Diego Costa just slid into Glenderful's Shit List like he slides into defenders—hard, unapologetic, and leaving everyone shook. He's not just playing the game; he's rewriting the rulebook, and honey, he's giving gas . Born October 7, 1988, in Lagarto, Sergipe, Brazil—a dusty street-football kingdom where legends are forged in flip-flops and fury. Named after Diego Maradona  (yes, the Argentina-Brazil beef was real, but Papa Costa said, fuck it ), he's 6'2 ft, with US size 12

Listen up, kittens—landing on Glenderful’s Shit List isn’t about who’s got the tightest bum, the hottest Insta, or a spot on Kendall Jenner’s speed dial. It’s about aura. It’s about legacy, nerve, and a quiet confidence that makes lesser men sweat through their linen and leaves you throbbing with reverence. This isn’t a bad boy versus gentleman cage match—it’s a vibe, a Glenderful-certified je ne sais quoi  that hits like a fever. And today's inductee? He’s not chasing trends

Life’s a relentless, pulse-pounding dive into the raw, unfiltered chaos of our souls, and I’m not here for the shallow shit. Sure, a chiseled jaw and a sculpted body get my blood pumping, but it’s the energy  that hooks me—vision, depth, that quiet confidence that screams “I own this.” I’m not drooling over gym rats flexing for clout; I’m craving the ones vibrating on a higher frequency, the men who move through the world with purpose, leaving you wet with awe. And holy fuck,