सेक्सिएस्त मन अलिवे

So Esquire magazine just crowned a woman named Minka Kelly to be the sexiest woman alive. I don't keep up too much with tv and don't have much of a frame of reference as to exactly who she is and what she has done that is so very sexy. So, of course, I did a quick image search. Yes, she is very pretty, arguably even sexy. I don't know if she is the sexiest woman alive. But it did get me wondering... why did they have to qualify her sexiness with the word "alive"? I can't imagine a dead woman being particularly sexy. But then again, I am very naive about such matters.
I hope that I am not going out too far on a limb to suggest that sexiness, like so many things, leaves us with (if not somewhat before) our dying breath.
I have never been particularly sexy. I've thought about it (sex, that is) quite a bit. But I am reasonably certain that thinking about sex does not automatically make one sexy. Would that it did... would that it did.
Neither am I dashing, debonair, suave, particularly sophisticated, or hot. So sad. I wonder what it would be like to have a major magazine proclaim that I am the "sexiest". I suppose by the time it hit the mainstream press, I would already be fairly aware of my sexiness. Perhaps it would be akin to me being crowned the chubbiest, most frizzy haired, and pleasant despite harbouring barely concealed doubts about ability of humanity to overcome its obvious shortcomings guy. I would probably be a little flattered. Of course, I would think to myself, "surely there are chubbier guys with frizzier hair who harbor even greater doubts about the ability of humanity to overcome its obvious shortcomings than me." I would attribute my new found popularity to this blog and its immense fan base... of about four people (including my wife and I - just checking in to look for comments again). I would smile coyly and sign the various articles placed in front of me by my adoring fan. I would vow not to change, and then change immediately.
Probably, there is not category for 'chubby, frizzy haired, and doubtful.' But there may be a contest to be the most sardonic. I could win that... if I really put my mind to it (and had my agent making calls to all the right people). Maybe Esquire would do a full page layout of the most sardonic man of 2010 together with the most sexy woman (alive, that is) of the same year. He (me, that is) would be looking (sardonically) down at the sexiest woman (alive) of 2010. She would look up at me in a sort of sexy way. It can't imagine it would be too very hard for the sexiest woman alive to look at me in a sexy way if she really is so scary sexy. I think it would look something like this...