Is it me, or has Ricky Martin let himself go just a l'il bit?
Never a huge fan, but back in the day, Ricky was a tasty morsel; good on the eyes. Hm. Maybe this might be the proof straight folks need to keep the delusion Papi is straight. After all, no self-respecting gay man would evah be caught out in public unkempt and be photographed lookin' "tow up from the flow up." I'm not diggin' the nasty facial hair, pasty skin, or the acne. And honey, baby blue is not your color!
"Oh Ian, be nice. Chica just had babies! Stop bein so catty."
Um... last time I checked, Ricky doesn't have a uterus, right? All Ricky did was you-know-what ina vial somewhere and contributed his DNA! So his part was done after two minutes. He had plenty of time to run to the beauty shop, get himself clipped, snipped, fried, dyed, and laid to the side. And don't he live in PR still?
Excuse me? Hello? PR? Puerto Rico... the Caribbean. The unofficial 51st state. Sun, fun, and mo' sun. The gorgeous men! (but I digress) Don't they got beaches? Tanning salons? Couldn't his significant other rubbed some bronzing cream or sumthin on his man 'fore they photgraphed this shot? To quote the immortal Lucille Ball..."Oh Riiiickkky!"
Sike! No. Lemme stop playin'. Today's Christmas Eve and is his birthday after all. When I wake up with that lump o' coal tomorrow, I'll have no one to blame but myself. OK Ricky, you know I love you. So from crazy me, to wonderful you, Happy 37th Birthday!
Just we can remember the good old days though, I posted some better snaps of you.
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