Okay, now what was behind last night's Without a Trace episode? That was over the top nuts ...in a good way. There were few moments kookier or hotter than the end of the program when Enrique Murciano and Anthony LaPaglia sang "That's Amore" to a recording of Perry Como. Is this Jerry Bruckheimer showing us his softer side? Or is his secret fantasy watching two lipstick lesbians kiss (while being serenaded by Enrique Murciano).
What can I say? Enrique tilted his head, arched his eyebrow, and pursed his lips in the hottest HOTTEST HOTTEST way (like only those boys from Miami can). Oof. And woof.
Enrique Murciano is hot. ...as well as the guy with the sweet baby face to take home to meet the family at the holidays. I can practically hear the sigh of every gay boy from his gym to his barista at his favorite cafe. Then again, I always had a thing for those Miami boys.
Ya gotta have something to dream for, right?
That's part of the charm of Sex in the City, I guess. Underneath all the funny sarcastic New York one-liners and one night stands, there's the promise of a happy ending with the guy. Or at least, the apartment. I don't know that having the perfectly appointed apartment will compensate for not having a guy, but there's something to running your fingers along a fabulous fabric. Then again, there's something to be said for the feel of running your fingers along Enrique Murciano.
Heck, I'd settle for Enrique Murciano in a trailer park. But not in Miami; you know what happens to trailers in hurricanes. But hey --who better to go through a hurricane with than Enrique Murciano?
This is why you gotta be careful what you wish for...
At least Jerry Bruckheimer put one television show on the air that GLAAD and everybody (except, perhaps for the religious right and the Gotti family) could enjoy.
What can I say? Enrique tilted his head, arched his eyebrow, and pursed his lips in the hottest HOTTEST HOTTEST way (like only those boys from Miami can). Oof. And woof.
Enrique Murciano is hot. ...as well as the guy with the sweet baby face to take home to meet the family at the holidays. I can practically hear the sigh of every gay boy from his gym to his barista at his favorite cafe. Then again, I always had a thing for those Miami boys.
Ya gotta have something to dream for, right?
That's part of the charm of Sex in the City, I guess. Underneath all the funny sarcastic New York one-liners and one night stands, there's the promise of a happy ending with the guy. Or at least, the apartment. I don't know that having the perfectly appointed apartment will compensate for not having a guy, but there's something to running your fingers along a fabulous fabric. Then again, there's something to be said for the feel of running your fingers along Enrique Murciano.
Heck, I'd settle for Enrique Murciano in a trailer park. But not in Miami; you know what happens to trailers in hurricanes. But hey --who better to go through a hurricane with than Enrique Murciano?
This is why you gotta be careful what you wish for...
At least Jerry Bruckheimer put one television show on the air that GLAAD and everybody (except, perhaps for the religious right and the Gotti family) could enjoy.
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