Tuesday, February 9, 2010

Still More Olympic Spirit

Just days away, and the testosterone wafting up through the jet stream from Vancouver is intoxicating. Finely toned, world class bodies are at this very moment in the peak condition of their lives and assembled with other world class athletes all in one place.
Since I don't follow many winter sports, I'm once again relying on helpful readers to point me in the direction that I intuitively know that I want to be led. That's how I was put on the trail of Mike Komisarek, 6'4" 243 pound defensemen playing for the Toronto Maple Leafs. He's got a beefy farmboy look about him I like.
And whatever the hell this kid in white is doing to Mike, I promise you, I can do it so much better. Although Mike is by all means Olympic quality beef, sadly, he's apparently withdrawn from the US hockey team in the past few days in order to have shoulder surgery. Still, his shirtless hotness gets me in the Olympic spirit, and I would be more than willing to lend a hand (or any other part of my anatomy) to help with Mike's physical therapy.
Another Olympic hardbody worth mentioning is most certainly American downhill skier, Bode Miller. What I like about 6'2", 214 pound Bode is he's irreverent, hot, and cocky as hell. If he decided to skip the tennis turn and jump into the pro wrestling ring, I predict he'd go far. He has a nice sense of humor and is, quite literally, willing to let it all hang out. Towleroad snagged a nice catch from Funny or Die, featuring Bode buck naked (yet censored, those bastards).
What I don't care for in Bode Miller is that he seems like a bit of a dick. I realize that this is a fine distinction I'm drawing. Cocky arrogance matched with a hardbody and irreverent attitude is hot. Playing the half-stoned indestructible fratboy, on the other hand, isn't so attractive (unless he's getting his ass kicked, stripped, and spanked, in that order). Bragging about doing some of his best skiing hung over to 60 minutes, and then being sent back by the U.S. Olympic organization to officially apologize is, from start to finish, a little dickish in my mind.

Who's next? What muscled cold-weather hunk is waiting to grab hold of my imagination and drop kick it across the ring? Can't wait!

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