CHECK OUT THE "WORK UNFRIENDLY" SHOTS AT MY TUMBLR.
My pal Jason had to remind me about Broadway Bares: Solo Strips at XL tonight, which I attended following a friend's book-signing. It was pretty crowded, probably because there was only one show this time.
I bought an inseam's worth of raffle tickets from the one on the left. I lost, but still won.
The audience contained plenty of Broadway Bares-backers, including many who'd shucked their clothes in the past for the same cause: To raise cash for Broadway Cares/Equity Fights AIDS. Andrew Glaszek and Matthew Steffens were among those scouting the competition. (Okay, okay: Supporting friends. Okay, fine: Ogling friends.)
Above, a gallery filled with sexy bodies and skin, skin, skin
The program was as lean as its stars, featuring short but sweet (more like fast and dirty) performances of the variety that used to get ladies with bad reputations hauled off to the hoosegow just a few decades ago. But as always, the men of Broadway Bares managed to be racy without getting distastefully raunchy. Maybe it's because, as Broadway professionals, they never forget to SMILE.
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Matt Anctil brought on the butch for his number, in which he was a randy DJ who demonstrated a whole new way to scratch oneself. Judging by the outcome, it's safe to say he should wear pants less often.
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Patrick McCollum was new to me, and what a perfect specimen. Scruff should sign him up to do this old-time boxer routine in ads for the site. Always nice to see some body hair, but he upped the ante by bending all the way over in his white jock, which is more than just an overused descriptor on a dating app. He filled out the front as well as he filled out a considerable volume of airspace in the back.
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I'd love to give him the third degree
Timothy Hughes was a tall drink of water as a strapping fireman with a cute pussy (tossed to him from the audience to show his ability to rescue cats from trees). He had to stoop to avoid brushing the ceiling, looked handy with a hose and wound down his time on stage with something that you can cross off your bucket list: Seeing a fireman go full monty while simultaneously hat-tipping Flashdance. Oh, what a feeling.
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Does your heart-on belong to Daddy?
Mature man Dennis Stowe brought down the house with his "Who's Your Daddy?" T-shirt and "Wanna see?" (we all did) briefs. He brought an Udo Kier leer to his bumping and grinding. What a body for a man of any age...and he was one of the many who gamely strolled around in a jockstrap, foregoing the more usual tactic of ending an act with a quick glimpse of bare booty.
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I fell in love with Patrick Boyd this time. I know he's been outstanding in Broadway Bares before, but he outdid himself (love to outdo him) with his complicated number, in which he started out as a newsie then transformed on a dime to the strains of Britney Spears cooing about being "not that innocent." Along with having an absolutely flawless body from head to toe (and again, this is a man who is not 25, nor do you miss that in him), he did a fantastic magic trick with his newspaper before making all of his clothes disappear.
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You can Count on Sheldon, who is one hot Tucker
I met Sheldon Tucker when he was doing Bares prior to his run in Bring It On. Consider it broughten, because this lean machine has some seriously slick moves. His youthful enthusiasm and a carefully crafted dead-eyed stare made his turn as a vampire anything but sucky. A full moon brings out werewolves, but this creature of the night brought out his own full moon. His black jockstrap should be auctioned off, if not for charity, then just for perverted fun.
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He had a beginning, a middle and a bend.
John Paul LaPorte, my old BBares bud, did a send-up of Pee-wee Herman, recreating his movie dance moves to a "T" for "Tequila." He's got an amazing butt, so it was on display, first in sequined booty shorts (paired with white shoes and socks—very Vegas), then bursting free from a red jockstrap and then, finally, just plain on display.
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I was meeting Matthew Rossoff for the first time, and he gets major kudos for capitalizing on the Downton Abbey craze. He's got classy, handsome looks, so made a great butler, one who looks like he could really clean your clock. When he wound up his act naked as the day he was born, you had to consider yourself served. Now THAT is a weekend, Maggie.
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If you can't join 'im, lick 'im.
Birthday boy James Brown III made us feel good...and we knew that he would. He squatted on a chair, licked his outstretched leg and spanked himself with the very same utensil that would've been used to serve his birthday cake. That would earn him a "C" from the city for unsanitary practices, but it's an "A" overall in my cookbook.
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You could never smuggle this sex-bomb onto any plane.
Peter Nelson is a world apart for me. Ever since seeing him at Broadway Bares, I've found his dashing, hypnotic good looks hard to forget. And now, after seeing him strip while attempting to make it through an airport metal detector, I'll never complain about the TSA again. Note: Don't try to pass through wearing a leather harness. He revealed a bit more than he intended while wanding himself, but it was still magical. He should think twice about participating if they ever do a slave auction to raise money for charity. I'm just putting that out there.
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Wish he'd given a tour of his cockpit. (And for the record, Daniel: Yes, I have seen a grown man naked.)
Appropriately, he was followed by Daniel Robinson, who made for a squeaky-clean, corn-fed pilot. Replete with gold hotpants and a black jock underneath, he may or may not be able to safely land your plane on the Hudson, but if not, what a way to go.
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Picking a wiener...I mean, winner!...with Jerry Mitchell.
It's all relative, but Sieber is pretty fuckin' hot, even fully clothed.
Buff-again hottie Christopher Sieber came out and started "Rotation," but it was the least fun one I've ever attended. Too many chairs to try to avoid, and too few people actually coughing up money. I may have "disrespected" the dancers by snapping photos, but at least I stuffed $20 bills in their gear (and I never grope, even though Sieber told us it was cool to do so).
Nelson & Rossoff were in the pink.
Rossoff's sequined shorts will look great on Fire Island.
McCollum is a real golden boy...one of my favorite shots!
What an incredible piece...he starred in.
These guys made looking easy look easy!
The Man Event: Mr. McCollum has too nice a smile to be a real boxer.
Sheldon: "I can't take quarters!!! Do I look like a washing machine?!"
If any of them didn't get laid tonight, they should sue.
Patrick reminds me of pre-scruff Tom Chase meets Billy Bean (the baseball one). Just gorgeous!
Highlights would be how above-and-beyond friendly both Patricks were and GULP Peter's subtly sheer shorts. Where are those shorts...right now? These are the deep thoughts that Solo Strips can leave you with.
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