By On the occasion of our 20th anniversary
By Gustavo Arellano
By R. Scott Moxley
By Alfonso Delgado
By Courtney Hamilton
By Joel Beers
By Peter Maguire
By Charles Lam
We were cruising (get it?) through the Angels website with only one thing in mind: Which of our newest Angels would become the one whose poster over our bed would get smeared with our sloppy girl-kisses? Since Troy Glaus left, we haven't had a proper hunk (and Glaus, actually, was only gorgeous on the teevee; in person, he was oddly reminiscent of wallpaper, but with less personality). Instead, we had all those twitchy, squitchy pitchers who looked like they did bad things with women's skins in their mothers' basements. Sure, Darin Erstad was delicious for his derring-do, but he wasn't much to look at. Bengie Molina was fat. Adam Kennedy has a pencil neck. And Vlad the Impaler looks like one of the STDs on that great Dave Chappelle muppet sketch. You know the one, with the herpes and the crabs grabbing on your pubes? God, that was great.
Speaking of crabs, have we found any young men we'd like to take out to the ballpark? Maybe a couple.
And never forget Brendan Donnelly. On television, you can't tell how gorgeous the journeyman pitcher is: he looks like a more constipated No Neck Joe. In person? He's the kind of pure man who could give you night sweats. The fear kind, that such beefcake beauty exists, not the good kind. You ain't gorgeous enough to get with that.