May 19th, 2010
Photocrashers: Get Out Of My Dreams And Into My Photoshop Software
Yet, we are never victims of our own hot ‘baller browsing guilt. There is no simpler pleasure than allowing ones eyes to roam unflinchingly across a fresh hunk of hot manflesh. Oh yessiree. But then fate sees fit to pee in our pool. Again.
You see this photo above? Victor Valdes. Near a gate. So far, so comforting. But there’s a small problem. No disrespect to Andres Iniesta, as a footballer and as a man we admire and love you, but ya mind steppin’ aside? You are spoiling the smoke show.
We tend to relieve the pressures of our daily lives with a bit of honest and intense objectification of men. However, this simple pleasure has often been ruined by a pesky detail or imperfect human. On that note, we’ve had a little trawl and come up with a few other irritations for your consideration. Consider this an Ode to Photocrashers.
Even the world’s most powerful people can render a hottie useless with a simple snap of their unsightly mugs. At left, Australia’s Prime Minister, Kevin Rudd, has singlehandedly stolen 81% of Lucas Neill’s photo thunder from down under.
Takin a page from his earlier club teammate, we pity Leo Messi. Granted, he may be the most brilliant player in the history of the universe, but his criminal fashion offences in this photo are so distressing that even David Villa’s soul patch is obliged to join in the stony face.
Other habitual photocrashers? Ronaldinho and Franck Ribery instantly spring to mind.
Every time summer rolls around, we clap with glee at the thought of seeing Figo in a Speedo on a boat, Ronaldo in his itsy bitsy swim trunks by the pool or even Cesc taking a bite out of the Big Apple fully-clothed.
But never in our wildest dreams did we brace ourselves for ghostly creatures of the sea.
There’s no polite way of saying this, but here’s our best efforts: Andrey Arshavin doesn’t hold a flame to Aitor Ocio. And although it’s not just the Miami Beach water’s fault, it’s a big cause for Arshavin going shirtless. And looking as such. His pale thighs and tummy pouch would not be out if he was roaming around Londontown; but he ain’t.
‘Ballers on breaks are not always as exciting as we previously thought.
Under-armour is our universal enemy, this much will always be true. And as long as players continue to wear base layers, the clear “money shot” will forever evade our eyeballs. Oh, how we wish to give Robin Van Persie’s base layer seams a tear and watch them unravel in agony. A very hard, red-mark-capable thigh slap would follow.
Cristiano. Darling. We forgive you for the shirt even if our readers don’t. We can even cope with the awful footwear if the restaurant is expensive enough. But WTF is with those trousers? Teflon? Waterproof? Which natural disaster did WeatherBug tell you to prepare for?