Wednesday, September 30, 2009

Grindr Part Duex

Alright family members, skip this blog! That means you, Mom. here goes another installment of salacious grindr accounts.

So yesterday morning I stir from my slumber, reach for my iPhone, and turn on grindr. I lay back down with my phone next to my ear waiting for it to load. With sleepy anticipation I waited for the reassuring "BA-LA-LEMP" tone that means I have a message. I was not disappointed. Eyes half closed and mouth half smiling, I yawn /streched and savored the moment before finding out who my potential suitor was. Lazily I prop myself up on one elbow and check the message.

"I need you to open up my pussy again."

Well that certainly got my attention. It was from a person with only a zip code for a screen name and no pic. I had no idea who it was but the "again" implied we had met. Well more than met, apparently I had opened his pussy before. After I went to the toilet to spit out the vomit that was about to overflow out of my mouth. I replied, "u don't have a pic. Who r u?" to which he replied "im M. u came over and played with me and P" Oh! yeah yeah yeah, now I knew who he was and I'll get back to how we met the first time later.
He went on to ask if I would slide my manhood "into his cunt". Oh Lawd! No need for ipecac this morning. After emptying all the bile in my stomach, plus a few dry heaves for good measure. I responded, "Sure come over." I almost stipulated, no more reference to female anatomy but I thought, "how much more is he really likely to say it when we get started?".
the answer to that was MUCH more than I could've ever imagined.

So M arrives looking very professional. From the get go he starts with the dirty talk which I find to be comical, annoying, or some combination of the two, 99% of the time. It's all done in this fake hoarse whispery voice that imagine is what Demi Moore would sound like in a library. More women's anatomy is mentioned usually following verbs like 'wreck', 'abuse', 'pound' and the ole standby 'open'. I'm doing the "la la la I can't hear you" song in my head. We get inside my apartment. What you think would happen, happens. I have to keep some mystery! haha. So this guy has the worst ADD, which I already knew from out first encounter. he's wanting to take pics, role-play, I don't even know what else. he was still using that raspy whisper that I couldn't hear if I wanted to. Then he broke from that voice and asked in a normal, enunciated voice...

"What's your address?"

Without thinking, I gave it to him. I mean he already had it but I wasn't realizing why he wanted it again. Apparently in the time I was tuning out his mumbling and we were taking dirty pics with his iPhone and sending them to his other fuck buddies, he had also invited one over.
"he's in a cab. can you let him in in about 5 minutes?"
The angel on my shoulder said, "Tell him to call him and tell him not to come over!"
The devil reached over and stabbed the angel and said, "Let's just see how this plays out."

I go to let the guy in. he seems to have the whispery dirty talk affliction too. at this point I'm not even attempting to conceal my eye-rolling and heavy exhales. He gets inside and I think what I saw when he was naked sums up exactly what this guy is all about.
TRIBAL TRAMP STAMP.
Do you even need to know more?

The two of them are going at it and their 'pillow talk' sounds more like a pillowcase full of snakes. I'm happy to lay back and let them just use chez Sparkle Magick as a sleazy, rent by the hour, no-tell motel. No such luck, I get roped in. Mercifully they both are already late for work so it gets wrapped up quickly. That encounter fizzles out which is why I'm leaving you in wacky nonlinear timeline sort of way by telling of our first meeting, last. I'm going to be lazy and cut and paste it from an email with a few modifications.

I chat up this guy on grindr. he says he's "playing" with a friend. well you know the only response to that is "need a third". so I jot down the address and head over. I don't even know either guys name but I know what they look like naked from an email he sent (which is smoking hot btw). i get to the 2 story penthouse and a clearly high homo in his tighty whities answers the door. he looks like the pic on grindr but zombified. he leads me downstairs to his lair were I meet guy 2. I hadn't seen a face pic of this one but he was beautiful. very pale blue-green eyes with longish dark hair. he looked kinda like a prettier younger Vincent Gallo.

we all get naked and I'm ready to throw down. guy one says "hold on". "yeah" I think, "get the lube and condoms now before it breaks up the flow", or "get a towel so we don't mess up you beautiful apt." but alas he was not fetching said items but instead busted out the glass pipe full of meth. this gentle reader is where things got really dark.

I'll spare you the details but it was offered to me and i refused. I have to admit I pulled all my resolve and will power up from deep within to turn it down. it looked SOOOO good! even with seeing them tweaked out, the smell, the sound, I wanted it bad. sick huh?

so what i can say is that there was porn playing on a big screen, porn on the computer along with windows of hook up sites open, cameras, toys, still on grindr. tweakers need lots of things going at once. they both would stop occasionally and we'd have to sit in silence while they called their bfs and tried to act like they weren't high and having group sex. well eventually I realized this party was going all night, maybe even all tomorrow night, or even just blur into next weekend that's what that world is like. so I left. well there's a gross story about that. I'm not sure how delicate your sensibilities are.

anyway I get home and I'm thinking, "how does a tweaker live in that luxury apt. I wish I had tried to find out his name so I could google him". then I look at my computer. the email he sent has his name. I google him and here's the kicker...drumroll.... he's a children's book author and creative director at a major children's academic publishing house, formerly holding a very prestigious position at a famous children's network! haha. your children are being taught by p'n'p whores! (ed. note, I list the names in the email. it's a kiki!)

when I got home I
immediately rinsed with listerine! i wanted to erase any trace of them. as I'm standing naked at the bathroom sink swishing and gargling. I look down and think "well it couldn't hurt" then I stand over the toilet and douse my cock and balls with listerine. AAAAH! the antiseptic tingle was a cleansing redemption. hmm the tingle is getting stronger. PHEW! that *IS* bracing.... FUCK!![hop/dance around the bathroom] that burn lasted at least an hour. I wonder if it did anything? either way it felt like a purifying act of contrition.

Okay I intended to write about my same-sex couples salsa dancing lesson but it's too soon. The humiliation is just too raw. haha. Check out Linda James' blog, New Every Day to read about it. I feel like she took a few liberties but I'll be giving my side soon enough, so check it out.
~A


Tuesday, September 29, 2009

more hair....

I had 2 other vids on the last post and tried to have 2 on the "experiment" one. how do I post multiple vids? can anyone help me? I don't know what the fuck I'm doing.




HAIR!

experiment





Monday, September 28, 2009

Brutal Force, Whores d'Vor, and Reconnections


Bon soir mes petites pétasses,
I just had one of those NY moments. First let me take you back years ago when I was working at one of those uptown, ladies who lunch, fancy-schmancy department stores selling hope in a tube to skeletal plastic surgery disasters. It was actually a pretty fun gig. The first day I worked there, an adorable Asian lady named Van took me under her wing. She was so sweet that I thought it was a trick. Like, what's your angle lady? Most of the people I was working with were really sweet, even if a little thick (intelligence-wise not body) There was one girl pumping Peggy Mofit realness. I was enthralled! If memory serves, she had the original Sassoon 5 point bob, stacks of lashes, heavy black liner that extended out beyond her eyes, white liner inside that and a pale apricot lip. I was working an asymmetrical coif that was very forward at the time. As with most meaningful relationships, we bonded over our hairdos. Her name was Colleen and unfortunately was already faghag betrothed to the queen at Kevin Aucoin whose name I'm blanking on. He was a kiki too. He had a gay dad and saw his dad at a bathhouse in San Fran but I digress.
My meetings with Colleen were always fun and insightful. We became tanorexic simultaneously and independently. When we saw our brown skinned selves we immediately went into our fave tips for maximum baking. She always had some cool gigs going on and we'd talk about art, fashion, how much more advanced our conceptual style was than others.
So today I ran into her. Pumping a gorge look as always (bleached feathered hair with roots, denim bolero, skin tight pants with slouch boots. correct me if I'm wrong Colleen) We got to talking about conspiracy theories, corporate America enslaving the poor, and fashion. I asked what she was up to.
"Well I'm DJing full-time now. It's been pretty hectic with the Lady Gaga connection."
When she said "lady" it triggered a memory. When she was DJing and doing all her club performances she went by "Lady" something.
"OH MY GOD! Are you Lady Starlight?!?"
"Yeah. You didn't know that?"
I surely did not know that! I mean I know anyone I'm drawn to has major things going for them but it kind of floored me that I was so clueless. Anyway, if you're reading this, good talking to you Colleen!

So Saturday was boy's night at Fuerza Bruta! Boys in the pool! I had already seen it last week during the 20at20. That's when 20 off Broadway shows are $20. I couldn't get anyone to go with me then but my friend Aaron, who is pretty much my only friend that will do cultural activities with me, was back in town. After my rave reviews, plus it being boy's night we were psyched. it's so hard to talk about it without giving too much away. There's definitely lots of the unexpected. I can say that it's standing room only and audience participation. there's a DJ warming up the crowd before and as expected, the boy's night crowd danced a lot more and a lot better!
After the show we were hyped. It really gets you pumped up. Definitely go! Anyway we go back to mine to change for our night out. Sitting on the bench in front of my building is a bridge and tunnel couple devouring each others faces. We decide that it would be hilarious to get on my intercom and pretend to be security asking them to leave. So I get on, "would the couple on the bench please remove yourselves from the premises. We do not tolerate lewd behavior".
As if I would be allowed somewhere like that. We were crying with laughter even though we had no idea what their reaction was. Or if they were even still there to hear it for that matter. Next time I'm getting someone to secretly film it. So after a little Moi Renee,Fad Gadget (shave it!) and cocktails we head out. This when I encountered the cows that inspired this rant...

Ladies, ladies, ladies... I'm talkin' RGs, genetic females, keepers of the wound that shall not heal. My heroes used to be almost exclusively female. Now it seems like the vast majority are boring bimbos. As I walked the streets (don't say it) I felt like I kept walking in on girls in the shower. the rain heightened the effect. girls teetering knock-kneed in pumps they can't walk in. Arms crossed in a vain attempt to cover their exposed cleavage. Tugging down the hem of their stretch jersey minis that were shorter than a tampon string. Now I'm no prude, I think showing skin is great but being boring is not. If you're gonna be practically naked, at least clip on a brooch the size of a watermelon. Or take a page from Lady Gaga's book (a beacon of light in a sea of baby hookers!) and wear a mask or hood. some of these girls really should wear a hood to cover their troglodyte faces.
"What's with all the fat tweens in pumps?" I asked Aaron as we passed, well, a bunch of fat tweens in pumps waiting outside the backstage door after some concert. I decided that is the name of my new band. We get to Eastern Block and kiki with Marc (DJ Tekshur) for a minute.
"Hey Marc, you wanna be in our new band, Fat Tweens in Pumps?"
"yeah! what instrument would I play?"
"bass keytair."
"ok.."
now wait for it... 3...2...1 then Marc realizes.
"wait. but I'm not fat."

it's funny. let it marinate for a while and if you still don't get it I'll explain.

Alright darlings, I'm off to grind. Wish me luck! I've got more stories to tell about that don't worry!

Thursday, September 24, 2009

Ode to Grindr



Buena mañana mis hermanos y hermanas!!!

For my third installment I've switched my settings to (dim lights, cue slap bass groove) bow chica bow wow... ADULT CONTENT!!! get ready to have those retinas scorched and keep a puke bucket handy.

So anyone that knows me, knows that I am OBSESSED with Grindr. Just in case you've been living under a rock, grindr is an "social networking for men only" app on an iPhone that has GPS. so not only can you check someone's stats, pics and chat them up, but you also can determine if he's worth walking 2298 ft to meet in person. it's just too much fucking fun! you can be sure if there is a lull in our conversation the iPhone comes out and I'm scoping out the fags in the vicinity. It annoys people sometimes but when I let them play for a minute, all is forgiven. Aaron says my life can divided into 2 distinct parts, BG before grindr and AG, I think you can figure that out. I think Aaron is a petty jealous faggot who is mad because his company won't get him an iPhone but I digress.

I know it seems like internet hook ups are the standard way to meet people but I was really late to board this train. I checked out craigslist, had connexion and manhunt accounts but never really met anyone. I had a morbid fear of meeting someone in real life and them rejecting me. My New Year's resolution for 09 was to have an internet hook up. I attempted it but it just seemed to never work out. I guess I'm just old fashioned. I prefer to stumble home with someone at 4am from a bar and wake up not knowing where I am and who I'm with. "excuse me, uh... sir. what train station are we close to? ok and we're in which borough? oh and did you see what I did with my shoes?" I've left without my shoes before and in the rain. that's a whole other story.

Enter grindr! my saving grace. only people with iPhones have it so I knew as long as I was the only one of my close friends with an iPhone I was safe from their judgment and mockery, they're so rotted that way. Haha, that's actually so not true but I always was afraid of getting spooked anyway. With this little app I just may break my phobia. Honey it broke it alright and opened the floodgates.

I really wish I had kept a log of all the adventures I've had. One thing I'm loving, that is probably just because of my address, is the amazing apartments I'm getting to visit. Doormen, roof gardens, terraces, POOLS! These are some wealthy gentlemen. My first time going to someone's apartment was at a very prestigious, famous building. I felt so trashy as I chained my bike outside peering into the posh lobby. I was moist with sweat, a little winded and dressed like I was going to the gym. I went to the doorman to be announced. I felt like he knew exactly what was going on. he probably did but couldn't care less. I pressed the button for the elevator and waited. As I the door opened and I entered, a perky (is there anything worse) woman chirps "hold the door!". that's usually my cue to hit 'door close' and throw my hands up and act like I don't understand how this crazy thing works. Little Katie Couric however was fast enough to catch it. UGH! I couldn't look her in the eye as she talked about the weather or something equally inane.

the door opens to the floor on which I'm going. I start what will soon become a familiar ritual of looking for the apt #. there it is a cracked door with no light coming from inside. I'm so nervous I want to puke. A million scenarios run thru my mind. He's behind the door with a chloroform soaked rag. He's wearing a diaper. He has no teeth. And perhaps worst of all he has a bunch of cats. I take a deep breath and walk to the door.

So a silver fox opens the door. early 40s, fit. I can tell it's a huge nice apartment but all the lights are out. "trying to keep the ConEd bill down?" Humor and clandestine lewd encounters don't usually mix I soon find out. After a probably overzealous, overcompensating romp. we laid in post-coitus comfort. I was quick to look for my clothes. Being the southern belle I am I didn't want to overstay my welcome. He assured me I was welcome to stay as long as I wanted. With the sex out of the way we started to talk. I found out that he was just out of a relationship and this was pretty new to him too. We laughed at the fronts we both put up because we thought each other expected it. He was a magazine editor that you would've heard of. I'll spill it all in my memoirs. we still have a friendly relationship but they haven't all been so smooth...

to be continued.

Wednesday, September 23, 2009

Cher prays for soldiers; in my dreams





Guten Morgen readers!
I'm just waking up and want to blog while this dream is still fresh in my mind. so I'm just going to dive right into the madness and pick it apart after:

My mom and sis go to see Cher's Vegas show. Why I didn't go is never really addressed. It's the next day and I'm in the car with them. So of course I'm asking about everything. My sis is describing the costumes, sets, etc. when my mom interupts, "Why don't you tell him about bawling at that song so that I couldn't enjoy the rest of the concert?". That is SOOO something my mom would really say. so Sis says, "Well... there was a song she sang that upset me."

hmmm, Half Breed maybe could be a tear jerker if you're biracial but my sis is a Children of the Damned whitey just like me. Gypsies, Tramps, and Theives, a variation on that same theme. Believe may strike a chord if you've been in a string of bad relationships but my sis was happily married. I was stumped.

"What song upset you?" I cluelessly asked.
"Oh it's a new song. It hasn't even been recorded yet."
Ok this is where it gets that chaotic sort of nonlinear weird dream world.
she says, "It's called 'I Pray for Soldiers' and it goes like this.."
as my sister starts to sing. I'm there with her for the first line but then I'm transported to the concert, seeing and hearing what she did.

I pray for soldiers
(then to the concert Cher starts)
That have been taken away-ooow
I pray for soldiers that have been taken away-ow
(moving montage on a jumbo screen of war scenes, machine gun tombstones with dead soldiers boots in front)
I pray for soldiers that have taken away-ow
Taken away, Taken away from me-ah
(image of a baby faced skinny soldier covered in blood with absolute terror in his eyes)
Boys must be older
to go to a bar, just rent a car but
they can be soldiers
just sign on the line
now your ass in mine

It went on for a while. I won't bore you. I should send it to Cher. it was quite moving. so I don't think there is too much obscure symbolism in this one folks. It's the classic "It breaks my heart that CHILDREN are sent off to be human bullet/grenade/missile shields". I'm going to try to keep this brief because 1) the people that NEED to read this don't even read 2) I'm pretty sure I'm preaching to the choir and 3) it's a downer (even with Cher thrown in) and 4) I gotta go to work.
this could get pretty sticky so I'm just going to leave that dream as a anecdote and a thought. It is way more likely that people who support the war do not support the troops and that folks who are anti-war care deeply about the troops.

So speaking of OTT gay icons, Pee Wee Herman was on Jay Leno last night... yowch! the old gray mare just ain't what she used to be. he seemed to be drifting in and out of the persona. lesson one children: COMMIT! not to mention the suit he wore draped. I mean what better time than in the age of Thom Browne than to wear those skin tight, too short suits. it's so chic. so disappointing PWH.

so since I'm new to this during some down time I made a list of possible topics and would love to get feedback in what interests you.
-my foray into the naturalist (aka nudist) lifestyle
-how grindr has changed my life
-heart-breaking yet funny stories from my childhood in the country
-anti-xtian rants these can be divided into several categories
-the fear of even acknowledging race and how the fear creates even more of a chasm between races
-body modification through diet, plastic surgery, tattoos, steriods, etc. and are bodies merely properties that our souls can renovate at will?
-drugs and what if any limits should be put on their legalization

I'm thinking of changing my setting to adult. you just never know when some party pooper will flag you and I don't need the aggravation. I also need to figure out my Halloween costume. My friend Aaron and I had the idea of a very high concept duo of he as Pete Burns from the Dead or Alive "Nude" album and me as Prince from "Lovesexy". we had a good laugh at how exactly we would pull it off. It's probably just an attempt to be naked (gee ya think) I'm going to try to post pics of that look if I can. if I don't figure it out, google the images. They're funny. I'm open to suggestions but if you say Lady Gaga, I may just have to kill you.


p.s. I can't figure out how to post those pics. anyone want to volunteer to give me a quick tutorial? it will make this blog infinitely more interesting.



Sunday, September 20, 2009

I'm Blogging!

Ok, after threatening for what seems like years, well probably because it has been years, I'm finally writing a blog. this will be a crude start (in more ways than one wacca wacca) but it's high time I capture the genius of my thoughts. it's like I've been pouring a bottle of 1928 Krug on the floor while Waterford champagne flutes are right next me. And as the NAACP (you never thought I'd quote them!) says, a mind is a terrible thing to waste.

I'm not going to try to nail down a mission statement or have a laser focus with this just yet. I'm going to let it evolve organically. you can be pretty sure it'll be gay. really. gay. seriously folks we're talkin' Elton John getting spit-roasted by George Michael and Liberace on a rhinestone grand piano while Rip Taylor throws confetti on them-gay. My daughter Linda has a blog called New Every Day or NED that has a genius format. she does something everyday that she's never done before and blogs about it. I kinda want to mop it! there will definitely an element of that in this blog. I will probably be a little political, a lot philosophical, and hopefully funny.

OK... phew! this is nerve racking! it's the blank white canvas staring me in face sayin' "you ain't got the goods" well I'm posting this regardless. it's my something NED. Moving on, I woke up this morning and checked facebook. Ok, I checked grindr THEN facebook. There I discovered there will be free buses from NY to DC for the National Equality March. I teared up a little. Fall is like 3 months of PMS for me folks. Don't judge. So that got me thinking about how there may be a Trannyshack bus going. I love the idea of busted drunk trannies on the road but... is this appropriate?

that's not rhetorical. I really don't know. On the one hand, there's the whole "drag queens threw the 1st brick at Stonewall" thing but that was a reaction to a police bust. they didn't get dressed up to go to a protest. Yet I think it also sort of defeats the purpose of sending a message of freedom and equality when there's a gay gestapo trying to enforce a dress code. The people that bug me are the ones that use civil disobedience to push through a noble and just cause as a selfish platform for their "look at me!" addiction.
at one of the marriage equality marches here there were 2 particularly flamboyant queens (not drag just homos) that I had seen around. Now don't get me wrong, on any given day, you could see they were gay from space but they usually still wore men's clothes even if they were in shades of lilac and fuchsia. On this day, however, they had chosen to wear tiaras and feather boas, pleather hip huggers, and all sorts of conflama straight from central casting. as if that weren't enough, they jumped on fire hydrants, blew whistles, rattled street signs, made up their own chats. I felt a rage bubbling up. Then I felt some shame and guilt. Was I being one those "straight-acting-I-hate-fem-gays" gays?!? Was I feeling contempt because I saw in them the things I try to hide in myself? it sent my brain into a spiral of questioning that happens a lot to me. I need a name for it because this phenomenon is at the heart of needing to write.

after a going through a very quick mental checklist to make sure I was being a self-actualizing personality I realized: I don't loathe them for being effeminate, I loathe them for hi-jacking this march to make it about themselves.
What's the solution? Well I'm certainly not going to tell anyone how they can dress and what is appropriate (and if you saw some of my looks you'd know why) I guess the best I can come up with is a suggestion. If you're going to the march, be yourself. not the self that's on stage or going to Mardi Gras. And it doesn't have to be the self that puts on a suit for work. be the self that's at home with close friends. if you'd put on eyeliner to have your sister over to watch Glee, then wear it to the march! you don't have to dye your pink hair back to its natural color but if you work on Wall St. please forgo the trip to Pat Fields before the march. It just looks forced.