Andy Samberg. Duh.

Andy Samberg. From the field of viable male celebrities, that's who I'd sleep with.

Noah, the architect of this blog, just invited me on board. The more homos the better, I guess, when you're trying to be as irreverent as possible as articulately as possible.

And my first assignment, I'm told, is to blog about which celebrity I would most want to sleep with. At least I think the words used were "sleep with."

Let me be very clear. My parents "sleep with" each other. To "sleep with" someone -- as opposed to, say, fuck their brains out -- is to take all the silliness, bawdiness, and kinkiness out of the sexual enterprise. To that end, I might wish to "sleep with" the most perfunctory and obvious answers to this question: George Clooney, Adrian Brody, Leonardo DiCaprio, Matt Damon.

I would "sleep with" all those people. It would be lovely and angelic. Maybe they'd even throw roses all over the bed, watch "An Affair to Remember" with me, and caress me lovingly until we finally got around to the "fun." But I wouldn't fuck them. The greatest fuckbuddy in the history of literature -- Mellors in Lady Chatterley's Lover -- has my back on this one:

"Yes, I do believe in something. I believe in being warm-hearted. I believe especially in being warm-hearted in love, in fucking with a warm heart. It's all this cold-hearted fucking that is death and idiocy."

Cold-hearted fucking. Yeah, not my cup of tea. I could easily fuck Andy Samberg, though, and am serious that he's smart enough to have probably read and loved Lady Chatterley's Lover. In the first place, he's a real person, or at least looks like one. He's about as attractive as the third-most attractive guy at the gay bar on any given night -- meaning, of course, that he's only slightly out of my league. He's a big dork. That's a good thing.

And most importantly, the guy screams kinkiness. If he's not an S&M freak already, he's about five seconds away from becoming one. I imagine Samberg as being about as GGG as Dan Savage requires and then a little bit more. How do I know this? Well, I don't. I simply hold the irrational but perhaps supportable belief that one's level of kink is directly proportional to the zaniness they project on a daily basis. And Samberg is pretty fucking zany, not to mention androgynous and gay-friendly enough to appear on the cover of Out Magazine. He'd be wild in bed. So fuck (or in this case, don't) George Clooney. Blow a totally cliched kiss at Adrian, Leo and MATTDAMON. I really don't care. People have been masturbating to Hollywood icons since the beginning of cinema. They haven't been masturbating to the guy who wrote "Jizz in my Pants."

Or have they?

If you want to pick a celebrity to fuck, you have to move to the periphery. The very far periphery. The kind of celebrity who might never lock up an Oscar, yet could -- if the stars aligned -- be locking up your dick for some good old-fashioned cock and ball torture.