Beefcake ain’t what it used to be
It’s about time Hollywood gave us poundage plus men, the ones with rounded edges, us can’t-remember-the-last-time-I-saw-my-belt types some respect!
One by one, from Hollywood to the Hamptons, men have liberated themselves from the flat-stomached emo-boy reign of terror. Over the weekend in Westchester, U.S. Open enthusiasts cheered for Phil Mickelson, the golf crowd’s non-Tiger Woods favorite, whose previous winning record coincided with a softly expanding waist line and what one observer near the 18th hole described as “a sweet pair of man boobs.”
Meanwhile, at the movies, New Yorkers escaped the heat to watch Jack Black’s ample ass cavort in stretchy pants in Nacho Libre, and Vince Vaughn’s gutty hotness argue over the semantics of wanting to wash the dishes in The Break-Up.
And on the streets themselves, it seems that everywhere you can see a girl, power-yoga’d into the holy size zero, walking hand in hand with a guy who clearly never met a cheeseburger he didn’t like.
If a paunchy Vince Vaughn can get Jennifer Aniston in real life, perhaps there’s hope for me! Well, maybe not with Jennifer…
Sure there’s hope, one just has to catch a Jennifer Anniston on a (particularly humiliating) rebound.
Its Ironic but gurls tend to find large men attractive and some men, not I, tend to have a thing for the biggg bootie.
Two words: Patrick Norton. ‘Nuff said.