Pink! Yay!

Confession: I’ve never been much of a baseball fan. Shocking, isn’ t it? I mean, who WOULDN’T love to sit around for three hours watching strong athletic men get all sweaty swinging their bats at big, fat balls? Well, you try doing it in those uncomfortable chairs in the ball stadium – I get these strange stains in my pants all the time! (From other things, silly!) And sitting around a bunch of smelly hobos wearing two-sizes-too-big baseball jerseys and sweatpants. It’s like, I didn’t want to go to New Jersey, but here I am, shopping for fatty cuts of moo-men at the Union butcher shop! Tony Soprano, take me away!

But when me and the rest of my QE posse got to rope some brahma bulls from Boston (and make them look quite Soxy!), I got a little of the baseball fever back. In my pants! Working with such fine gentlemen, I learned to appreciate the finer things about the sport, and right now, there is nothing oh-so-finer than the Mets’ David Wright!

Guess which one he is! (Hint: he’s not the serial killer.) I usually pride myself on my composure, but watching Darling David strut his stuff, I can’t contain myself. David, you barehanded STUD, marry me a little! Or a lot! I can handle it! (Oh, you know I can!) I have to apologize if I come off way too Tiger Beat, but he’s sooooo dreamy! The way he handles his wood, the way he cradles balls when he’s playing the field (and I’ve heard stories about HIS yard work!), the way he nails the first baseman again and again and again … oh my. And he’s a switch hitter, too!

Shades of Patrick Swayze! Those bulging pecs! That catty pout! Those Divine tresses! His head in that wig gives me some not-so-angry inches where it counts. I’ll believe him in a Marc Jacobs halter before I believe Rosie O’Donnell has anything to do with Dos Equis. Really, though, it shouldn’t be surprising. After all, if he can make that awful Mets uniform work, then he’s good to go in whatever. I can set him up with a pair of gauchos, some godawful Steve Madden oxfords, a Hawaiian shirt, and a trucker hat, and he’d make Michael Pitt look like Michael Moore. Look at that tushie!

Imagine it twitching and writhing, aching to get out of those gauche gray pantaloons. I am but a hapless snake caught in its delectible charms. I haven’t seen haunches that firm and juicy since Ralph’s ride-a-cowboy party last year. If I were vegan, I’d switch to a beef diet quicker than you can say “hi, cholesterol”! A thoroughbred through and through, that David, and believe me, I know my horse meat. I’d hitch up my saddle to that Met philly any day of the week. Give me five minutes in heaven with that dreamboat, and I’ll show you why I graduated Cum Laude. Anna Benson, you Tupperware Morgana, move your curdled cream pie over – this Twinkie’s got a sweet tooth that needs filling! Let’s play pepper, David – I’m ready for the pitch!

Carson Kressley, star of Queer Eye For The Straight Guy, is a nationally ranked equestrian and a former member of the U.S. World Cup Equestrian Team.