Ass Master

I take it that steroid abuse among professional athletes sets a bad example for the sport-loving spawn out there (I don't buy that rationale - look at me! I looked up to the Studio 54 set when I was a wee one and my septum is mostly intact...my liver is half-functional and I'm usually coherent) but I feel that I have to come to the defense of the benefits of steroids: Mark McGwire's ass.

By no means am I the Margaret Cho ass-loving homosexual. I'm rather hair and smell averse. But the first time I ever went to a baseball game - my friends and I sat behind first base - and that provided a full-on fetish-inducing closeness to Mark McGwire's derriere.

It was, perhaps, the prettiest thing I've ever seen. He was a total stud to begin with - that frisky little goatee, his arms as big as my head, his thighs, taught tree trunks of masculine power. But his ass - oh my clinching/releasing GOD!!!!!

I just stared and stared and stared and stared at it. Baseball really, really, REALLY bores me and this one game went on into 5 extra innings - but I had Mark's ass half the time....and, to this day, I cannot think of a better way to spend an evening.