vaguely muscley is the status quo's approved body type, presumably because it's a sign of effort put into physical upkeep and therefore tangible evidence of good health. But the state of being that is chunky (not fat, not pleasantly plump, not round, but chunky) is a middle that's often just as hard to maintain -- see how so many guys teeter on the edge of fat and end up falling (rolling?) over.

In a way, Strip Search is worthy of praise just for featuring someone like the frequently shirtless Bryce. At least we get the chance to appreciate him (if, y'know, that's our thing). But I fear he's, in fact, an example: the plus-sized ne'er-do-well. I'm afraid he's nothing but Strip Search's Toccara.

"I'd pay for liposuction to get the body," voiceovers an exasperated Bryce during Episode 4's workout montage. Well, that doesn't seem very healthy does it? Look at how sad he gets:

I have no idea how Strip Search is going to pan out, but Bryce's days are probably numbered. Oh well. Hopefully he didn't lose too much weight in the whole, retarded process.

Bryce, I fetishize you just the way you are.