A year off and a lifetime ahead...

Yes I'm alive.

2008-02-17T09:00:00.000-08:00

Apparently I’ve been missed … Thank you. Enough emails and personal jabs, "your blog misses you" have guilted me into an entry.

Just been trying to lay low not for the reasons some would think; but just taking my life in new directions. Not leaving the game quite yet but again changing my style a bit and definitely scaling back.

Among others, the fabulous Angel Benton has said he’s sick of seeing the remnants of his attack for six months. I think that’s mostly because he’s probably exhausted the amount of click through links he’d get off of my blog ;)

I’ll try to just do quickies to check in. Nothing quite so elaborate, I think the need to be thorough is what prevents me from doing ANYTHING half asked.

So to surmise this weekend I’ve gone with an oldie but a goodie to wrap up this INSANELY quick SF trip:

Endless Mimosas at Lime in the Castro for “second” late Brunch Saturday

Having overpriced Cabernet spilled on my favorite tuxedo shirt by Tory Mason when he didn’t win Best Performance at GayVN’s

$225

Last minute decision to leave my sluttiest (and therefore most fun) weekend of the year early and lose a night’s stay at Union Square Hilton because of greedy priceline bastards

$80

Unprecedented choice to choose gash over ass and leave SF at 9 AM to get to Vegas and see Bette Midler’s Last Dress Rehearsal at Caesar’s Palace tonight ….

Priceless

Attack on Angel Benton!!!

2007-09-27T12:39:00.000-07:00

Angel wanted me to make sure his interview after his attack was released to the world before his attacker finished the job.

(Only an inside joke, check out AngelBenton.com to understand who his characters are and other fun stories about them)

Why do all good things come to an end?

2007-09-27T11:59:00.000-07:00

“Flames to dust, lovers to friends.
Why must all good things come to an end?”
~Nelly Furtado

It’s been in incredibly intense summer for me. So much has changed, I feel like I’ve grown so much while stagnantly remaining the same. Unfortunately I’ve had rifts with those I felt close to earlier this season as well as more recently. The cliché’s of friends for a reason, friends for a season, and friends for life has never meant more to me than is has while typing this …. again … comfortably buzzed off good warm cognac, a little misty. NOT an easy feat trying to impress the cute flight attendant while he looks puzzled refilling my water glass watching me sniffle and sob “listening to music.” Little does he know I’ve just finished the epic septilogy (did I make this word up?) that is Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. But more on that later.

In the immortal words of the boy with the golden hair himself,

"lol nothing like some good old retail therapy to soothe the homosexual soul"

I stand by my theory that Century 21 has hands down beaten Disneyland (despite Angel's contentions) as the happiest place on earth. According to my receipt I saved $350.06 buying an outfit that I've wanted for for a while.

But again, according to Angel Benton while paraphrasing our favorite femme fa-trillionaire Oprah,

"Nobody ever saved any money by buying something." What does that bitch know? OK fine she’s a billionaire but as I said to win an argument earlier this summer, “money can buy you everything but love and class.”

I've been really quiet lately. Can't really say why other than the fact that it's definitely my fault. I touched the fire and despite the burning sensation I touched it again. Why are we drawn to what we know will hurt us. What causes us this sick desire for masochistic fulfillment. More importantly, how the hell do we move on with our lives and avoid stagnant repetition.

I've always said that when I stopped enjoying what I do I'll stop doing it. I always thought that if being held against my will or having my character attacked by strangers who have no lives outside of their computers didn’t make me question how much I was enjoying life, what would? OK, recoiling my claws a little bit, don’t want those coming out EVER again. I don’t like that person, I didn’t like the person I was becoming and I’ve truly realized it’s just not worth doing it.

Getting lots of emails asking how I am and reminding me how childish and petty people can be really helps but it doesn’t fill the void. When writing poetry about my feelings goes so far as to question myself, my values, my intents; that gives me reason to wonder if I’m still enjoying myself.

“It’s a bittersweet symphony, that’s life.
Try to make ends meat, you’re a slave to money, then you die.”
~The Verve

I’m thankful for all my friends and support that I’ve been getting from them lately, I’ve needed it. There’s been a void in my life that perhaps was caused by the summer. I celebrated another birthday in early August and again the celebration was low key. Not the same kind of low key as midnight burgers with Rick Munroe and Derek Ross somewhere in Chelsea Clinton (yes I know it’s Hells Kitchen or Chelsea but I like that name better) but something I never really took into account.

Instead of a failed attempt at a last minute party and arranging the social schedules of the socialites of West Hollywood to come to me or get sloshed in my honor, I arrange a quiet dinner with those who I considered to be my closest friends and it was one of the best birthdays ever. There weren’t even any gifts (that just got me thinking about all the IOU cards but I digress) and I still felt like I’d been given the world. I feel blessed to have learned early on realize that having at least two or three really close friends is more important than a 1500 some odd contact list of acquaintances one sees a few times a year.

It feels like years ago though only months but I met with a psychic in the first months of the year and discussed everything from school, to finances, to love and beyond. Frankly I think everything he said was poppycock and hooey (wow, spell check didn’t have a problem with EITHER of those, fascinating) but the one comment he did make that made sense was this:

“Screw ‘New Year’s Resolutions,’ they don’t apply to you. Anything you resolve to do in the early months of the year will only fail you. Your new year begins on your birthday and thus your decisions to change your life only have power then.”

OK, so between lunar alignments up Uranus, the position of the earth, global warming, and the current popularity of “Leave Britney Alone,” I’m under the distinct impression that my “new year” gets to last between August and October. My summer was a tragically bittersweet rollercoaster that had so many ups and downs I thought that I was in bad lifetime movie of the week.

Summer prides, exes and their new boyfriends, Gay Days at Disney, friends dealing with substance abuse, parties in the hills, new generations of mean girls, movies in the cemetery, bad reactions to laser hair removal, new friends, lost friends, remodeling my apartment, and losing my favorite roommate. Among other things this summer has been anything but dull. Yet my main cause for discord has been my feelings of stagnation. Isn’t the very essence of stagnation dullness, the absence of change? Till recently and even now a sense of boredom overcomes me and makes me feel like there’s no hope of change.

OK, depressing myself again. Silver linings, new beginnings. Oh yeah I’m happy. That’s the ticket.

BEWARE the next section is going to be made the same color as my background so that anyone desiring to read it MUST actively highlight it to read it. This is occurring because I am including references to the end of the Harry Potter series. I managed to last months while my painfully slow reading habits got through the book at the running speed of Slughorn and NOT seeing the NYtimes review or hearing any of the analysis of the book. AGAIN, YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. If you don’t want to read what happens to Harry DO NOT highlight the text below.

Thank god he didn’t die. WOW. Yeah. I had gotten through a significant chunk of the book ( a feat only possible due to the Bose QC3 headphones – must haves for all travelers ) on my way to New York so my goal was to have it finished by the flight home. Cut to me listening in parts walking around the city and finally getting to the last chapters and Harry “resurrecting” his parents and all the shmaltz that went with that. Either Jim Daly is a magnificent narrator, Rowling is an awe inspiring writer, or I’m a sucker for a sad story line. Probably all three. I was getting teary eyed walking down Eighth Avenue … with no sunglasses. Apparently this was going to have to wait.

Armed with a congac warming itself over a mug of hot water, I hit play on my iPod and awaited the end of the story that had been gripping the world for months already.

“Neither can live while the other survives.” Just when Rowling has made you think you’re an idiot for misinterpreting the prophecy along with Harry, she makes you second guess yourself again and again. Harry has so many deep moments in the end of this story from his realization of the importance of life and every beat of his heart to the knowledge that a life without feeling is not worth living at all.

In The Hours, Nicole Kidman as Virginia Woolf explains to young children why someone has to die in her writing, “Someone needs to die so that the others value life.” The same holds true in this tale. Since Dumbledore’s demise a book earlier and with gradually more important deaths ranging from Hedwig his Owl to Mad-Eye to close friends and mentors like Lupin, Tonks and Fred; Potter begins to learn the value of life. His self sacrificing efforts in the plot twist of himself being the last Hoarcrux is so powerful that …ok, so ends the book review. The book really touched me and her writing really couldn’t have come at a better time for me in my life.

As I’ve discussed before, the social reaction to “finales” of any series is much like the psychological stages of dealing with death. At first we are in denial that it’s actually happening. Then we get depressed about the topic shortly before getting angry with whomever’s fault it is. After the anger subsides we begin to bargain with the idea that whoever screwed us over will maybe have a reunion “episode” or one last book to appease the masses crying out for their blood. Finally there is acceptance. Think about it, how often does a “finale” ever live up to your expectations at first. You pick and pull and dissect thinking there were so many better ways to do it. Finally you realize that there probably was no better way and it’s for the best.

Like the route of Will and Grace and Frasier, Rowling opted to move nineteen years into the future to give us that last glimpse of dénouement for the characters we’ve grown to love. The closure of knowing how they ended up is important or else as the reader you just seem to expect more. The sense of knowing that all is well in the world and Harry’s scar no longer bothered him was great – an excellent end to an incredible literary series.

But yeah, so endeth the book review and beginneth the rant. I sincerely hope Warner Brothers does not succumb to the pressures of a youthful target audience in producing the final two movies. Just because eight year olds can’t make it through a movie without going potty is no reason to mangle literature into an adapted screen play that leaves out key plot points.

I admit that I initially made the mistake of assuming that I could see the first four movies and pick up reading the fifth. An incredibly incorrect assumption that led to hours upon hours of listening to the story of the first four installments the way they were intended. The movies are dropping out so much plot content with the purpose of a timelier edited movie. While editing is incredibly important, when parts of the plot are lost it becomes a question of whether or not the story is being told correctly.

The Lord of the Rings trilogy was epic in nature and epic in movie. Very close in theme and content and certainly striving to reach similar audiences, these movies will be remembered in their entirety because they were done right the first time. The Harry Potter series thus far has included very enjoyable movies but could have been so much more. Reading Order of the Phoenix and then seeing it in the theater was just too big of a disappointment.

Other endings and new beginnings in my life involve living with Justin Masters. We’ve both reached a point in our lives that living together was not beneficial to either of us. As with all separations there is some rockiness, I sincerely hope that we pull through and are able to look back on all times good and bad while able to laugh our asses off. He’s a great guy and will certainly go far.

With a new roommate my thoughts were drawn to a new apartment. Not literally but it’s amazing what one wallpapered wall, new furniture, a new television, a new lighting system, new art and a deep cleaning will ….. ok maybe it’s not so amazing.

The place looks completely different and I’ve never been happier. With all the traveling I do I always shudder when people ask the question, “How long have you lived here?” typically referring to the “unfinished projects” around the space. I of course have to cringe and say three years watching that judgmental look saying that I must be a pig slob from hell. Then comes the backpedaling to say that I’m never home and … yeah. It’s gorgeous and my new roommate and I have been putting the patio and new living room to use as often as possible. It’s truly like a new apartment to me.

The irony I fear is that over these three years I always predicted that as soon as I finished decorating and furnishing the apartment I’d be ready to move on. Federal Government adjusting lending percentages a full percent certainly makes that a possibility. Then I remind myself that I have a rent stabilized apartment in the center of West Hollywood and no matter HOW low that loan goes it would be cheaper to stay there and avoid Home Owners Association fees, insurance, the whole shebang. Truly a dilemma ;)

Such a dilemma that our future president Fred Thompson will be able to shed light on. You laugh now but look at this country, hell look at my state. We have the Terminator as government of one of the highest electoral votes in the country and we have wrestlers running cities elsewhere. No question Thompson’s late night talk show pronouncement of his campaign was another brilliant move on his part. America has been watching him “be political” for how many years now on Law and Order? Equal TV time is nearly impossible for the other candidates and you’re talking about a population that really does not follow the issues. At this point we can only hope that art imitates life and that when he fired the hot blonde Serena it truly wasn’t because she’s a lesbian.

From New York D.A.’s to a New York daze, Hustlaball was an certainly a unique experience in its own right. Pictures to follow, yes I know you’ve heard that one before, and some are certainly more amusing than others. Three floors of half naked dancers, nude massage tables, and a stage full of debaucherous entertainment. Bathroom orgies, Chi Chi La Rue, and exposed flesh sum up the evening. Got an incredible massage despite the paparazzi, made new friends, helped old ones, hung out with others I hadn’t seen in ages. The pre party yielded peckers of Rafael Alencar, Barret Long in dildo form, and Victor Steel in the same enchanting evening.

The following night was Tom Weise’s goodbye party. As the face of Rentboy for so long he has decided to move on to Frencher pastures. Co-hosts Angel Benton and local household drag name Shequida, a slew of performances including his own family and other artists like the incredibly bubble butted (with or without the painted on curvature) Shiko Aviance led up to a heartfelt proposal of Weise to his partner. It was a charming Monday evening at Hiro.

The rest of New York was uneventful, amusing and fun but severely uneventful. I was excited to get home for another ending for this year. The summer brings one of the greatest things one can do in Los Angeles. The Hollywood Forever Cemetery is a landmark in film history both literally and figuratively. Over the years the façade has deteriorated a bit so an idea was had to start showing old movies there. They show different movies every season – some of my favorites over the years have been Carrie, Invasion of the Body Snatchers, The Haunting and What Happened to Baby Jane. The perfect movie sitting in a graveyard though was this years finale, The Exorcist. Nothing says fun like Linda Blair shoving a crucifix in her pussy surrounded the decaying bodies of old Hollywood.

It’s put on by the Cinespia Organization varying on the weather from late May until mid September. People bring everything from blankets and crackers to full picnic baskets of gourmet meals. Regardless of what’s amongst your linens, there are always libations. The lineup starts around 5:30, they let you in the gates for the nominal fee of $10/head about 7:30 and the movie starts about nine. After all is said and done, they raise a LOT of money and a good time is had by all watching old screen stars fill up the side of a mausoleum. The best part of the evening is the melting pot of people it creates. Old gays, young gays, normal straights, “alternative” straights and of course likes of me and Jason Seachrest showing up by chance and sitting within feet of each other. What a small and magical city Los Angeles truly is.

Fall has fell, summer’s gone. A new chapter begins. Happy New Year to me.

Silly Excuse for an Update ...

2007-07-25T13:52:00.000-07:00

... and I really need to update on the past happenings but I've just been enjoying life too much to sit down and write about it :)

I've always refused to get in blog wars but recent events and their fallout have led me to realize that on occasion they can be productive. An attack entry was made about me by a colleague that was extremely skewed. As a whole, even his readers looked at the blog for the moment of anger explicative that it was.

http://reallyrusty.blogspot.com/2007/07/you-made-me-i-dont-fucking-think-so.html

Reading the comments you'll find my response to him below as well as others. I am only posting it here because it speaks to an issue I've been finding prevalent in our community -- not being able to differentiate between dating and fucking amongst friends. Occasionally in a desire to seek out love we confuse reality with idealistic interpretations of the truth. Not a big deal but something we should all be conscious of.

Since every story has two sides and I've been getting asked by too many people at this point ...

___________

Rusty. Grow up. Couldn't be said more eloquently. I won't get into a blog war with you because it's beneath me.

Instead of being a man and addressing the issue (which shockingly enough was NOT portrayed accurately by you) you have decided to be a bitch about it all weekend and then here.

Brock is his own person and we met on Friday BEFORE he got messy. For the record, he was all over me and there’s plenty of photography to do that. Unlike some people I’m not a public P.R. whore and you’re very much aware of that. When it was brought up, I specifically went out of my way to check with Tom whether or not it was serious out of concern for "hurting" you but apparently Tom either left that part out. He said, “oh it’s just another one of Rusty’s boys.” What else can be expected of someone self proclaimed the town pump. In addition to that I specifically asked Brock what your status was and he said just friends but you see something impossible given the transcontinental distance, why can’t you be a tad more realistic.

Not to get too analytical but calling me pretentious the pot calling the kettle a deep shade of ebony. I don’t know what has become of you to become so angry and bitter against people that ARE your friends. I have ALWAYS been there for you despite the slander you’ve continued with (although I always expect that in LA) and turned into libel today. Your own insecurities have you attacking the people that actually do care about you in your life and you get too attached to people for no reason. Jason Renyolds is a perfect example if your readers want to dial back your blog.

It’s time to grow up and realize that grown up people, drunk or not, are able to make their own decisions on a distinct level of consciousness. If their plans don’t involve you there is no reason to reason to lash out against them. Burning bridges over stupid misunderstandings is childish, but that’s fitting for your behavior at the moment. So again, redefine what you call an enemy and remember how much longer I’ve known you than anyone else in “this world” at the moment.

When I say I made you it has ALWAYS been in good fun and an allusion to the truth that I helped you with many of your starting clients and questions. Have I EVER gotten upset with you for seeing my clients, no? Hell I even gave you one of their numbers when you lost it and were almost missing an appointment to preserve your reputation. It’s the same concept; look carefully at the relationships you forge in this industry for what they are, sexually fun. If you want to explore beyond fun make sure you and your potential are on the same page. Why should Brock have been on a leash with you? What gave you the right to be possessive of him? Jealousy makes people do ugly things and this entry certainly isn’t so pretty.

Instead of jumping down my throat with backhanded bitchy comments that almost got you thrown out of the pool party, why didn’t you try being a man and addressing me in person to discuss things rather than composing immature attack that only makes you look petty and childish.

I initially started this reply saying a blog war is beneath me and I stand by that. If you choose to “screen” this comment I will be likely to post it because as I wrote this it touched on many strong principles worth discussing. If not that than for the sole purpose of defending myself against your libelous actions since there is no judicial branch dealing with hooker blogging.

And to waste more ...

2007-06-05T22:55:00.000-07:00

... precious time I want to thank Howard, the owner of FabScout Entertainment (one of the top agencies for adult models in the country), for these links. I'll also be thanking him for a wonderful weekend in Florida sooner than later :)

Bubble Wrap and Jesus Dress Up

{rant}

2007-06-05T21:47:00.000-07:00

An excerpt from my forthcoming book … Conversations with Exes

“What do you usually watch, what are your favorite shows?”
“Law and Order and all of its incarnations.”
“I hate Law and Order. It’s the worst show ever.”
“What about the show do you hate so much?”
“Well nothing specifically, I’ve never actually watched it.”

::insert contorted face of confusion::

If you can follow that logic I hope to receive an email explaining it; though if you subscribe to it I’m almost less inclined to want to hear from you. :) That considered, I’m as lost contemplating the aforesaid thought process as I am pondering the angry bitterness that surrounded Gay Days at Disney Orlando this weekend in chatrooms, on ManHunt, among friends, and other newsworthless sources.

What degree of jaded bitterness does it take to condemn a group of people having fun and presuming to not hurt anyone in the process. Throwing apples and oranges into the same basket at a circuit party for e-tards to eat to sustain their Vitamin C is one thing, not understanding the differential between circuit parties and community participation when one refuses to participate is a very different bowl of fruit. Such mid-west mentalities demonstrate an elitist attempt at absolution from their own self identifying cultures. It exemplifies a favorite author (Susie Bright) of mine’s explanation of society’s perpetual need for “us and them” in order to provide a personal security to feel ‘holier than thou’ in her book Full Exposure.

How many friends do we have that engage in the cognitive dissonance of disapproval for a concept of which they’ve purposefully disengaged themselves from without any first hand knowledge of any and all possible experiences? How often do people just say something isn’t their thing only based on what they’ve heard from others? What percentage of these people turn into vehement black and white thinking individuals who deny themselves the gray area that allows human beings as free thinking individuals to at least consider other points of view? At what point does our scorn for those within our own communities turn into the slippery slope bordering on the homophobia that we as a community have spent decades to fight?

Awareness is the first step in any “problem.” Alcoholics have to admit that a problem exists, emergency medical technicians have to assess the situation, and the gay community has to realize that we are no longer simply an outdated statistic of ten percent of the population. I never have a problem being myself and having fun in public, but the atmosphere at Gay Days just changes when you know that you’re surrounded by other people just like you. The smiles on the faces of gay staff (which is just about all of them) at Disney are that much brighter. Seeing a sea of red when watching the parade makes me realize that no matter how bad I look in red – I’m not the only one.

Disney may have had its trouble with the gay community in early years but Gay Days at Disney is just like any other day there, they don’t ask if you suck cock or eat pussy before selling you your ticket. One is waved in and out with the same ridiculously oversized Mickey Mouse gloves regardless of what you’re wearing or who you’re with. Of course Disney does it for the money because it would be stupid for them not to. As altruistic as we’d like the world to be, there is a sense of commerce and quid pro quo in everything we engage in. But that’s the point, Disney doesn’t go out of their way to make this weekend work, they would just as easily host a comparable event that could generate comparable revenue. It’s not a sinister plan to block out the sun, it’s a party. What’s sad are the people who attack people that produce the party and attend because they don’t have fun at the party or sadder aren’t engaged while there. That kind of self importance is taking things way too seriously and verges on pathetically transparent.

Gay Days at Disney, Pride, Circuit Parties, Gay Beaches, Gayborhoods across the country – they’re all subjects of scrutiny for those that would rather see the gay community shoved back in the closet like old laundry. But we don’t, we come out in full force and remind the world that we are here, we’re queer, and we’re here to stay. When people say there’s no need to have events in which the gay community bonds I ask if they’ve ever heard of Stonewall.

Without those founding ~~fathers~~ ~~mothers~~ fierce mother-fuckers there to get all dressed up and establish that they weren’t going to take it anymore, who knows what state of politics the gay community would be in today? Stonewall begets Pride and any other celebration in which the gays spend time together openly. There’s a time for everything, Pride is on our calendars – nobody else’s. We tell people when Pride is and whatever sponsors want to be involved capitalize on the gay dollar because they can.

Reading the book Never Eat Alone by Keith Ferrazzi gives a lot of insight into the gay power mentality, afterall it’s written by a powerful gay author. We are the biggest disposal income in this nation, we travel the most, we are certainly some of the most visible cultures and sub cultures. The premise of elitism and again establishing “us and them” is inherent in all human nature. What Ferrazzi teaches is that establishing a foothold in whatever community or connection you have is the key to success.

Judging yourself through the eyes of others is obviously not something to strive for especially from an aesthetic point of view. But there is so much more to being part of a community than simply self identification with it. Immersing yourself as well as contributing is key before you can truly understand what events like Pride and Gay Days are all about.

Pride is about acceptance, not mine of you or yours of me – it’s about accepting that by being gay you are part of a vast and diverse community. Prides and events like these are open to anyone and everyone who wants to be a part of them be they a questioning twink or a muscle bear daddy in a harness. Pride shows us that like other communities in this country, our diversity is obvious and there’s a little something for everyone. Togetherness can only happen if you’re there so get up and see your community for what it strives to be, an open forum for you and anyone else who knows who they are and isn’t afraid to admit it.

Just because some people use drugs at these events doesn’t mean that it’s the norm and expectation for everyone. Music and math have always been considered the universal languages. Solving equations at Pride is not something I expect to see often but there will always be dancing. Whether people are “rolling” on the dancefloor or just enjoying the music, one thing for certain is that people from all backgrounds are there and they’re all dancing to the same beat.

{/rant}

Oh MY God...

2007-06-05T21:27:00.001-07:00

... so fucking funny ...

Flying the Fagly Skies

2007-05-31T13:19:00.000-07:00

“Of course you’d be on this flight, in this line, and bending over in front of me,” said the deep guttural voice of someone who’s spent the past decade or two yelling above circuit speakers as he grinned standing behind me. I stood up with bags of toiletries in hand ready to put them on the conveyor belt, turned around, and saw one of my nearest and dearest circuit friends standing in the next Disneyland style row of lines at the first class security terminal at LAX.

“It has begun,” I said jokingly.
He looked at me and said, “not yet - but soon.”

There is a category in my phone just about everyone. As much as Judith Butler would strike me dead for not putting my studies of Queer Theory to use, I love categories and labels in my phone. It’s just easier to remind myself who the hell people are and what category they belong to when my phone rings with the ring tone assigned for that category of people.

We’ll call my friend James and say that he exists in the CPA category. Some friends see this and wonder why I need so many accountants; I’m comfortable, but not THAT comfortable. Circuit Party Associates. People I meet at events across the country from all around the world who I probably won’t see until the next big party. James lives in LA. We met through a friend over Lunch at the Grove in West Hollywood nearly a year before he hugged me shirtless, sweaty, and bouncing at Twilo in Miami during the White Party there. I had been going to circuit parties and such since I was seventeen and the “Boys Gone Wild twenty-five and under White Party” fiasco, not until I got that hug then did I feel I realized what it was REALLY all about.

I had originally intended to include this in my White Party Entry but giving myself structure that I am doomed never to follow just results in a backlog of unpublished material and fun stories. Now, I’ll try to make it all thematic and post as the muse allows me.

Not that I feel the need to assign blame, but being American and all it’s woven into my nature; blogger.com has inhibited me from posting the blogs I want to because of their interface. I would post more blogs and make them photographically intricate if it weren’t for the dragging the photo from the top of the blog all the way down into the text and then after that readjusting all the text over and over. It’s just too much. I consider myself more than proficient and pretty damned good at figuring out short cuts but I’ve yet to find a away around any of this so if anyone can help.

So with that said, I may just never post pictures again just to make sure I get the text out.

::insert shrill shriek at thought that nobody would actually read this if I didn’t post pictures of Rentboy Owner Tom Weise holding Barrett Long’s cock ever again::

JUST KIDDING. I’ll probably start posts that are just pictures maybe with captions. Everybody wins that way :) So back to the White Party, er the Circuit Party. Thematics!!!

Another distraction, hot guys in the seat behind me “cheers”ing the beginning.
“To the beginning of the end,” I reply back.

That’s what circuit parties are to me. Planning the end and what can be taken away from the experience. The parties are about making new friends, finding community, discovering new cities, having fun. To some, they’re only about the drugs, music, and dancing. To each their own. I stay away from the drugs that are going to damage me permanently and turn me into a zombie that I’ll regret photos of in the morning. Alcohol is just mind altering enough to make me happy and I have my friends – being high on life is the one of the greatest highs of all.

The dancing and the music are always an experience in and of themselves; a sea of gay men, moving together as one – throbbing and pulsing to the music. The music winds down and picks back up after some diva wails causing cheers from the crowd and a renewed second wind commences bringing jumping and arms in the air. The next phase of music begins and the party continues to thrive and throb.

In Faggots, Larry Kramer wrote of the “walking dead” after a weekend on Fire Island as if the end did not justify the means, it was as if the drug usage and the togetherness of a community meant nothing and all he could focus on was how they got there. His inferences discussed a rising epidemic of the AIDS crisis but now a day I’d like to hope people are safer and more conscious of the dangers out there despite their fatigue.

This year, The White Party in Palm Springs was a different experience than it had been in the now five years I’ve been attending. It wasn’t going to none of the parties, it wasn’t going to all of them. It was just being there, bouncing from clique to clique and just having a good time. No schedules, no expectations.

I started the weekend in bed dying. Probably still recovering from the Rentboy Pool Party the weekend before (no that’s not a tease I’ll actually write about it) and dehydrated to holy hell. Thanks to the TLC from my circuit friends who had also arrived to Palm Springs early I was ready to go by Friday morning.

The time in the room sweating bullets gave me a chance to watch the local news and interviews from patrons of the party. They gave me perspective on the aspect that I always thought about but could never put my finger on – Tribal. Ironic that being a “tribe” member in the Jewish sense prevented me from thinking of the word. The gay men as a tribe of people sharing in the same joys, sorrows, and persecutions.

Jeffrey Sanker went on to say that he looked at the White Party in Palm Springs as Gay Spring Break. “They have Cozumel and Daytona, Palm Springs is our time to cut loose.” And when you think about it … aren’t they really the same? A bunch of half naked people dancing on the beach or around the pool celebrating a vacation, a chance to meet cool new people, and have anonymous sex they shouldn’t have to worry about when they get home. Hell, gay spring break is even more accepting considering straight spring break is usually only for college students.

Hearing these opinions and others at a little chat at the Friday pool party, it became apparent that Jeffrey knows what the weekend has always been and continues to evolve to be: a weekend where LA moves to Palm Springs and leaves the LA bullshit where it belongs. And that’s awesome.

Now White Party is about the private parties and groups meeting somewhere beside the gayborhood strip on Santa Monica. The young and pretty mingle with the original “queens of the desert” and everyone just strips off their body armor along with their clothing appreciating their time to spend with their friends.

James was only a few people behind me in line at security, I could only imagine what was in his luggage and was happy to not fear guilt by association. I knew I was fine, (cock-neyed) “I’m a good girl I am!” I managed to pack six days of clothing at a minimum of two costume changes per day into a roller, a duffel and a laptop case. Let’s see if the luggage nazis say anything about three pieces THIS time (they did -– I swear going through the motions is the most idiotic thing in the world). Does me shoving my laptop bag INTO my duffel (not even zipping the duffel mind you) make a frickin’ difference? Apparently it does.

Nevertheless, my heart skipped a beat when I saw TSA’s newest instrument of evil. It reminded me of that “bionic nose tool” from Richie Rich that could figure out what something was based on scent:

(computerized) “Tri nitro toluene.”
“Darling I remember that from chemistry class, isn’t that”
(shrieking) “TNT”

Yeah, and there was Mr. TSA about to open my toiletry bag with poppers in it. He stuck the futuristic looking electronic gun into a small opening of my toiletry bag, released the trigger, and handed it back to me. Apparently the flammable poppers aren’t a threat to anyone or the cap was closed tightly enough. Although I would die laughing if the bottle broke on the plane and everyone started getting REALLY horny.

I decided to wait for James and he verified for me that this flight was “that flight.”

“This is the only non-stop from LAX to Orlando. Otherwise my ass wouldn’t have been up at 5:15 this morning. Every queen in the city coming into Orlando today will be on this flight.”

Sure as hell, ten minutes in the Admiral’s club yielded Brett Henrichsen and Manny Lehman, two of the most highly sought out circuit DJ’s in the world, having wine at seven in the morning. I guess it’s noon somewhere … in the middle of the Atlantic. Soon after and slowly but surely, “they” filed in with their Tumi’s, Louis’, and Prada’s. The traveling circuit queens. Only the best of the best for rollaboards to the elite status qualifying gays.

Chatter about “did you get upgraded? They said first class checked in all 22 full” ensued.

“Shit, why couldn’t I have gone to the Grabby’s last weekend to go from Gold to Platinum,” said one exasperated traveler with Dior Sunglasses on despite the June Gloom in May skies.

“Wouldn’t have done you any good,” started a fellow traveler wearing torn jeans and a fitted tee. “I’m platinum and since I didn’t check in till this morning I am number three on the list.”

James leaned in, “NOW, it has begun. Keep your eyes peeled for claws and hold onto your boarding pass.”

I immediately texted my friend thanking him for sending me an email to check last night which led to a reminder to check in the night before. West Hollywood clones started walking in more and more setting down their luggage for bloody marys and mimosas. Hugs were exchanged among most and it almost seemed like the Admiral’s club was the first venue for the weekend thousands of miles away from host hotel.

We decided to walk to the gate a little early since we knew that overhead space is limited when EVERYONE has packed their luggage into carry-ons and would be storing it in the overhead. They had just called for first and I was approaching boarding pass in hand but was appealed to wait by friends rifling through their bags for slips of paper equitable to their seats on board.

I did my best Miranda Priestly impression and channeled Madame Streep, “Why is no one rea-deee….” trailing off and clicking my tongue.

We had a good laugh and boarded. Shortly after, a very gay purser handed me my first mimosa of what has been sthrees four five (hey, gimme a break it’s a long flight and I had a lot of proofreading) at this point. Oh quiet, NOW it’s 1 PM in Orlando. I mean Manny was drinking at 7:15 PST. C’mon! Was he trying to close the bars in Hawaii or something? Actually with his travel schedule, LAX could have just been a stop on the way to Orlando.

Ahhh the traveling life. The mileage upgrades, the mile high club, the mysteries of why the vacuum in the lavatory is a more efficient hoover than I. I love flying the fagly skies.

The BodyBugg

2007-05-24T17:44:00.000-07:00

I have a new toy. No, this toy didn't come in my two boxes of sex toys delivered earlier this week causing my roommate Justin to roll his eyes in terror -- I love adult toy store liquidations!

This toy came because I'm the easiest target for every new infomercial, fad, and latest gadget gizmo available. The BodyBugg promoted by 24 Hour Fitness' Solution's program seemed like the niftiest new idea in enforcing dieting and helping attain fitness goals.

Essentially it tracks your body heat internally determining your rate of burning calories. You then periodically upload this information to the BodyBugg software available on the internet which works with a program that tracks what you eat giving you an "in/out = net" equation.

Wearing the bodybugg 24/7 isn't required but wearing it as often as possible is recommended. Will report more on it later as soon as I learn more about it but my favorite fact of the day is that I burn 2.9 calories/minute while jerking off as opposed to the 1.3 calories/minute while sitting on my ass doing nothing... wonder what a good romp is gonna burn :)

Not an entry but ...

2007-05-15T14:59:00.000-07:00

.... yes a big post is coming!

Meanwhile ... this is just wrong on so many levels ...

and on a happier note ... Ding dong the witch is dead! LOVED this image. R.I.P. (Rott in Purgatory -- hopefully it's worse than Hell and suits the acronym)

Thanks to Jeff on the daddysreviews.com message boards for this hillarious pic. So happy to see that creativity is quick in this nation :)

Hee hee ...

2007-04-26T11:23:00.000-07:00

... just got this in my email this morning in a buyanhour.com advertisement.

Who knew that you affected them but they didn't affect you?

2007-04-24T22:33:00.000-07:00

As promised pictures to come...keep checking back!

Two meditations and themes for the next couple entries. In essence, three weeks of notes turned into pages and pages of rhetoric that to me seem irrelevant and shallow. But that’s kind of how the last couple weeks have felt for me.

I’m finding myself at a cross roads in life and I feel like it will take being hit by a bus to get pushed forward. A state of complacency, while nice, is no place to be as there’s never a sense of growth. Going through the motions and losing all my drive, at times it feels like I want to find new meaning in being alive.

The first meditation I’ve been focusing on comes from the song “Who Knew” by P!nk. I’ve always enjoyed her music. The past couple albums from her have been really awesome and actually carry meaningful messages in the lyrics. It’s great that she’s managed to stay popular while singing songs that people can actually think about. As a great example, check out her music video for “Stupid Girls,” a social commentary on everything wrong with pop-culture in this country.

Anyway, a blurb from her song Who Knew …

If someone said three years from now
You’d be long gone
I’d stand up and punch them out
Cause they’re all wrong
I know better
Cause you said forever
And ever
but, who knew.

When someone said count your blessings now before they’re long gone
I guess I just didn’t know how
I was all wrong
They knew better

Does anybody else keep everything that could even potentially become a memory? I’m a pack rat. I think I save everything that could ever be used again. I don’t know why … growing up with grandparents from the depression era … not wanting to be wasteful … so many possible issues. The point is I have a problem and I’m getting help for it. Justin and I had a decluttering expert come to our apartment. She said I had the second most clothing of any male she’s encountered, the most underwear for a male, and hands down the most “product” for one person she’s ever seen in her life let alone in her years of being an “expert in decluttery.” If you’re in NYC or LA you need to check her out if you have this issue. Worth every penny at rates that even make my jaw drop.

She helped me … wow tangent. OK I’m back. I save everything including old calendars and planners. Hell I have my first assignment book/agenda from my first year of undergrad. Three years ago I would never have guessed I would be on a plane getting served a warm cookie on my way to DC sending champagne back to my roommate. Three years ago I never could have imagined I would be as happy with life as I am. Three years ago, I was still speaking to my best friend while we planned our schedules for the next quarter and then our summer plans together. We were inseparable and I haven’t spoken to her in two years now. Why? I couldn’t even remember at that point and neither did she.

We reconnected over the past week. She’s doing well and we had lunch which turned into dinner at the same restaurant. It was the anti “Will and Grace” series finale reunion. In that episode, Will and Grace have to be brought back together by a zany scheme hatched by Jack and Karen involving full body casts and a hospital and … yeah, ok, back on target. Apparently my mind is as cluttered as my apartment. Anyway they reunited and said they’d stay in touch and didn’t end up getting together for another 20 years when their kids went to college together. As serendipity as that scenario was, I didn’t want it happening to us. We met at Dolce for a late lunch. They were asking us if we were ready to close our tab around 1:30 AM.
As we got through our meals, we came around to realizing why we hadn’t spoken. Apparently we were both doing too much chatting about each other without the other present. A mutual friend of ours was playing both sides out of jealousy for the time she and I were spending together. We buried the hatchet in many dishes but our favorite reason to reunite was sharing Dolce’s desserts.

Realizing how trivial the reason we parted was got me thinking about another of my favorite quotes to consider the past few weeks:

"People will always talk about you, especially when they envy you and the life you live. Let them... you affected their lives, they didn't affect yours." ~ Anon

It’s incredible how two short lines of text can give you an entirely new perspective on life and a little self introspection can lift a burden off your mind. You affected their lives, they didn’t affect yours. WOW. The adage about people only talking about you out of jealousy is a very old theory and in most capacities a universal truth. When coupled with the latter part of the quote it just makes that much more sense. There are those I’ve envied on some subconscious level for whatever reason and would occasionally talk about (good or bad) because I was interested in possibly living their life. When I stopped having any interest in being them, I had no desire to talk about them, to make a comment, or to even get involved. These days, my theory with that in mind is taken from the great Bonnie Raitt, “Let’s give them something to talk about.”

I’m going to start by talking about Priceline.com since it’s definitely something worth the chatter. It’s been around forever but is by far one of my favorite travel sites these days. The trip I’m finishing in DC (blog eventually to follow) had me staying at a gorgeous four star boutique hotel in an awesome area for $110/night while the hotels’ rack rate was $329/night for the dates I was there. My trip last month to Toronto allowed Priceline to bestow upon me the gift of a five star hotel in the city center for $65 CAN/night.

Toronto was beautiful. Though a little chilly at times, the weather was beautiful and crisp providing a wonderful atmosphere for a family affair. Though I’m not from Toronto directly, a part of my extended family lives there and I always feel more than welcome when visiting. The out of towner gift basket they have waiting in the room alone is worth the trip. It’s almost like being at the Oscars before certain do-gooder-celebrities who shall remain nameless decided to start auctioning off the basket contents sending a flag to the IRS ruining it for everyone else. /rant

My first night in town I laid low and had my own tour of the city. Used the good ol’ standby ManCunt to look up some local boys and make friends. When I found someone I felt was genuine I had him over to grab a quick bite and head out.

We ended up at Remington’s, Toronto’s primary gay male strip bar, where I’d been before. It was just sleazy enough to be the perfect welcome to town evening. The talent jumped and gyrated around the stage showing off their ass…ets. Looneys and Tooneys as one and two dollar forms of currency in Canada did concern me a bit. In America the strippers tend to get a lot of dollar bills and short of wearing a change fanny pack, (which would be heavy and clutter the “outfit”) I was interested how they make their tips because people don’t seem to hand out fives so readily.

I guess I never realized last time how often the dancers disappeared upstairs for private dances. After a few performances I decided that one of their new dancers Richie was easily worth the $20CAN/song fee in the private areas. I prayed for a super long circuit remix.

No such luck as all songs there are four minutes give or take a few seconds. He tried to play the game of “two songs” because we got into the room as a song was ending but I looked at him with that look to say “I wasn’t born yesterday.” The “dance” was quite enjoyable and his butt is simply inexplicable. Rock hard and smooth as a baby’s butt, his body could have been illustrated in much the same terminology. He had that army brat military disciplined Czech boy look. Unfortunately uncut but fortunately I know that from being up close all too personal so all’s well that ends well.

The old adage goes that one smokes after good sex, some people smoke after sex in general. I’ve always enjoyed a glass of ice cold nonfat milk after sex. Good for me? Yes. Easy to do on vacation without a mini-bar? Not so much. While I was in Paris I learned that not being a walking chimney was essentially an insult to Parisians everywhere. I decided that if I were going to be bullied into smoking I’d choose something that I couldn’t get “addicted” to out of sheer practicality. Thus I opted for Cohiba’s mini cigarillos. Damned Cuban Embargos.

In Canada there is no embargo nor are there unreasonable limits placed on Nestle. In Toronto I picked up my two vices, Cohibas and Nestle’s Coffee Crisp candy bars. Yes, it’s official. I came out of the closet and am revealing my hidden secret – I have a sick obsession with Coffee Crisps and without them I might very well perish. They’re slowly making their way to a city near you but meanwhile one needs to seek them out by the case online. A very dangerous option.

Another reason I like being in Toronto is because the only other family members of my generation in my age range live there. While I’m perfectly happy not having siblings it would be nice to have someone in the family to sympathize with when I bitch about aunt so and so or uncle farts a lot. One of my cousins and I got to play Will & Grace all weekend and it was a lot of fun.

We developed a game the first night at a hot spot in Yorkville called Lobby. We saw a waiter that was incredibly hot and started fighting over who’s team he played for. She insisted mine because he was too cute to be straight. I said he was hers because he was paying no attention to me despite my obvious flirting and kept focusing on her. Finally I just got frustrated and called him over engaging him in conversation:

“Who has a better chance with you?”
“Sooorry?” (I love Canadian accents)
“If one of us were to ask you out, who’s more likely to see you naked.”

He laughed and walked off. Ten minutes later he brought us our “check” which my cousin tried to fight me for in an effort to play good host to the out of town guest. The waiter insisted that this check was for me to take care of. Next to the check on a piece of receipt paper was his number, what time he got off work and a subtle joke about being a bottom. I’d never been happier to lose an argument.

My cousin used this turn of events to crack up at what was in the folio, gloat, and stick her credit card in.

“So now that I know who you’re doing tonight, who are you wearing to the festivities tomorrow night?”
“Jil Sander Suit”
“No, who designed your tux though?
“Tux? It’s a Bar Mitzvah. What the fuck would I need a tux for?”
“Oh, crap. You really should read the invitation (as she pulled it out from her purse as it was her reference card for the weekend), see? ‘Black Tie Encouraged.’”

I love how encouraged means required in Canada. This just meant a trip to go shopping which is never a problem for me especially when the exchange rate (no matter how small) was in my favor. After all, how much trouble could I get into shopping for a tuxedo shirt?

Famous last words. Richmond, one of the main streets in Toronto, was on fire causing the better upscale department store “The Bay” to be closed due to smoke being drawn into the store. We ended up at the slightly more crowded Eaton Center. We walked the floors and shopped to our hearts content. When I’m out of town, I try to shop at places that I can’t typically find in my area but there was no sense in skipping perfectly good Canadian Eye Candy when A&F was right there.

The cousin and I went in to be greeted by a beautiful baby face bubbly bubble butted bulging biceped bit of boy waiting at the door. Gorgeous everything with enough tattoos to be a bad boy but not enough to lose a clean cut quality. He engaged me in conversation first and my cousin got annoyed thinking that she was doomed to be surrounded by hot gay men for eternity. But he was into muay-thai which sent off straight alarms for me and I saw her eyes brighten up.

Give or take he gave us his life’s story about how his tattoos signified a new beginning and he used to be a bad boy and he was getting a new start on life. Then he showed us another tattoo that spelled out his last name in ornate Chinese style characters. He did a lot of flexing and invited us to give it a squeeze. ::melt:: The tank top he was wearing didn’t leave much to the imagination nor did the fitted shorts hugging his butt. Needless to say someone needed to be ridden like a stallion but my cousin was too embarrassed and just wanted to shop. He didn’t seem interested so after a little actual shopping in the store we said goodbye and left.

After I had acquired the shirt and tie combo that would turn a very upscale suit into a tux we started making our last rounds through the mall. As we passed Abercrombie again, I told her last chance (knowing she would rather be dead than shop at Eaton again) and she should get his number. When she didn’t respond I went in and told him that my shy cousin wanted his number if he wanted her to have it. He couldn’t give it to me fast enough. I told her that I expected any and all details. True to her breed a lady never tells but apparently they’re still seeing each other.

Oy, I’m feklempt. I’ll give you a topic. Rhode Island is neither a road nor an island, discuss amongst yourselves.

That night was the big soiree. Only news to be reported was that we played our, “who’s more likely to see you naked” game again with one of the photographers who had consistently been taking shots in our area. His response was to show us a wedding ring and tell us there’s a baby on the way. Ironically enough he didn’t take any more pictures of us again that night.

In hindsight I realize the game still was never up with gay marriage being legal in Canada.

The next day was the day for most of the out of towners to go home but I was sticking around. That gave me a chance to corrupt my favorite cousin. Last time I was in town I tried to take her to Remington’s with me only to find out they had a no females policy except for the Ladies night they had once or twice a week. I wasn’t passing up the chance to bring miss prim and proper to the den of debauchery.

We arrived and there were women scattered all about. After a couple drinks at a slightly removed table and she had acclimated herself with the establishment, I moved us to the front row which is appropriately named “pervert’s alley.” Richie was dancing and he apparently remembered me because he kept walking by our table.

A “blessed” Cuban gentleman was dancing in a g-string on stage while my cousin sipper her Cosmo. As he removed his anal floss he began to flop his penis up and down rather close to my cousin’s nose. That line from Clueless about balls flying at a nose came to mind. Her only response to the gentleman,

“That penis is entirely too close to my face at the moment. If you plan on using it in the future, I suggest you take a step backward.” Nobody can accuse her of being crass.

Then, a very hot boy that was dressed like one of the bar-backs came to the stage in order to do the typical job of squeegee’ing the mirror covered in sweat between performances. Half way through the chore, he turned around and gave an award winning prep school smile that only the blond tanned all American (yet he was Canadian) boy next door could give. He was then introduced at Rocky. He eventually began peeling off clothes proving he deserved that title with his rippling torso. Perfect body with a little fuzz and a huge cock, the boy worked the stage like nobody’s business.

At that point I had been under the impression that most of the dancers (especially the ones worth while) were straight. Any eye contact I disregarded for flirting in hopes of making money. After an amazing dance routine that could only have been performed by a straight professional or a gay man, I assumed that he was the latter since a professional wouldn’t be working there.

He was making rounds around the bar later and we decided to play our game despite having both already seen him naked. I asked,

“So if we were both to buy a dance with you, who would get further in the private booth?”
He laughed and put his arms around us, “Well, considering I promised my girlfriend not to give private dances to other girls – looks like you’d have more fun than she would.”

We chatted a bit more and he had a brain which was refreshing. He told me about his business venture which I’m not sure if it’s online yet or not, naughtyandnicepaddles.com. After another drink I got my cousin a dance with Richie since I had enjoyed him so much but figured she’d have more fun with the straight boy and he’d enjoy himself more as well. I opted to take Rocky for a spin.

I’m without words except to say that I really enjoy lapdances. That boy apparently had training on how to be gay behind closed doors and could grind like nobody’s business. And I’m hard … hold on … mmm k.

So shortly after that I put my dear cousin in a cab to bid her adieu with plans for dinner the next night before I left. After that, I met up with some more ManCunt boys and went to a Billiard Bar in the gayborhood. Following an extensive amount of flirting, we began to plan the three player pool game called cutthroat to determine who would inevitably be bottoming first. Thankfully I’m really good at pool so after beating them both the first game they teamed up on me in the second game. It ended up with me being in the middle which is always hot. Oh Canada!

So the next morning I woke up a little groggy either from lack of sleep or too much sex, couldn’t tell. As I made my way to the bathroom I noticed a bill slipped under my door. I thought to myself,

“Don’t they only give you your bill your last day?” …. “SHIT!”

Somehow I’d mixed up my days and dates and was flying home MONDAY instead of Tuesday. Me = Chicken with my head cut off. But I made it to the airport with time to spare so it was overall a VERY successful and enjoyable trip to the North East.

What was really cool about Toronto was that I got to make money doing what I would have been doing anyway. No not that … or that. No really, think more pedestrian … like joggers. I was working out in the hotel gym and a slightly more mature woman approached me asking if I was an in house trainer after I helped teach someone an exercise on the cable machines. I told her I wasn’t but had been in the process of earning credentials for personal training in America. She told me to sign her up for the next session and I asked if she was kidding. Apparently she only works out with a trainer and is lost without someone telling her what to do. Her husband was just as lost without her telling him what to do so I booked two personal training appointments while I was there on top of everything else.

With that perfect segway, here is a variation of the workouts I did with her for this edition of

(Training Tips Image)

Chest, Shoulders, and Triceps

Incline DB Press 4 4,8,12,16^
Smith Flat Bench 4 4,8,12,16^
Cable Crossover 3 10,10,12
*Seated Overhead DB 3 12,12,12
*Alternate Front DB Raise 3 12,12,12
*DB Lateral Raise 3 12,12,12
RVS Pec Deck Fly 3 10,10,12^
Tricep Dips 4 8,8,10,12^
Machine Overhead Extension 3 10,10,12

1 Minute between sets
1-2 Minute break between exercises

* means that these exercises are supersetted.
For example, in this case Seated Overhead Dumbbell Presses, Alternate Front Dumbbell Raises, and Dumbbell Lateral Raises are Supersetted. ONE set involves doing 12 reps of EACH exercise … 12 12 12 x 3. So keep that in mind that you need a weight you can do all that with without stopping.

^ means try to push out a few extra reps if possible

The first two exercises are extreme drop sets. Four sets with increasing reps. Start with the most weight you can do for four reps. Wait two minutes, take off 20 – 30% of the weight and do the next set. Repeat till complete with all four sets.

These exercises will prove particularly helpful to people getting back in shape like my roomie. He’s been hitting the gym now that we’ve gotten a supplemental membership at something a little more affordable – the 20-Whore-Hour-Sit-on-This in West Hollywood. He’s looking really hot right now and getting his body into go-go dancing shape. You MAY be seeing him on a box at Mickey’s soon so keep your eyes peeled. Meanwhile, here are his latest pix and contact info if you needed a reminder.

Speaking of boys with cute butts, I have a new one in this blog’s

(Fresh Faces)

Adam Marks

310.584.7629

5' 10" 148lbs Hazel/Brown 9"c

xxxadammarksxxx@gmail.com

Adam Marks is one of those boys that you always wanted in school but never even bothered to approach because all he did was talk about pussy. He’s definitely straight but has that nifty.org appeal of, “well maybe after a few beers.” He’s readily happy to cross over the bi-party line and suck cock while having quite the endowment himself.

The boy is VERY well hung and the pictures you see here are him soft. It gets thick and juicy to that perfect size where it takes some work to get it down your throat but once it’s there it feels like you’ve just put that last bit into a 1000 piece jigsaw puzzle. Unfortunately with that perfect butt of his he says that bottoming won’t ever be an option but I’m definitely skeptical. He’s a very willing and great top though.

Personality wise, Adam is very intelligent and can hold his own in any conversation. He’s a great guy and very friendly. Give this guy a call because he’d definitely show you a great time. Adam was actually referred to me by my own “Mama Hooker”. Mentoring would be pushing it but he’s definitely been an inspiration in this industry and it’s always been fun hearing his old war stories. With a two generation seal of approval, you can’t go wrong getting in touch with Adam Marks.

Another boy I’ll be checking in on and reporting on in the near future is the newly Los Angeles transplanted Jason Renyolds from San Francisco. I alluded to our evening a little while back with a picture of him strapped down to my bed stark naked and yes, the evening was everything it seemed to be.

After picking him up from the Brandon Baker estate affectionately known as the Porno Palace, we went to see the movie Premonition starring Sandra Bullock and Julian MacMahon. I’m a big fan of both but more so Julian for his work as the “Source of all Evil” on Charmed and his starring role again as the “Source of all Evil” on Nip/Tuck. ::insert laugh:: OK fine, so plastic surgeons aren’t evil but they certainly make those of us mortals feel shitty about ourselves. How hot was it to see him get put in his place by Mario Lopez in the shower that day … let’s recap. Mmmmm. OK moving on.

We got to the movie and got some snacks realizing we shared a penchant for chicken apple sausages at the Arclight theater. In line I dealt with what had to be one of the ditziest girls in all of LA (think Stupid Girls a la Pink from above) who was in a HEATED argument with her boyfriend over the fact that there were SEVEN plagues on Egypt and only seven holy commandments. Calling her a shiksa goddess is the understatement of the century. After I explained to her about the seven deadly sins and the 10 plagues she seemed to understand only to get upset that she got popcorn butter in her hair when she flipped her head to the side in bemusement.

There were four of us in the entire theater. The Arclight in Hollywood allows you to choose your exact seats for the show. I guess they figure being so close to the Pantages it’s only fair. Jason chose two in the far back corner and I could only assume why. I figured out why rather quickly when my pants were around my ankles and his head was in my lap.

After a couple oral exchanges that didn’t violate the no talking policy laid out by dancing candy before the previews, I reached my climax which is more than could be said for the movie. Unfortunately because of the trailers, one knows almost exactly what is going to happen, how it’s going to happen, who it’s going to happen to and quite literally when as they show you the calendar that she maps out of all of the above.

The movie was a little more horror’ish than the suspense thriller I expected but it was nice that it had a message. Even predicting the future doesn’t mean you need to change it. Things happen for a reason. Some times it’s better to let things happen and live for the moment rather than focus on what may or may not happen. The one thing that wasn’t IN the previews stems from the moral so I won’t give it away.

On the way back we stopped for Frostees because they are one of my favorite toys in bed. Yes Frostees. You have not had good sex till you’ve used a Frostee in bed. Wendy is not the innocent school girl with pig tails you might think, she’s had an alter ego from the beginning. When we got back to my place, Jason started going through my goodie drawers and was happy realize that I was about as vanilla as the chocolate delectables we had brought home.

Here’s a reminder of that picture from the evening. Let’s just say it was a memorable night and Jason is an awesome guy. People in L.A. are lucky to have him in town and those who aren’t should get here and experience an incredibly tight and talented ass attached to a sweet southern gentleman.

And now what you’ve all been waiting for … the Rentboy Pool Party!

Next time! (these are just the teasers!)

Damned X-Tube

2007-04-03T17:56:00.000-07:00

My husband seems to not be appropriate for X-Tube or something so they took his video down. Hopefully THIS one stays up!

And yes the Blog about the pool party should be up soon ... this should keep you busy until then ;)

Not cute ...

2007-04-02T11:41:00.000-07:00

So over on the message boards, a thread arose asking to caption the image below. I opted for my own version of the immortal cheesy gay comedy quote:

Ms. Coco Peru: "Have you ever gotten [gonorrhea] Gabriel? It burrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrns!"~Trick

But just in general .... OW

It's gonna be ...

2007-04-02T09:24:00.000-07:00

the WICKEDEST WHITE PARTY EVER!

( speechless )

2007-04-01T19:11:00.000-07:00

Dear god in heaven ... I kneel before thee ... I know though I walk through the valley of ... hummunah hummunah hummunah ...

OK. I've found MY future husband, what about the rest of you?

(typed with one hand)

Premonition ...

2007-03-30T13:03:00.000-07:00

... last night I ~~saw~~ tried to watch the movie Premonition but I kept getting distracted. Who knew that my personal premonition of the evening would come to fruition. More to come ... literally and figuratively.

Stolen from ...

2007-03-30T11:54:00.000-07:00

....Angel Fucking Benton.... which was stolen from Brandon Fucking Baker

A mother and her son were flying Southwest Airlines from El Paso to San Diego.

The son, who had been looking out the window, turned to his mother and asked, "If big dogs have baby dogs and big cats have baby cats, why don't big planes have baby planes?"

The mother (who couldn't think of an answer) told her son to ask the stewardess. So the boy walked back to the flight attendant and asked, "If big dogs have baby dogs and big cats have baby cats, why don't big planes have baby planes?"

The stewardess responded, "Did your mother tell you to ask me that?"

The boy said, "Yes, she did."

"Well then, tell your mother that there are no baby planes because Southwest always pulls out on time. Have your mother explain that to you."

I fell out of my bed I was laughing so hard. Thanks guys :)

Parodies a Plenty

2007-03-27T19:59:00.000-07:00

To give you an idea of what happens in my apartment during moments of SHEER unadulterated boredom -- this is what happened today:

Justin and I both have a flair for the dramatic so we enjoy quoting lots of movies and occasionally breaking into awful over the top songs. Today was definitely no different. Typically our favorites are Troop Beverly Hills, First Wives Club, and The Devil Wears Prada. Musically Justin has been breaking out into renditions of Effie White from Dream Girls. Personally, I can't carry a tune in a bucket -- but I do what I can to keep up.

Anyway, he flounced into my room onto my bed (mine is higher up and more comfy so he apparently prefers it) while starting with the "tweaked" first line of a favorite Disney song of ours, "Poor Unfortunate Souls" from The Little Mermaid.

"The only way to get what you want is to become a hooker yourself." Banter about other words for different parts of the song started and after the dying laughter stopped we were searching out a template to re-write the song.

DISCLAIMER: SATIRE PEOPLE. SATIRE. I know there are people out there that love to rip me a new one whenever possible or hold things against me. This is all pure humor meant for people with the ability to laugh at themselves. Nothing is meant offensively and it pokes fun of people on both sides of the fence. If people that I respect their objectivity find offense in it I will gladly take it down and make an apology. I can totally see how some MIGHT get mad at it but it's all a parody in good fun.

Before people go attacking Justin and I, mainly me, lighten up and enjoy the song for what it is -- a parody of one of Disney's best known songs geared toward the escorting community. There are so many aspects to this community, there are social perceptions of what it is and what it really is. There is companionship and there is "just get down to it" sex. I don't think of anyone negatively and I certainly do not distribute a client blackbook.

DISCLAIMER II: As someone has pointed out to me, not EVERYBODY (though I find this hard to believe) has heard Disney's Song "Poor Unfortunate Souls" so a link to the YouTube of the original is at the bottom. It will be quite difficult to understand the music and beat of the song without it.

And without further ado, I give you ....

"Poor Unfortunate Whores"

ADLER

The only way to get what you want is to become a hooker yourself.

FRESH MEAT

Can you do that?

ADLER

My dear, sweet child.

That's what I do. It's what I live for.

To help unfortunate poor folk like yourself.

Poor twinks with no one else to turn to.

I admit that in the past I've been expensive

They weren't kidding when they called me, well, high priced

But you'll find that nowadays

I'm mentoring my gays

to suck off, get on their backs, and maybe top

True yes

And I fortunately know a couple clients

It's a black book that I always have possessed

And lil’ twinkie, please don't laugh

I use it on behalf

Of the lawyers, the doctors, and the rest (they love it)

Poor unfortunate whores

In debt, in need

This one longing to be richer

That one wants to get the car

And do I help them?

Yes, indeed

Those poor unfortunate whores

So young, so new

They come flocking to my bedroom

Crying, "Clients, Adler, please!"

And I help them!

Yes I do

Now it's happened once or twice

Someone couldn't raise their price

And I'm afraid I had to bounce them on my pole

Though I’ve never heard complaints

I had cause to use restraints

On those poor unfortunate whores.

Have we got a deal?

FRESH MEAT

If I become a hooker, I'll never have a chance at a career in acting or politics again.

ADLER

But you'll have your cash, heh heh. Life's full of tough choices, isn't it? Heh heh. Oh, and there is one more thing. We haven't discussed the subject of payment.

FRESH MEAT

But I don't have-

ADLER

I'm not asking much, just a token really, a trifle!

What I want from you is - your ass.

FRESH MEAT

But without my ass, how can I-

ADLER

You'll have your dick, your pretty face.

And don't underestimate the importance of fellatio, ha!

The men up there don't like a lot of blabber

They think a twink who chit chats is a bore!

Yet in bed it's much prefered for hookers not to say a word

Have him cum, and then my dear you’re out the door!

Come on, they're not all that impressed with conversation

Most clients will avoid it if they can

But they’ll dote and swoon and fawn

‘Til accounts are overdrawn

I’ll teach you how to work them here’s the plan!

Come on you poor unfortunate whore

Go ahead!

Make your choice!

I'm a very busy hooker and I haven't got all day

It won't cost much

Just your ass!

You poor unfortunate whore

It’s grand, go screw

If you want an easy life, my sweet

You've got to screw the troll

Take condoms and some lube

And go ahead and sell your soul
Daddy, Ozzy, now I've got him, boys

This whore is on a roll

This poor unfortunate whoooooooooooooooore

Prada and Gucci

Come winds of the Hollywood Sea

Vuitton and Calvin Klein

Max out American Express

La Dolce to me

Now ... suck!

FRESH MEAT

Aah ah ah .... ::mumble:: ::mumble::

ADLER

Keep sucking!

So again ... here's the original if you need the music and context ;)

::yawn:: So it's been SLIGHTLY overdue

2007-03-23T00:27:00.000-07:00

I apologize for this blog taking so long to get out … I will do my best to write more often and promptly. In addition I also apologize for not writing the apparently long awaited Part II of the Rentboy Cruise. I have the notes so it will be a thorough entry in the next week or so.

“Life is too short to wake up in the morning with regrets. So love the people who treat you right, forget about the ones who don't and believe that everything happens for a reason. If you get a chance, take it. If it changes your life, let it. Nobody said it'd be easy, they just promised it would be worth it.” ~Anonymous

The escorting community lost several of its members in the past month. Tragically, Both Lynden Thomas of DC and Jason Rylee ofBoston died before their time and they will be missed. It’s not my practice to dwell on the details or eulogize especially when I wasn’t as close to either as many others were. However, I will say that my experiences with both were always positive and they were wonderful spirits with so much life ahead of them.

As we come again to the anniversary of the HooBoy’s passing it is my deepest hope that the three of them are on a cloud somewhere discussing old times, making fun of our occasional pettiness and enjoying a heavenly cocktail of their choice as they enjoy eternity. Rest in Peace.

The quote above symbolizes a consistent reminder of our mortality on this earth. As morbid as it seems, it’s an unfortunate theme constantly running through my mind. Some of my favorite quotes and meditations focus on the realization of how precious life is and how often we focus on the small insignificant things that really don’t matter. We need to look at the forest rather than a single tree. Then again there are rather large aspects of our lives that we wish we could change but it’s too late. As a result we focus on these problems and ignore the things that would otherwise make us happy.

I’ve had plenty of people in the community and the world I live in attack me for the choices I’ve made. I take solace in knowing that the choices I’ve made ultimately affect myself alone and that the only one who has the right to regret or be upset is me. Perhaps some of my choices will affect me negatively in the future but right now I’m living my life the way I want to and I’m enjoying every moment of it.

There are limits I set for myself. Pornographic movies and the like are some of them. It’s by no means a judgment, it’s just something that is a little too permanent for me. That and I’m already so paranoid about a single image of me and how it looks let alone at 30 frames per second. However, one does not need to be IN Porn to appreciate the Gay Porn Awards and enjoy them as I did....thoroughly.

San Francisco is truly a magical city and it shocks me that I have lived so close and spent so little time there. My neighbor to the north has interesting architecture, fascinating people, great shopping, and let’s not forget newly retired Jesse Dane. I arrived by plane, came in by train, and finalized the trip in by bus to his apartment. We spent the afternoon chatting and hanging out until I was ready to put my all access membership to Equinox to good use instead of just using it in LA and NYC as I had thus far.

The Equinox in San Francisco is a unique one considering its location and thus its vibe. As trendy chic as the gym chain is, this Equinox was efficient and businessy. Having taken over an old bank the outside has Rocky Balboa steps that lead into a vast open room with a gorgeous sky light and oversized analog clock on the wall. A trip downstairs to the locker room puts you in the vault with the original safe door and cubicles presumably previously used as safety deposit rooms used for locker bays. Here’s the catch. Located in SF’s financial district, like most things there hours were only slightly off. Equinox’s hours are annoying for their dues as it is, but gyms that close at 9 during the week, 6 on Saturday and 2 on Sunday … well … let’s just say I knew my weekend was mapped out for me.

Since I get asked about the workouts I do a lot I’m going to try and start (presuming I actually post blogs more often) posting my favorite workout or two from that week. It’s easy to do so since it’s already typed out and on my iPod. For all you techies that didn’t know -- yes, you can put anything on your iPod. Just make it a .txt file, and open the iPod as a drive in your “explorer” and drop the file in your notes section. Eh Voila. Next time you use your iPod it will be in your Extras section under Notes. You can even make folders under there.

WORKOUT OF THE ~~WEEK~~ BLOG

Here’s the workout I did that day that kicked my backside so to speak:

Pull-Up 3/8
Wide Grip Pull-Down 3/8
Wide-Grip Row 3/8
Straight Arm Pull Down 3/8
Laying DB Pull Over 3/8
Seated Overhead DB 3/8
Wide Grip Upright Row 2/8

(The first number is amount of sets and the second is number of reps)

I get most of my workouts from Muscle and Fitness Magazine and a few others so I apologize if you’ve seen them before. Typically though I’ll mix and match from different workouts to combine something that works for me and use it for a month.

Getting back from the gym I bid adieu to Jesse and headed downtown to the Montgomery Palace to stay with my Gay Auntie. Everyone has a Gay Uncle but I’m lucky enough to have a Gay Auntie that gets killer Starwood rates, I’m truly blessed.

Bypassing the short (and from what I’d heard after the fact from most of the stars uneventful) pre parties for Falcon and Colt, I joined up with the gentlemen that make Rentboy run in hopes of eating at Osha, a happening Thai place in the neighborhood. I got there early and put our name down for a whopping 45 minute wait – that certainly wasn’t happening. Brandon Baker immediately looked around and made an executive decision that instead of dignified Thai we would have $3 tacos – I was perfectly fine with this new revelation.

From there we went to End Up to set up for the after party. Part of the excitement there was End Up’s first fore into the adventure that is patron bottle service. They had apparently never done it before and had commitments from Brandon that there would be two patrons spending a great deal of money thus bottle service was not only expected – it would be required.

One of the patrons was the infamous RussianRob. We have been bantering back and forth for eternity and decided that if given the chance (which we were) we would meet (which we did). Needless to say alcohol played it’s part and a bottle of Grey Goose later our small bottle service party of three included Chi Chi LaRue, Jason Seachrest, and a rotating party of porn stars including a personal LA favorite Tory Mason and the infamous Trevor Knight.

He’d be far more infamous in this blog if I bothered to print a Part II of the Rentboy cruise. New Years resolution … no really … get that blog out no matter how sparse … there are some good pictures.

As the liquor flowed Rob (an east coaster) learned the ugly truth about the West Coast … liquor stops at two. We were informed that if we didn’t finish the quarter bottle we had left it was going in the garbage. Making an immediate executive decision with the realization that we couldn’t possibly finish all of it that quickly I sacrificed the remaining cranberry juice and poured the remainder of the vodka in there. Needless to say it disappointed some star guests that attempted to sit with us and guzzle the bottle. Those who were welcome received a subtle eye glance at the carafe of Cape Cod formerly known as cranberry. Unfortunately those who were welcome didn’t maintain the subtlety and simply guzzled out of the serving glass … a wild night indeed.

However, I think my most notable memory of the evening involves myself, Trevor Knight, and Johnny Hazard confined to a very small space together. Lets just say we were pressed together very tightly and the rooms temperature elevated with flash like speed ;)

Staying at the Mongomery Palace was quite the delight. It’s convenient to everything, elegant and plush, and has a great shower head. Yes, I don’t care about the room decorations so much as the shower pressure and temperature in any room. I wouldn’t call me low maintenance but my theory on traveling is that I’m in a city to have fun – not spend the weekend in the room. Rumor has it though that this Luxury Collection experience is becoming a Westin. While Westins are nothing to sneeze at, it’s interesting to wonder why the Starwood line would bring a hotel down a notch.

Sleeping in on Saturday proved problematic as the festivities of the GayVN Awards began promptly (or not) at 4 PM at The Café in the Castro. The red carpet featured a half naked man on stilts. Needless to say when I see a tall man that lean I hope and pray that the old adage about being well hung comes to mind … and he didn’t disappoint. Unfortunately he took my hopes and juxtaposed them by hanging well from the roof top and other various points of interest. C’est la vie.

The pre party was wonderful and I saw some of my favorite colleagues and porn stars. Lars graced us with his international appearance. Mr. Knight had apparently recovered from the evening before and was engaged with the falcon group of Erik Rhodes and new boy toy (toy meant quite literally when you compare them side by side) and of course Roman Heart. The Rentboy group comprised of Rusty, Andy Kirra, Angel and of course the fabulous Brandon Baker wouldn’t arrive until dessert was being served and there was time to score a few last minute rounds at the comp bar. All I have to say is those damned chocolate covered cheesecake balls were gonna be the death of me.

As we left Café, Tory and I were cavorting out the door with super hot porn star Jeremy Hall and his Fierce Dog director Jesse Kiehl. It was of course perfect timing as the rain came down and you would have thought it was a day in Oz with all the queen scattering hoping their make up wouldn’t run and their couture wouldn’t be ruined. Luckily for Tory and I, Jesse had a SUV limo waiting. Why? I don’t know. But getting in the car to drive around the corner (on one way streets mind you so it would have been eight times faster to walk) and be dropped off in front of the theater under the overhang seemed like the right choice.

Then the elitist bullshit began. The theater built decades ago seemed to revert back to extreme segregation. Everyone was allowed in the open bar upstairs; but if you weren’t the right color, the nazis at the velvet ropes un-strategically planted throughout the theater made sure that you were kept in your appropriately hued wristband’s station. This meant TRULY dedicated patrons like RussianRob who had paid $300/person was but a mere mortal for the lowest tier mezzanine and wouldn’t even be allowed to breathe in the orchestra. Happily, he was able to “insist” his way to the front area and sit across from myself and the others. I on the other hand did not wish to engage in insisting and decided to use a breach in the velvet rope to walk AROUND the nazis (no they didn’t notice) and use a strategically chewed piece of gum to stick an orange wrist band on top of my purple one that had only granted me entrance to the ground floor level but not the front 10 rows.

One of the more amusing moments was David Forrest walking in moments before the awards show started. A particularly annoying usher had been slowly but surely kicking people out of seats they had appropriately colored wrist bands for and telling them those seats were in fact “reserved” for late coming VIPs. He had knocked so many people out of their seats that some had figured out his game and others hadn’t so he would tell people to move because the seats were reserved. Those in the know told him to “fuck off, the seats weren’t reserved [and to] find some other idiot to believe that story.” The usher finally found some gullible people in front of us so the entire show was like a DVD extra with commentary from Forrest on each nominee and winner.

To be blunt, the awards show was rather dull. I’m going to try (to no avail) post YouTubes of the monologue and a rather amusing moment with Kathy and Tyler Riggs but that’s really it. Kathy was an awesome hostess and hillarious deserving every inch of her “Honorary Gay” award … mind out of the gutter people she got a rather long sword from NakedSword.com. It was especially awesome of her to go through with the show given the passing of her father just a few days before the event.

Last year at Rage it was very informal and people were throwing ice at certain directors who can’t ever remain nameless and the class level was at a minimum…. the way an awards show honoring gay porn stars SHOULD be. While the fashion was amazing it felt like the suits and other outfits were forced. Roman Heart and Blue Blake found the happy medium with white suits and full length fur pimp coats but others like Damon Phoenix almost seemed to be taking themselves too seriously. It was lots of fun being trashed in such a gorgeous theater surrounded by hot porn stars but it felt too much like the reason I was getting out of LA that weekend (the Academy Awards). What it simply came down to was a deep desire to want to leave in the middle of certain categories to freshen up a drink but the only people ballsy enough to get up from the front row were Michael Lucas (La Dolce Vita won 14 awards) and his best non-sex performance nominee Savannah of Vivid.

The rain did NOT let up during the awards show and after a quick group photo we were on our way. Seven of us crammed into a car built comfortable for four driving through the wet streets of SF each fielding calls from attendees from coast to coast asking “where the fuck is the afterparty?!?” Luckily some of us had a vague recollection and were able to find the Dungeon on a tiny side street.

The highlight of the evening for me was the hour I spent with Richard Winger trying to get the exact dollar amount used to bribe the judges into a clean sweep of fourteen wins for La Dolce Vita. The only quote?

"Dahling, I don't know what you are talking about" with a very mischevious grin. In all seriousness Richard is an amazingly sweet guy and Lucas is very lucky to have him.

The after party was awesome with boys everywhere from cages to slings to jail cells to old fashioned pedestals. Great music in lots of different rooms all made for a great culminating event of the weekend. I stayed late with the boys but ended up leaving a little earlier than planned with Jeremy Hall … although those pictures can’t be posted :)

The last day and a half ..................................................... ............................ ............................ ............................ ............................ ............................ ............................ ............................ ............................ .........................censored for the sake of national security ........................... ............................ ............................ ............................ ............................................ and I had an awesome time thanks to Russian Rob and his friends. I’m also really happy I got to meet Hayden but we’ll get to that later.

Flights were a nightmare. My friends from New York who had their flights delayed by two days, some flights were cancelled and couldn’t be rescheduled for nearly a week. Thankfully my flight was only delayed a total of two hours but it was definitely a close call. I finally got to to spend one WHOLE day at home in LA. That day was of course spent running errands, doing laundry, cleaning, and catching up on my stories but it was my day at home.

Did I mention how much I LOVED Miami last time I was there? Of course I didn’t because I never blog so my last trip went undocumented. Oh well. Did I mention how much LESS fun Miami is when you have three of your closest travel friends who are now half a step closer to Persona Non Grata status cancel on you at the last minute leading you to forfeit a fabulous reservation at a gorgeous boutique hotel at 12th and Ocean and be forced into staying at the Days Inn at 21st and Collins? ::breath::

It does suck just a little bit but honestly – you just sleep in the hotel so who cares. Now if my friend wasn’t director of Human Resources at the Setai I probably would have killed myself. Conveniently enough, the current most expensive resort in the country (the Setai) is right next door to … well the Days Inn. Offers quite the dichotomy of Spring Break vs. Spring Holiday in the South Beach area. I asked if he could get me a room at a decent price and his response:

“Can you get me a good deal on a room?”
“Oh yeah sure, I can get you half off!”
“Wow, awesome thank you! How much?”
“It’ll still be $800/night.”

Yeah no.

I still got to use all of the amenities and such so that was great. Winter Party was an awesome experience. Most of it does remain a blur but I made some great contacts there with some other escorts that I can HIGHLY recommend for future trips. Gio has one of the most incredibly perfect butts on either coast and has a perfectly toned tanned body. He and Marcel of Montreal were playing pseudo boyfriends that weekend and I can only imagine the hot ass pounding sex they were having all weekend.

The weekend consisted of the usual circuit events like pool parties and beach dances with the late night affairs going strong until the wee hours of the following afternoon. This weekend also featured some fashion shows by 2(x)ist and other American based underwear and clothing lines with models to DIE for. All, thankfully, benefitting AIDS research charities as opposed to a single promoter's wallet.

Short of watching yet ANOTHER reason to say "No" to drugs at the closing party as well as some INCREDIBLY hot boys in and out of my hotel room, the weekend is still a bit of a blur. I remember being coherent to check out the Equinox at South Beach and renting a scooter to get around town in. I also seem to remember getting pointed at for eating a hot dog (foot long if there were any doubts) at the beach party wearing nothing but a speedo. It all just kind of fades into an awesome week in the sun. I made some great friends and reconnected with a bunch of others from around the country.

In truth that’s what circuit parties are to me. Most seem shocked when I tell them that I have no problem going to circuit events and existing strictly on alcohol and redbull. It can definitely be done. It makes it easier for me to meet new people and see the country from a completely different perspective. Oh yeah, and there are always hot half naked boys sending me into Madeline Kahn mode. …

"No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, No, no, no, no, no, no, no, No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, WAIT A MINUTE … YEEEEEEEEEEEES.”

After Miami I traveled to serene Fort Myers on the other coast of Florida. Though not the most exciting place in the world it carries its share of cute guys and delicious food with picturesque views. Highlights of the weekend involve pole dancing with a gorgeous nearly bare breasted radio announcer, body shots off of a delicious bartender and hanging out in the back of an iced cream shop – yes that was a highlight.

On the way to the airport I discovered sin … Norman Love chocolate. I thought I’d had some of the best chocolate from around the world but this stuff was simply to die for. Unique truffles and chocolates with flavors like Mojito, Bellini, and Chinese Five Spice. After gorging on some at the store, I had picked out an assortment to occupy myself for the five hour layover I expected in Miami – only to leave them in my host’s car. I have been promised a dry ice shipment that I hope to receive some time before I’m invited back there.

I think the term gate check was invented to piss off people that thought they were getting one step ahead of the “process” by packing their entire trip's luggage into their carry-ons. Ever since my satirical look at the Bush/Plastic Industry conspiracy to obliterate the mile high club and make us spend more on products that we already owned in smaller sizes, I have been making a conscious effort to pack strictly into carry ons no matter how long the trip. Luckily for a trip to sunny Florida, packing just bathing suits and shorts makes that rather easy but there still is the decision what to do with those liquids.

TRAVEL TIP OF THE ~~WEEK~~ BLOG

I’m not ~~high maintenance~~ (oh who am I kidding) ~~I don’t need my entire bathroom with me~~ (hmm, that wont work either) It’s difficult to pack all those toiletries especially when they’re awkwardly sized and such.

Most people (who could use this tip) travel with a laptop/jacket and shoes among the things they bring with them WITH a bag that might contain their liquids. What if you could bring TWO one quart bags violating the TSA’s 3-1-1 rule insisting on 3 ounces in 1 quart bag per 1 passenger. I think 3-2-1 has a better ring to it anyway. Put your shoes and one of your quart Ziplocs, place your bag in between that bin and another bin for your laptop AND another quart bag. By the time (if) TSA notices they wont care anyway and they’ve kept up appearances on the first part of the conveyor preventing two bags going through at once. Eh voila, you too can be high maintenance and bring your entire bathroom with you while not having to check luggage.

Anyway, back to the evils of gate check and me being high maintenance. The same luggage that gained me the respect of the evil stuck up flight attendant in Paris is apparently (to the naked eye) too large for the overhead compartment on a regional jet. Having watched how those bags are treated and what people will do to steal luggage, I’d really rather NOT have my bags out of my control for any length of time. I want to stress to readers that gate check is NOT a requirement … merely a suggestion – unless your bag truly is too big at which point it should have been checked initially. So if you know your bag will fit, stand up for yourself and prove to the airlines that if gay men know ANYTHING it’s that we’re experts at shoveing large things in tight spaces (with or without lube).

Miami International Airport makes me feel like I’m at Ikea and won’t even be getting a decent deal on furniture or design accents. All the twists and turns and corridors made me want to seek out the architect and strangle him. What I particularly loved were the estimated times between terminals while walking. Apparently they were calibrated for the average 60 year old with a cane but the point to me is anyone that would take that long to walk those treks shouldn’t be hoofing those distances trying to get to a flight. Thus, a more efficient public transport between gates in the airport should be installed. Yes, definitely. I’ll come back to Miami when its implemented. I'll wait ....

Eventually I made it home. Luckily for me, Hayden was there apartment hunting so I had my own chauffeur service to pick me up from the airport. We caught up and talked about his new apartment downtown. He’s relocating here to Los Angeles and we’re MORE than happy to have him :) I exposed him to the evils of the Beverly Center and impulse shopping as well as the evils that are rush hour traffic in the city of Los Angeles. More on Hayden very shortly (yes, I’ve said that a few times now).

That weekend featured the one year anniversary of Popular, an event put on by the fantastically over the top socialite of this West Hollywood generation Jonathan Chang. Jonathan always has something wonderful to say to everyone and has got to be hands down one of the nicest people I’ve encountered in this two faced, backstabbing “City of Angels.” The event was a huge success with everyone Popular there and their mother. Janice Dickinson and Chi Chi La Rue had their own personal moments finally meeting and debating who had bigger hair. Boys were nearly naked. Alcohol wouldn’t stop and the music was amazing. Congrats to Popular on a fantastic first year and may there be MANY more!

Scandal in the bar world of Los Angeles. As MJ’s is taken under new ownership, magically a Fire Department/Police raid shuts down the club by …. 11:30!!??! Yes, 11:30. MJ’s has been notorious over the past few months for being the guilty pleasure of most West Hollywood residents. Why a guilty pleasure? Would you want to drive all the way to Silverlake and fight over who has to play sober sister so everyone else can get shit faced drunk and stuff dollar bills up the asses of nearly or mostly unclothed strippers? Well there’s your answer as to why MJ’s was shut down this week. Apparently the new owners didn’t know who to bribe.

Luckily to avoid driving drunk, I finally got to use a service I’ve been wanting to try forever. In the Los Angeles area (and for a small surcharge Malibu), you can call Home James to pick you up and drive you home … IN YOUR OWN CAR! Yes the service features men in suits driving up on foldable scooters which they put in your trunk and drive you home in your own car. Miraculously, they’re all named James and have British accents. Where on earth do they find these guys?

Later that week I had the esteemed pleasure of shouting cat calls via text message at an always hot Aaron Mark as he casually crossed the streets of West Hollywood into one of our chic'est sushi joints, Ari-Ya at Hancock and Santa Monica. What was he wearing? Only the finest of threads(t-shirt and jeans) perfectly outfitted for the maison du maintenant.

We caught up later and had amazing phenomenal earth shattering, hmmm … well … lets just say it was the orgasm of a life time. The boy is flawless and his naiveté to how hot he is makes him that much hotter. Keep up the amazing work Aaron! The next morning I joined him with his travel companion for lunch at Asia de Cuba at the Mondrian. Lunch for me consisted of a Mojito Chicken Sandwich which was unlike any chicken sandwich I’d ever had so kudos to that but the solo-artist star of that meal was the Chocolate Opera Cake. A thin fourteen layers of decadent chocolate and dulce de leche cake covered in even more delicious chocolate frosting all covered with chocolate fudge and caramel. I think I just gained twelve pounds describing it. Of course Aaron seemed to enjoy the lesser calorie option of plantain cake. Curses on his evil will power and eight pack abs.

So I’ve been working really hard on figuring out a way to blog effectively. There’s been a huge pressure for me to get these blogs out regularly if not weekly but it’s something that I can’t do. Maybe I’m just too verbose, too lazy to deal with images and formatting, or just too much of a perfectionist to put up anything that is not perfect quality. But my goal is to start putting up a blog weekly or bi-weekly with give or take half as much content as this entry. Occasionally I’ll blog a particular event or situation as it comes up. This way I wont feel too much pressure to put up a product that I can’t stand behind.

[ rant ] On that note – I sat at Starbucks trying to type this up and got a coffee. Since I practically live there, I haven’t paid for coffee in a couple years now between the friends I’ve made going there daily and having worked with some of them back in my Barista days. What shocked the hell out of me was not being charged by one of the new guys but how MUCH I was charged. When did Starbucks decide it was ok to sell a medium cup of coffee for $1.75. It was outrageous to pay $1.60 when I was selling it and knowing it cost them 3¢ give or take including the coffee, cup, lid, sleeve and labor. Last I checked we haven’t gotten into any wars with coffee supply countries. I mean, the “Brrr Charge” at Jamba Juice because of the orange freeze in Florida is bad enough but yeesh. [ /rant ].

Last night I attended the HooVille dinner that had to be one of the largest yet especially in the eye candy to board member (not to say that the board members couldn’t be eye candy if they wanted) ratio. We ate at the delicious Café deEtoile (affectionately known as Café Twat) at one of the main corners of Robertson/Santa Monica in the gayborhood. In attendance was a mix of message board patrons, escorts, and rentboy VIPS like Angel, Andy Kirra, BARR1965, Ben, bigguyinpasadena, Brandon Baker, EXPAT, Funseeker, JamesK, Jason Renyolds, MJ, Raul Gmanzo, and Rusty. I was too busy taking down attendees to take the minutes but it was an exciting evening none-the-less. Dinner was delicious and a huge extension of gratitude goes out to the board members for taking care of ALL the working boys despite the differential ratio. We sincerely hope that the entertainment value garnered from Angel demonstrating his clap on clap off cackle made it all worth while. Thanks again so much!

It was awesome to finally meet Raul in the flesh as well as his friend MJ who is very new to the industry and a delicious combination of punk meets Abercrombie. It was also great to run into Jason Reynolds who I hadn’t seen since the debauchery that was San Francisco.

The next excursion for our blissful bunch was Mickey’s for some eye candy and to indulge in some Ginch Gonch underwear modeling to celebrate tomorrow’s release of the movie Boy Culture, a relevant story of escorting to be released nation wide in the near future.

My highpoint of the evening beside several gogo boy’s phone numbers was yet another moment or two in private with the Gay society pages Brangelina. Yes we have our own, Benethan . More specifically they are Benjamin Bradley and Ethan Reynolds the socially mainstream hottest gay couple to grace print, TV, webcam since … well … EVER. Dear GOD YUM. OK well Ginch Gonch has in essence come out as a gay label and was smart enough to scoop them up as their spokes models before anyone else could get their hands on them … and I do mean that literally and figuratively. Conveniently enough, they’ve been in LA for appearances every time I’ve been home so I’ve been getting more than my usual online chatting dose of the two. They make a gorgeous couple and have already begun constructing a gay media empire (in my opinion) unparalleled till now.

The promotion was a huge success and underwear was thrown, drinks were bought, aussiebums (and I DON’T mean the underwear) were turned out. And the most important part of the evening … I went to sleep without packing. SHIT. Well I’m on the plane now so it can’t be ALL bad but lets just say I was looking forward to sleeping before my flight. Perhaps waking up early to pack will be a first strike on jet lag. In any respect I always feel better when I haven’t slept if there’s somebody else in my boat. To add to his list of excellent qualities, my roommate (emphasis on roommate have not and will never be boyfriends despite rumor) Justin Masters is an excellent indentured serv….er chauffeur if you need to get to and from LAX at early hours. ::kiss pookie::

And that’s where I am. I’ll try to keep these more current as I now have a good hold on how to balance everything and a plan to be more efficient. I’m going to post just this text now as it appears to be about ten pages in word …. Yikes I need to shut up. I’ll add the pictures and hopefully have the entry presentable by the middle of next week.

FRESH FACE OF THE ~~WEEK~~ BLOG

OK, there is a rule in comedy that once you use a joke three times in the same sketch you're done. Kind of like the proverbial fourth strike as a grace period. Well this is the end of this blog so I think the third use is perfectly fine ;)

Anyway, I hope to make this a regular thing. I’ve been known for representing new faces or fresh talent. Sometimes they’ve been working longer than they tell me or have come and gone. I’m going to reserve this section for three types of guys:Those that are brand new and LITERALLY have only gotten into the industry because they asked for my help getting into it, those who are just starting out and need some exposure, and those that I meet in my journeys that could use a little umph to boost their inboxes.

HAYDEN
Los Angeles
22 5'9 145 Hazel/Blonde 7.5"C
Flydude19@yahoo.com
206.841.1008

Hayden is a gorgeous new guy on the scene who has just moved out of Phoenix to pursue his academics here in Los Angeles. He has a gorgeous face and a tight lean body.

He is (to date) one of my favorite bottoms ever. The boy can take it every which way you want to give it and however long you can keep it up. What isn’t usually the case for such voracious bottoms is that he has an amazing cock and definitely knows how to use it. Perfectly sizeable length at about seven and a half inches, he is thick and succulent with an emphasis on the suck.

What makes him that much better is his laid back boy next door lack of attitude. He’s friendly, fun, and always up for a good time. He is the perfect meal companion and can speak his mind on a variety of interesting topics. He’s starting back up with school in a couple weeks but will be available for travel if the stars are in alignment.

Do not miss out on this guy! He is so sweet and I intended on keeping him all to myself but realized that he does have tuition, Los Angeles rent, and cost of living to deal with.

http://www.maleescortreview.com/index.php?file=escort_review_view&review_id=624&escort_id=106110297

Time to ...

2006-12-20T19:07:00.000-08:00

Personally I'm not sure which one I'd be going for ...

Rentboy Cruise Volume 1

2006-12-19T09:08:00.000-08:00

There must have been a convention. No wait, I just got back from that. Two weeks ago Los Angeles was overrun with boys from coast to coast and even some from across the Atlantic. Most were here to partake in the much anticipated Rentboy.com cruise – others were doing a west coast domestic tour – some did both!

Calm Before the Storm

So before the cruise I was happy to hear that my favorite duo from NYC were in town, Rick and Derek. After trying to navigate them from downtown Los Angeles to West Hollywood during rush hour, I took them on yet another exciting trip around the block (that was totally unnecessary) only to park at Koo Koo Roo. Since there was soooooo much to chat about pre-cruise and post message board we caught up over a deliciously healthy lunch.

Afterward we did a little shopping and encountered my favorite angry lesbian at L.A.S.C. Any homosexual male that doesn’t work at LASC and has been in knows exactly who I’m talking about. Nothing can be done to please her, even exorbitant impulse buying. As a result I’ve taken to being just as fake to her in the store and then waiting five paces walked out the door then turning around to catch her making faces behind my back. Maybe she’ll figure it out eventually.

Rick and Derek took me to my local workout store and showed me a new product that I’m excited about. Essentially it’s the Diet Coke of Muscle Milk. Surprisingly the company that makes and over-markets Muscle Milk protein powder makes another version of Muscle Milk called EvoPro which is essentially the same but virtually carb free so thus MUCH better for you. It begs the question … why not market them both equally especially the one that their target market would prefer.

It felt like a tag team match as I dropped Rick and Derek back off at the KKR (yes that’s an R) and picked up Jason Carter to escort him up to my apartment. Apparently Supershuttle is not good at the concept of streets North v. South of the boulevard which results in me telling Jason to “fuck it and meet me.”

The Weekend Begins

A couple days earlier, Brandon Baker our Mistress of Sin-eremonies had begun sending out itineraries with arrival times, lunches, social mixers and yes ….. even his dentist appointments. The first order or business was changing Jason out of his travel clothes and into something suitable for getting hammered.

It took little time for him to get undressed and start swinging his gargantuan penis around. Thoughts ran through my head of incidentals on his room service bill staying with me that he’d have to pay but I decided against them. We got dressed in our Thursday sluttiest and headed to one of West Hollywood’s favorite weekly events known as “Cocktails with the Stars” at Mickey’s.

It was here that the weekend got off to a big thick juicy …. er … um … a big start. Our first encounter was Ben Andrews fresh off a plane from New York city and ready to be the center of attention on stage. Between staying with Jason and running into Ben, I didn’t think I could be surrounded by bigger dicks that night but of course Trevor Knight made an appearance to set the tone for the weekend – Boys Gone Wild.

Brandon eventually showed up with our VIP hostess with the mostess Angel Bento n and Rusty not far behind. There was more drinking, excessive photography M 2, and a particular drunken moment between myself and Johnny Hazard. I decided to inform him that his was the only dildo I had and would ever use.

A look of interest, confusion, and I’m pretty sure fear crossed his face but it resulted in him wanting my number so apparently interest won out overall.

“Come, we are ready for the floor show”

And what a show it would be. With all the characters in this group, inevitable costumes, and of course inclinations to perform -- this weekend was sure to be something out of the RHPS handbook.

One of the primary purposes of this Thursday evening festivity is to have porn stars on stage and prod them with …. questions. This night would be no different. There were a bunch of amateur straight porn stars there to look at and Ben. So of course this turned into a Straight V. Gay porn star banana sucking contest. As if there was any question who would win ;)

Soon after Mickey’s we began the pilgrimage east to Tigerheat. This yielded a great deal of drunk diversion. I don’t remember the cone being on my head but I believe it’s safe to say that this is evidence that it was there. What concerns me is that I can’t for the life of me figure out why my ass felt so sore in the morning.

We entered the Lounge where photography, though permitted, is nearly impossible. Needless to say it was a wonderful time. Rumors of Britney appearing were of for a change unfounded but if she were going to be appreciated at ANY club in LA on a Thursday night … it would be there.

Halfway through the evening my other houseguest driving up from San Diego sent me a message asking if he absolutely needed his passport or a birth certificate and ID. I didn’t notice the text message until half an hour later:

Do I really need them?

Uh yeah … kinda hard to get in and out of the country without them.

Shit … I have 2 turn around. See you at 3.

AM OR PM?!?!?

AM

The Morning After

Somehow myself, newly arrived Seth Fisher, and Jason managed to pull ourselves out of bed and rejoin humanity. I dragged us to the Starbucks attached to the Ram-It-Inn in West Hollywood. I typically refer to this Starbucks as the Beach as most Los Angeles/West Hollywood locals would much rather come here to take off their shirts and cruise guys instead of driving the 10 or so miles in traffic to the beach. I had caffeine and was Human Again …

After a little chatter I came to the realization that I still needed to pack so we could make the boat on time. I never understood why on earth the ship left so early. Every time I take there are always stragglers who misjudged traffic. But arriving at the bottom of the 110 freeway by the end of Rush Hour is NO easy feat. When I saw someone’s itinerary of leaving Hollywood at 3:45 to get there in time I chuckled a little and informed Brandon he might want to consider leaving a smidge earlier. Apparently he took me literally on that smidge but more on that later.

Our chariot black car van complete with VIP Guest of the trip Bruce Vilanch pulled up to my apartment to whisk us away for a weekend of boisterous conduct, debauchery, sin, volume and of course lewdness – and one can only imagine what we planned on doing in Mexico.

Under my cruise tutelage, Jason and I agreed that the best option for this trip would be a junior suite as any cruise is difficult to enjoy without a balcony. As the group started to come together on board, many people gathered in our suite on the veranda to watch as people boarded the ship.

What seemed to be concerning most of us is that nobody has seen nor heard from Brandon who was bringing a gaggle of boys including Angel Benton, Kyle Aames, Alex Cross. In tow was also porn star Nick Young.

After many phone calls alternating with the purser’s desk and Mr. Baker, it was decided that Brandon would not be making the ship. This concerned MANY people but more than concerning it was amusing. As I’m sure it’s been established by now Brandon made the ship….BARELY.

Brandon and company were literally the last to board the ship. The doors were shut tight behind them and obscenities were shouted as they ran with all of their luggage since they were far beyond the loading deadline. Never the less … everyone made it on. After a day of hard work (yes getting down the 110 during rush hour on a Friday is VERY hard work) it was time to take a quick breath to relax before the cruise of a lifetime began.

As the ship pulled out of Los Angeles Harbor an adventure began. Who knew if everyone would survive? One thing was for sure -- like all weary travelers that think they got away with getting out of town unscathed, there is a paralyzing moment of realization that there was something left behind…..our other VIP Host Jason Sechrest.

C’est la vie …

Bon Voyage … stay tuned for the first night aboard the S.S.SLUT

WORK IN PROGRESS!!!

2006-10-26T10:57:00.000-07:00

Don't judge until Friday EVENING at the earliest. I'll be posting until then as this blog is a continual journey into my cruise of New England.

Going off of a topic in the message center, one must wonder if one is ever too old for something … or too young? While I love the quick week long cruises or even the weekend booze and gamble cruises, I have begun to notice my extreme distaste for longer cruises. Referring to a twelve day cruise through New England inferences two important qualities that indicate it will not be entertaining for those of us under 40 and traveling “alone.” No truly exciting ports to me aside from Boston and the upcoming trip to Portland in Maine; an outlet shopping capitol of the country. But in reality, when traveling with your family for twelve days straight … where does one find an “outlet” for other needs? Without that outlet one can become … let’s say cranky.

Everything but a tea party

I refuse to let this become a sex blog but since it’s relevant to my travels I believe it’s suitable for the moment. Boston was wonderful to say the least … I got a tour from a gorgeous freshman at a prestigious university in the area. They grow them differently here in the north east; I would love to see what fertilizer they’re using because this stuff must be top grade. He showed me the symphony, an upscale mall, the market place, took me near Paul Revere’s ride, among other delightful little sites and sounds in the city. I was surprised at how much history there was in such a condensed area of town. I did find the Holocaust memorial of clear towers with names inscribed in the walls a tad disturbing. I didn’t find them disturbing that they were located central to churches and a secular part of town, no. What I found concerning was the fact that puffs of steam regularly popped up into the chambers and appeared like smoke coming out of the tops of a chimney. I wouldn’t have considered that a particularly respectful method of remembering the lives of many killed in exactly such a fashion. Hmmm … a bit odd but I wasn’t going to let it kill my trip in Boston. It was a very interesting place and I’ve decided I’ll definitely have to do a trip there to spend some more time.

As we concluded the tour it was apparent that we were both looking forward to the next step in our afternoon on the town. He said he feared that his roommate might still be in his dorm room but he had another solution. Thank god for solutions.

Like every good gay boy in college he was a budding activist and held some sort of rank in his LGBT center on campus. In said center there was a small but ample private space that he had access to the only key to. Needless to say it was the perfect location. What else is necessary for an afternoon interlude beside a couch, a private room, and of course a bowl of condoms and lube with a sign saying “take me” above it. Together we christened the room, the couch …. the computer table, the reception desk …. well you get the idea. Let’s just say that as a self diagnosed nymphomaniac, being without sex for several days beforehand made this afternoon jaunt more of a necessity than a perk. We went to lunch and chatted him making a confession to me ... let’s just say that this confession allowed me to write off the lunch as business ;)

Yep. Nothing is confirmed yet but the young man said that he had recognized my manhunt pictures from Daddy's and he had been toying around with the idea of supplementing his student loans. I will of course keep the community updated on any progress into publicity for this fresh new face.

Little town, it’s a quiet village …

Every day, like the one before. Little town, full of LITTLE people … waking UP to say, “Bon … “ oops. Not en provence quite yet. Sorry Belle.

Boston was followed by Bar Harbour, Maine. The city is very cute and homey. Growing up in a big city like Los Angeles and really only spending my time in other big cities like NYC, seeing these small towns where everybody knows each other is actually very interesting. I had always come to the conclusion that they only exist in the movie and on TV, but it does in fact exist in this charming little town.

With nothing else to do beside know everyone in town, the only other option is to apparently become an expert in nature as everyone there seemed to be. I went on a Ocean trail hike through the Acadia National Park featured by the town and met a charming older gay couple. It was actually weird in the sense that I initiated chatting with one of the gentleman with no expectation of him being gay. I guess at some point gaydar goes on autopilot. He was wearing a brand new white pair of New Balance shoes so I casually made conversation with him about his “bravery” which somehow snowballed into why he and his partner were on this “excursion.” It was fun making new friends and seeing that gay monogamy does in fact exist. I wouldn’t call myself jaded with respect to gay monogamy but studying male biology and psychology has never led me to believe it was possible. That day in Maine was definitely refreshing on many levels … unfortunately none of them sexual. But then again, I guess that’s a good thing because if it had been refreshing on that level we may have had to start new threads for dendrophiliacs.

Paris … again

Two days ago I was in Quebec. No not “en provence” … but in the Quebec City (QC) itself. Montreal three hours away at least. Sometimes it amuses me to think about these cities that truly only exist because of cruise economies. There were a few universities in town but other than that nothing. The cruise port in QC is of the “lower” city. To get to the “upper” city where there is civilization, one must take a funicular which is by no means fun. Essentially it’s an excuse for the city to charge per person to get into the city if you don’t want to scale the mountain. The funicular is a small car that simply goes up the very steep hill in a minute or so. Weeee.

After a little exploration, I noticed something disturbingly familiar. In QC one finds it’s own version of Notre Dame and Hotel de Ville as well as Cote de Jardines and many other streets that bare a striking resemblance to the streets of Paris. It’s almost as if they’re trying just a LITTLE too hard to associate with their motherland. Everyone spoke French and appeared angry at the phrase “parlez vous anglais.” One could almost see their deep desire to roll their eyes at the question. At the tourist information building I asked a particularly friendly deskman if the entire city maintained Parisian nomenclature. He said that it was essentially the case.

“Well if there is a corresponding section to everything in Paris, can you direct me to the
Marais?”

He smiled, shook his head and responded, “I wish. You mean to go to Montreal … if you have time for three hours for the trip and each side ... I suggest leaving now.”

At that point I went in search of an internet café. Picked a good location in the center of town and planted myself for some good old fashioned people watching. A delightful ice-skating rink, a pile of snow, and a charming boutique named FuckLaMode kept me amused for most of the afternoon. I took advantage of a $6/hour internet connection to download some porn to keep me amused the rest of the trip … seeing as how the connection price on the ship is seventy-five cents per minute for a below dial-up speed … well. Yeah. So I upset a young girl with a through the pants erection looking at Dr. Mike’s latest pictures (dear fucking @#$%^ this guy is hot and I can't wait till we get a chance to meet this week)… her parents will just have to deliver the sex talk a little earlier than they expected. C’est la vie.

A day full of semen … er … sea men.

Yesterday was one of the ship’s many days at sea. I have a sneaking suspicion the crew and staff are as eager for this trip to end as I am because there is an unnerving amount of passengers visiting the medical center on board. They all seem to present with the same symptoms, stomach flu of sorts that goes away after seventy-two hours. Ugh not this again. Norwalk virus anyone? And tonight at dinner I can ONLY assume that the salt and pepper shakers will be replaced with individual paper packets. Weeeeeeee. Let the games begin ;)

On the other hand, yesterday was quite fantastic for me. After spending the morning taking over instructing a spin class (that I was paying for) because a passenger with a wheelchair fell off a Stairmaster requiring our instructor to run and help, I was feeling energized for the day. The energy wasn’t really needed because of the 90 minute deep tissue massage I had scheduled with a very attractive Bulgarian Masseur. He was built like something out of a jock Bel Ami video. He was truly gorgeous, and always staring at me in the gym. This was all gaydar.

Not only was he gorgeous but he was a raging tease. Getting down to it, he started the massage on my legs which is usually reserved till later …. ESPECIALLY during an erotic (not what I scheduled but what I was hoping for) massage. You don’t want to get someone excited and be massaging that area so quickly. Well essentially he let me know early on that this massage was going to release a lot of my tension … he just didn’t do it. No matter how much I used my feet to pull him into me he just wouldn’t give it up. That is, until he had worked my entire back and flipped me over. Despite a raging hard-on he still continued the deep tissue hot stone massage. After he finished my legs and thighs and I was practically holding onto his arms with every stroke, he started grinding he crotch into my face. Jackpot.

Conveniently I noticed he had compacted an intense sports massage into 55 minutes when I opened my eyes to find his crotch clad only in underwear just above my forehead. He had saved some time for his to work the muscles that really needed more release than others. Despite the fact that I only received 55 minutes of a deep tissue massage, I saw to it that he received far more than the already mandatory 15% tip on the check. It was a job well done.

I arrive in Portland Maine tomorrow. Finally some time to focus on outlets besides my own. Although, there were certainly some promising options on ManHunt. Keeping my fingers crossed of course.

Why are my sprinkles moving?

2006-09-25T00:01:00.000-07:00

So I've officially given up. Having been overdue for a post and having this one sitting in my "to post box" for nearly a month and working on a new one, I figured I'd just post this now and add the graphics and make it pretty later since blogger is being difficult.

So the sprinkles on my cupcakes were moving. OK, well at this point I realized they weren’t sprinkles but it was still an odd experience. The frosting of my beloved cupcakes seemed to be moving and writhing among themselves. It almost gave me the impression that the cupcakes were throbbing while chanting, “… eat me … eat me.” Then when I dismissed the silly notion that my cupcakes were communicating to me via quantum displacement, I realized that there was a single ant crawling away from my Vanilla Milk Chocolate cupcake and that the dozens of tiny moving sprinkles were in fact, an ant infestation.

Back track to my return mid summer from NYC and then a recent return from New Orleans to a home in disarray. Nobody particularly at fault beside being in a home on the third floor but still at ground level (ahh the hills … ) where ants have an easy entrance and trained nose for a single morsel of sugar. As a result Justin and I have TRIED to obliterate any form of sugar from our lives … ok well Justin is being better at it than I am but it’s still a goal. So yes, food that is ant accessible (and desirable) now must be stored away in the fridge or vac-u-sealed away in a cabinet somewhere. No more happiness, I’m stuck on the Kashi train now. Perhaps it’s for the best.

There are few major indulgences I allow myself in my life; Sprinkles of Beverly Hills is one of the ones I admit to without hesitation. While I treasure my trips to Billy’s in Chelsea or Magnolia’s in the Village; Sprinkles of Beverly Hills is, in my opinion, one of the tastiest treats in Los Angeles County and worth every calorie. And at $3.25 for each tiny little extravagance, they’re worth every penny as well … Ahhhhh shit. Going through the website looking for pictures I discovered that they delivered. What’s sad is that even at a $10 fee to be delivered the less than two miles away that I am, it’s worth it not to have to stand in line for 45 minutes in a line that usually goes out the door in the picture and curves across all the patio seating. Excuse me I have a call to make ….

Orgasms heard in the background … repetitively….
who said only women can have multiple orgasms …

Homosexuals of the World Unite ...

2006-09-19T21:59:00.000-07:00

... hell ... FLY UNITED!

I've opted to be loyal to American the past couple years. I've also accrued enough mileage this year to be only a few thousand miles away from executive platinum status with them. I plan on informing them that without acknowledgement of wrong and an apology I will personally be making an effort to look into other airlines for loyalty and elite patronage. I'm only one person but I'm hoping that the rest of the gay community sees this for the incredibly disrespectful travesty that this is. I'd imagine there are some people in this community that are in the same boat.

When I read my New Yorker today I noticed this disgusting news:
The Article

Here is a link to their customer relations feedback forum:
Feedback Forum

I urge everyone to write to American Airlines REMINDING them who has the I still believe greatest overall expendable income of any group in this nation. It's important that they know that we demand they take their responsibility to make as many people comfortable as possible in the air. The very idea that they are hiding behind a bullshit and unenforceable policy against PDA is beyond laughable.

So as I begin to recooperate ...

2006-09-05T12:57:00.000-07:00

... I feel that you everyone deserves to play America's FAVORITE Game Show ...

WHEEL ....

OF...

PENIS...

Du-da-da-da-da dadada da da da da dududu dah dah da da ... duh nuh nuuuuuh!

Here's a taste of my decadence ;)

And the winner of the blonde travel faux-paux award goes to…

2006-08-14T14:29:00.000-07:00

So a couple weeks ago we can recall my asking a seemingly average looking man who turned out to be a custom’s official to light my Cuban Cohiba Cigarillo. I believe I topped that experience today with the help of a gay flight attendant threatening to arrest me during the first leg of my flight home today.

I worship the L’Occitane’s Immortelle Cream Mask for flying as it’s a very thick creamy base and putting it on before (or during) a flight can prevent the haggard appearance one might acquire from being thousands of feet higher in the air than god had intended. You know the look: sunken eye sockets, porous skin, dryness and overall dead looking skin. Not that it’s a major issue because you’ve just flown but who DOESN’T want to look as fabulous as a Virgin Atlantic stewardess getting off a trans-atlantic flight yet ready for the photo shoot of her life.

So yeah, this little cream moisturizing mask is amazing! Just about a “thick” quarter’s worth is all you need to cover your face and neck. I stopped bringing the actual canister with me because it was heavy and bulky and started requesting the samples every time I passed a store since they have more than enough to spare. Well the sample size is like most “cosmetic” sample sizes, a little piece of plastic containing a few servings of the product. It tucks very nicely into the pocket of my backpack carry on and is easily accessible.

With our delightful new flight restrictions no gels, creams, liquids or any such family are allowed on board. Imagine my completely innocent mistake of forgetting to unpack it from my backpack. OK, no need to imagine it’s a pretty simple concept.

Well after we took off and had our snack I felt slightly boxed in by my row-mate and decided to just apply the cream at my seat. Usually I go to the bathroom to put it on in a mirror so no embarrassing white streaks are left behind. I was applying the luxuriously thick and hydrating cream when I heard (not to pull a Kathy Griffin) the gay inhale. You know which one I was talking about.

I turned to face my accuser:

“What, do I have a streak on my nose or something?”
“Do you realize you are a terrorist THREAT right now?” in a hushed overly dramatic raspy voice that only I could hear because my row mate was too busy listening to a presentation being read to him.
“Uhhhhhhh … it’s moisturizer.”
“I can have you arrested for this, give it to me immediately.”

I begrudgingly handed over my little sample size that had only been used one or two times and continued to rub the cream into my face.

“Do I have to go through the rest of your luggage?”
I rolled my eyes and went back to the computer.
Something tells me I should have flirted back with the little queen when he tried to flirt with me asking for ID while pouring my cocktail. Eh, whatever. With any luck L’Occitane will feel the economic crunch of no sales in their airport stores so bad that they universally lower their prices. A girl can dream can’t she?

Lesser of two evils or everything happening for a reason?

2006-08-14T09:12:00.000-07:00

Mmmk. So I’m finally back where this blog started … which would mean the blog is ending … wait that can’t be right. Did the blog itself even start? Yes I have two weeks of Euro-Travel etc. to catch up on but I’ll have plenty of time for that given my flight schedule today.

The theme of this quickie is about LaGuardia Airport. After the incident in England I was telling myself that everything happens for a reason. I had no idea why the fuck I was scheduled to go to LaGuardia for my departure from New York when it has NO non-stops (to my knowledge or available) on American to LAX. Then when the shit hit the fan and it was evident the bigger the airport you were in the earlier you had to be at the airport, I realized it was fate that I was in a smaller airport to be happier in the long run.

Not so. I figured what the hell, play on the safe side and get there SUPER early. So for a 2:20 flight I scheduled transportation at 10:30 A in the city to get me there with enough time to avert any issues. Any other extra time could be spent lounging in a massage chair and typing this lovely entry.

WELL … even the premium Check-In was booked to the door. Shockingly though all this extra time at ticketing left the security lines on most of the concourses WIIIIIIIIIDE open. UNFORTUNATELY my flight left Concourse C. One would expect all of American’s flights to leave the same concourse especially if they were splitting said concourse with another airline. If all of American’s flights were on the same concourse then one could deduce their frequent flyer’s lounge would be in said concourse. So much for deductive reasoning.

Apparently despite the major flight and connection cities being in concourse C, the Admiralty Club is naturally in concourse D. This of course meant that after going through security in C and having one of my favorite porns scrutinized by an amused (and I think secretly gay) security agent, I had to leave said security area and now go through D.

This usually wouldn’t bother me as I have a gotten traveling (and security check points) down to a science until today. My typical travel outfit is a t-shirt, shorts or pants depending on the weather, and thin soled flip flop sandals (no matter what the weather). No belt. No keys. No sunglasses. Cell phone already stored in carry-on. The only fuss I make at security is taking the laptop out. Otherwise I’m typically ready to walk right through.

Now apparently even my flip flops are under scrutiny because magically they now have the ability to contain plastique explosive. They couldn’t before when the shoe restrictions are on, they couldn’t DURING the massive shoe restrictions, but now they apparently have the ability. Both times (and a third when I go back into C) I will have to walk on that nasty ass carpet. Needless to say two things will come of this development:

I will be forwarding my podiatry bills to President Bush-Whacked
I will no longer be receiving inquiries from foot-fetish clients

Yes yes yes … certain people are probably already writing their posts about Scott Adler the drama queen who can’t take a little walking and is sooooo high maintenance yadda yadda. Get over it. LOL. It’s a joke and merely for other’s amusement and information. If anything I’m being altruistic by making sure other people don’t make the same mistake.

Moral of the Story: Get to your flight early … but know exactly where you’ll be spending your time till you take off. AND carry-on’s WITHOUT liquid really are so much lighter.

Now back to the massage chair … which for the record if you haven’t tried one of those $1 airport massage chairs … it really will be one of the best dollars you’ve ever spent in an airport.

Chris Model Paris

2006-08-12T09:58:00.000-07:00

Alrighty .... well I wasn't sure how long it would be till my review got processed and someone is traveling soon. And since I am taking FOREVER processing my euro-trip blog ... the entries will come I swear .... here's this in the meanwhile.

You can find his stats and more pix of him And here's the review I posted. The rest of the details will eventually be on Daddy's review site which will be up soon but I think his rate was 200 €/hr.

His contact info:
chrisdickass@hotmail.com
+33 06 23 47 36 08

Here's the review!

Planning this trip with a client turned close friend, he said that we should mix it up with a third or two in our respective cities. In addition to Rentboy.com’s boys taking forever to respond and Paris not having so many well reviewed boys that were both of our types, I decided to use alternative methods. GayRomeo is Europe’s free version of ManHunt/Adam4Adam with a special section for escorts. Chris looked incredibly hot in a cute boyishly lean way that exemplified the Paris boy we both wanted to fuck.
After two bad experiences meeting people for coffee on Gay Romeo my first day in Paris, my expectations for Chris were pretty damned low. I figured he’d have gained some weight or be anorexic and not have the skin portrayed in the pictures. Third time must be a charm as Chris was perfect. He was tall, lean and gorgeous and I was ready to devour him the minute he walked in. The three of us chatted a bit and we complimented him on how well he spoke English. After discussing our arrival in Paris and the rest of our trip we opted to head to the bedroom.
It only got better as he took off his clothes and revealed a perfectly tan and smooth body and an ass that begged to be eaten. He kissed very well without getting overly “European” about it and slobbering. It was open and sweet with just the perfect timing and tongue inclusion. My friend and I took turns making out with him and then Chris and I took turns making sure he was happy. Chris and I eventually took over the bulk of the show with his long thick uncut dick sliding down my throat while he used his full lips to suck on mine. All the while I gently massaged a finger into his tight smooth ass. After a lot of back and forth of oral in different positions, my friend decided it was time for us to fuck.
Chris instinctively got on his knees and started rocking back rubbing my dick against his hole. I ripped open a condom and slowly slid into his ass. VERY hot. Definitely on my top lists of bottoms. He knew just when to contract his hole to make it better for me. While keeping him busy at both ends I gently stroked his dick. Eventually I pushed him on his back and started sucking and fucking him at the same time. I held his arms back and kept him from cumming keeping him on the edge for a while. After a bit I decided I was feeling left out and grabbed a condom and put it on his hard cock.
As I slowly pulled out he said, “I’m mostly bottom.” My response was, “try.”
With some more kissing and stroking he was ready to go and I sat on his dick. I bounced up and down and he seemed to know what he was doing topping as he pounded me from below. We kissed a bunch more and then he started jerking me off and I shot all over him face, neck, and chest.
After my friend got off watching this whole scene and participating from time to time, it was Chris’ turn. He was jerking hard but I just had that feeling he was the type that needed something up his ass to cum. Luckily I brought “Johnny Hazard” with me. I definitely consider it the perfect dildo, not obscenely sized but not small by any means. After some lube and sliding it up his ass Chris shot a huge load everywhere on his tanned chest.
We all showered and had a drink. He forgot his cigarettes in the room and we had a quickie up there while we were grabbing them. We saw him a couple more times the rest of the trip but nothing compares to the first. I should mention I met a couple other escorts for the sake of meeting for coffee and possibly hooking up in Paris. None compared or looked as good as Chris if you’re looking for his type. If you’re treating yourself to Paris, not seeing Chris would be like having a croissant without coffee – they go together..

Dear god has it come to this?

2006-08-10T10:27:00.000-07:00

To the weak (or stupid) of mind. Think of this as my Modest Proposal as Jonathan Swift and I’m advocating babies being fed to the homeless. Not to be taken so seriously … or is it?

It’s a conspiracy:

As a result of the massive arrests in the UK today our entire country is going to go through an uproar and quite possible will cause a national traveling melt down.

Liquids are banned from carry-on luggage and cannot be taken through security checkpoints. That includes drinks, toothpaste, perfume, shampoo, hair gel, suntan lotion and similar items. Drinks purchased in the airport cannot be carried onto flights.

You have got to be fucking kidding me. This is an OBVIOUS conspiracy on behalf of several prevalent industries in the United States.

First is the obvious … the airline industry. No liquids and especially drinks that were purchased outside of the plane (even in the terminal) are allowed to fly? Oh come ON. Fine, nothing brought in I can accept (for a month or so) due to recent events. But drinks purchased in the terminal just proves that this is their way of showing they’re onto the traveler who likes to bring their own booze on and not spend $4 on a cruddy cocktail. This the airlines way of making sure you buy their mini bottles and their mini bottles only, perhaps an attempt to liquidate their current supply of glass bottles. This possibly leads to another conspiracy that will be mentioned later.

Next is the sneakier conspiracy is a joint effort of the luggage and clothing industry. Shocking you say? Impossible? What product SPECIFICALLY always breaks open in luggage no matter HOW HARD you try to pack it up and gets all over everything you have packed. A bottle of water? No. Perhaps a box of chocolate as gift for relative, no it’s not that. SUNTAN lotion! Yes, that creamy or oily gooky crap gets put in your luggage and gets all over everything. We’ve now uncovered a third conspirator in this plot. It’s no surprise that recently most suntan lotions have gone spray on for this very reason. They want you to replace your old lotions and oils and purchase new package sprays. It’s genius. The luggage and clothing industries are happy because if you don’t buy new lotion ... well you have to buy new luggage when the stuff you have gets wrecked or starts reeking of tropical breeze or carrot ginger. It’s brilliant!

Hairgel. Ugh those poor flight attendants. Thank GOD for powder makeup, I mean … Jesus these women (and boys) would be just hideous on these Trans-Atlantic flights without a little bit of touching up between journeys. And the frequent flyer will be none too pretty themselves. I know I’m freaking out because I dehydrate quite easily and without my hydrating cream mask from L’Occitane I don’t know what I’ll do. All these airport L’Occitanes might as well close because now nobody can buy ANYTHING in them to take on the flight. PARIS IS BURNING. L’Provence is doomed! Oh the humanity.

And while we’re on the subject of the poor (gay) male flight attendants …. oh who am I kidding. They’re all gay who needs parentheses. No gels on board? Well their hair is going to look awful now. And god forbid, the mile high club is doomed! AH HA. ANOTHER CONSPIRACY on behalf of our dear Chimp of Office, er chief. I swear I meant Chief. In his campaign for moral order he is doing a way with the mile high club. I mean, without lube how will anyone pull it off? No more lube on airplanes. I know every working boy is pissed now that they have to CHECK luggage. If these bans aren’t lifted by Southern Decadence I can tell you N’Awlins is going to be FULL of chafing.

My final conspiracy. As Walter Brooke said so elegantly in the Graduate …

“I want to say one word to you. Just one word.”
“Are you listening?”
“Plastics.”

Freeeeeeeeesh Meat

2006-08-09T12:17:00.000-07:00

Well I like being on the front lines giving new information on the newest guys available. I have a super cute one for you right now.

Currently he's in North Carolina but will be back in school in Orlando very shortly. At the beginning of next year he intends on being in New York and I wanted to make sure everyone gives him the proper welcome he deserves!

His name is Brett Mathers and he is available for travel and is a very fresh 19 years old ;)

Here are his stats as noted by him:

Height: 5'6
Weight: 130
Hair: Brown
Eyes: Blue

Sexually: vers bottom

Location: Available in Orlando/Miami August 17th with plans to get to NYC.

Go get him boys ....

eMail: soccerjock624@gmail.com
Phone: 336.480.6023

http://www.maleescortreview.com/index.php?file=escort_search&action=Home&escort_id=106080460

Some Recent Images

2006-08-01T07:42:00.000-07:00

Due to the unfortunate hiatus of the male4male site, I've decided to post some pictures here to have as weblink reference points and just as visuals ;)

Scott Adler's Diary: The Edge of Reason

2006-07-31T23:25:00.000-07:00

Weight lost since Paris: 4 lbs.; cohibas smoked: 2; boys flirted with online: 8; boys shagged: 0; perfect boys met that are dating material that live on wrong coast: 1; family hospitalized: 0; dollars spent in retail therapy: $936.15; best-friends diagnosed HIV+: 1

My morning began like many of those working off jetlag in NYC, a trip for bagels. Walking down the block to H&H I saw a homeless man on the sidewalk with a particularly simple sign:

“Homeless and REALLY REALLY hungry.” In the corner of the sign there was another message, “Stop the war.”

Feeling particularly compassionate for that hour of the morning without coffee and not having any change on me, I decided to up my order of four bagels to six and got an extra coffee. On my way out I offered him the bagels and coffee and looked at me like I was psychotic and told me to, “get the fucking Jew pastries out of [his] face.” I told him his sign was false advertising, threw out the second coffee and went home to enjoy my bagels.

I have known homeless people to reject food because all they want is money for drugs and booze but honestly, if you’re going to make a sign that says REALLY REALLY hungry then don’t be surprised (and rude) when somebody tried to feed you.

My morning continued as I slowly woke up and ate the pastries which curled my hair and lengthened my nose. Around noon I met some friends near Columbus Circle for coffee at Dean and Deluca. Before going to the gym in the dungeon of the building, I decided to make a quick stop at Daffy’s. Daffy’s is like my favorite place on earth. It’s like another Filene’s basement but with different lines and more men’s shoes. Half an hour there, ten of which was spent looking for the companion shoe to a perfect set of loafers and I was ready for the gym.

I had a really good workout despite the stares from random gay men because the only gym shirt that I had that was clean was the “Catcher” shirt from the Ajaxx line. Combine wearing that and doing squats and I was a target for a few admirers.

I went to do hip abductors (the two weighted thigh-master machines – one squeezing in and the other pushing out) when I realized the woman using the complementary machine to my own (squeezing in) was none other than cutie texan Renee Zellweger, the inspiration for this entry’s style comes from the acclaimed movie series Bridget Jones’ Diary. I was doing my sets and she was kinda just going and going so I eventually stopped and she looked at me and then with a perfect Texan drawl,

“Thank god, I thought I was gonna have thighs the size of horses if I kept that up much longer.”

We chatted about the irony of her waiting for me while I waited for her. Eventually she ended up working out near me again and feeling bold I ran to the Personal Trainers office and grabbed paper and pen. I jokingly said that since she appeared to be following me I could assure her I wasn’t a stalker and that my best friend who is her biggest fan would die if she got an autograph,

“For A -- , Missed ya doin our crunches!! Where’re ye? Sendin’ Warmest! Renee”

So fantastic. Well after a day of legs I could walk so I thought a little more retail therapy would ease the pain. My favorite store in Columbus Circle didn’t disappoint me and I got a few cute new things that I felt were very me and some shoes that were on sale for their very last day … I hate when the summer sales end. Another reason I was happy to be home – I got to take advantage of them while they lasted.

As I was checking out the gorgeous guy next to me was paying as well and I spotted his California Driver’s License … I used that to strike up a conversation and made sure to give him my number before I left. He went out the side of the mall and I walked toward the subway when he yelled my way and asked if I had time for coffee. Oh, too perfect. He was really sweet, had just spent six months on a cruise ship as a singer on a World Cruise from Hamburg to Barcelona or some similar itinerary. We cliqued really well but he had some stuff to do so we parted and made plans to see each other before I left.

I was walking on clouds … well … rather walking underneath the ground sweating and praying for the next train ASAP. I got home, unwound and felt like Hoku’s Perfect Day song was playing in the background. I had received word within hours of landing yesterday my family member was going to make a speedy full recovery, I got some great retail therapy in, the weather in New York was verging on tolerable and nearly perfect, met a perfect boy, and literally could just lay back and relax.

My phone rang and butterflies got me hoping it was the boy but it was my best friend at home, not a bad consolation though. We chatted a bit and he thanked me for my post card and we made small talk. He expected a voice mail and I had to explain about the family emergency. Reminded him I’d rather be bitter toward family and that Europe will always be there than be mad at myself for not getting to say goodbye to family AGAIN. He agreed and then tried to sound serious:

Him Me

“Uh, when you get home we need to have a talk.”
“Uh Oh, what’s wrong?”
“Well nothing really, just me being motherly – kinda bad news.”
“What did I do?”
“For a change nothing ::nervous chuckle::”
“Then what. Something going on about me behind my back I should know about?”
“Nah, nothings wrong with you … nothing deathly important or anything.”
“Just tell me!”
“Well, um. I just found out that … well … um …I’m positive.”

For the first time in my life, I had nothing to say. He’s been my rock for years (damnit I’m already crying again) and just the thought of him not being there sent shock waves through my body and to the pit of my stomach.

For the next hour and a half he told me everything, how he found out, why he found out, what doctors he was seeing, the prognosis they gave, the whole nine yards. The whole time he kept trying to crack jokes and make the whole situation funny. How had he accepted it so fast? He made me look like a mere courtesan in the Royal Court of Drama and he was calm cool and collected while I wanted to scream out promises of vengeance on the evil that did this to him.

Then he reminded me, it was something he did to himself. And it just came as a wake up call to me and in reference to everyone having sex. The only safe sex is abstinence. There is no other way of saying it. There is no sure fire way of knowing. I love him deeply and know that he will get the best care there is for him. He has people, myself among them, that will be there no matter what. It’s hard to comprehend, to imagine. But it’s now slowly becoming a fact of my generation, we think we’re invincible but we’re not.

The cute boy from shopping today called me in the hour after while I was processing. I know he was a complete stranger technically but we had cliqued so well. It felt good to just sit and talk. He walked me the thirteen blocks home from the coffee place we met at and here I am, alone in bed. No matter how much I wanted him tonight there was no way I was going to be able to do anything with this looming over my head. My head wasn't in the right place, nothing was. I was at the edge of reason and somebody was nudging me over the side.

Actually happy to be going home … a lesson in Cognitive Dissonance

2006-07-31T22:15:00.000-07:00

I hope everyone has studied up on Cognitive Dissonance before they read this post. If not just follow the link to a brief overview of the concept. If you’d rather GUESS what it is just by reading this then it should be pretty obvious.

I was excited to go on the cruise but wow there are so many reasons right now that I’m happy I’m not let me tell you…

I’m by no means ageist. I can have fun talking to whomever about whatever no matter what they look like or how old they are, people at the HooVille meetings can attest to that. It’s not to say that anyone there is particularly old or possess any negative attributes, I’m just saying that they can vouch for me that I’m a conversational chameleon and can pretty much hold my own and blend into any conversation I want/need to.

This ships capacity is about 325 passengers plus crew. Apparently with all the rooms sold out, there were still only a little over 200 passengers set to sail because of the ABUNDANCE of single occupancy. Through my traumatic experience the cruise coordinator and I became excellent friends and we chatted about little details. There were a couple meetings where we got to know each other and then where I tried to lessen the blow for my client/friend and have him not be charged the full amount despite the last minute cancellation. By the time I was through flirting and finessing this PEACH of a person refunded my entire ticket and only charged my friend as if he were traveling alone and the single supplement.

The funny thing was that despite the low attendance I was excited when I heard the only other 21 year old on board was an Australian dancer on vacation. 21. Australian. Dancer. Could he BE anymore my type? LOL. Apparently the next youngest on the ship was 28. Next came a group of about 70 early to mid thirties. The rest were forty and above. Again, I have no problems hanging out and enjoying myself with older people, but I think the cruise would have gotten a little boring having nobody else at my place in life. These thoughts were confirmed when I realized that the 21 year old on vacation already had friends on board, the other dancers and some crew. Essentially I’d end up being his spare wheel on every outing if even that. Not going on this cruise was sounding better and better.

Early in the morning on Saturday when I received the phone calls about the issue, I knew that there was a chance that there could have been stabilization and certainty that I wouldn’t miss my family passing. Thus, the entire day I was on pins and needles unsure of whether or not the cruise was actually happening. Either way, my client and friend was ready to stand by my decision.

I would frequently check in with the cruise director as the “refund issue” was pending until nearly before I left and last minute return travel arrangements had to be made as well. Luckily my guy only buys full fare tickets that can be changed to whatever so that was the least stress … getting the flights was the only problem we anticipated.

When chatting with the travel guy I asked questions like, “Why the Radisson?” There were so many other things more suitable hotels for a bunch of high maintenance fags that was far closer to the main town (and the Spartacus Approved destinations). Apparently they had used Le Meridien and Negresco regularly.

Unfortunately, the Negresco was only cute in the public rooms and out front, inside the rooms were classic euro-trash chic. Apparently Le Meridien had asked the cruise director the day before guests began to arrive, “This is a family hotel, we do hope you can … tone it down.” After that they never booked there again but it got me wondering, what did they expect? Orgies on the pool deck, ritual virgin sacrifices, perhaps a preach and convert session complete with toasters?

My questions were answered on the elevator en route to cocktails on the terrace last night. A couple got on a cramped elevator, obviously straight English speaking family present as well. A couple of the boys obviously on the ship got on a little tipsy and because of being cramped, the shorter of the two was nose to chest with his companion. At this point, he felt the need to announce, “God your right nipple smells really good right now.” Yep, I’ll be missing out on the epitome of culture this trip.

Getting to the cocktail party made me feel like I was at Mickey’s “Cocktails with the Stars.” A bunch of guys huddled around each other pointing and whispering about everyone else looking for the freshest eye candy to walk up. I felt like I was a piece of meat walking into a nest of hungry hyenas – I could only imagine what being stranded on a ship with nobody to hang out with/talk to the whole time except for them would have been like. Sure I could have done my own thing and seen the ports on my own, but when I do a cruise, I like to meet people and form lasting friendships yadda yadda sappy sweet crap. The pre-cruise cocktail party gave me yet another reason I didn’t want to be on this ship. The amount and possibility of undesirables was totally eminent. Beside, I’m sure I’ll at least get to see pictures from the trip one way or another. On the up side, I did get to wear my new LV speedos tanning on Saturday. The goal was to get as brown as the suit and I came pretty damned close. They were hot … not the pair I wanted but a great bathing suit none-the-less.

As cocktails wound down and I met up with my friend for our last dinner together in France. I discovered that smoking suppresses an appetite and getting addicted to Cohiba Mini-Cigars is NOT a good thing when you’ve bought a few packs duty free for a trip and can’t legally take them home to America. Everybody wish me luck in customs.

As a side note while waiting for my car to pick me up at JFK I wanted to smoke one of said Cohibas. Since they took my lighter before I got on the plane I had to find someone with a light. I went to the smoking group behind me, yellow Cohiba pack in hand, and asked for a light. The customs official lit my cigarette and I froze, of all the people. Thank god he didn't look at the box.

Regardless of everything … I had an amazing trip. A week in Paris and a weekend in Nice is NOTHING to sneeze at. We were planning on cutting the trip short from Venice ANYWAY because of the weather being god awful hot and the canals stinking. Every guide book in the world says the worst time to visit our ports is between July and August, hence why the homos are able to Charter and entire ship during that time – they can’t fill a straight cruise with people. Now I get to spend two full weeks in my favorite city in the world … what could be better?

An update: My family is due to make a full recovery. Now I have other bad news to deal with, blog forthcoming tomorrow most likely. Writing has become an amazing outlet. Streams of consciousness turning into flowing thoughts are honestly much better therapy than a doctor at $150/hr. Seeing my words helps me deal with them and dealing with them helps me understand my feelings.

Coming back to America set me up for a lot of important things like being with my family, my friends on my birthday, and being an ear for my best friend who received news that shattered his world. I'm definitely happier to be home.

And not to dignify trash with a response but it’s sad to see that even someone as vile as Chgo has so little a soul or decency to show compassion to another human being in need. Even people calling me the worst of the worst names on Escort Speak in the past wrotes notes of condolence. He truly is sick and pathetic and I truly hope that he somehow finds the peace he needs shirtless on a ship where nobody would dare bother him.

“It really frosts my cookies…”

2006-07-31T18:42:00.000-07:00

“Went into the woods, had a good time, bonded together…(more quote below)…It really frosts my cookies that we have come so far and now we have to stop.”
~Shelly Long, Troop Beverly Hills

For those of you unfamiliar with the movie, I’m stripping you of your gay card. Another highlight of the movie is Shelley Morrison of Will and Grace playing, what else but an upscale maid named … you ready? … Rosa. I will italicize any references to it in this post so people who HAVEN’T seen it (again, your gay card suspension is already in process) can understand these vague and seemingly irrelevant metaphors.

But I digress. I have traveled very far into the forest on this jamboree… not just mileage. My travel companion would be in nicest terms, “difficult,” and this cruise was definitely the light at the finish line and the prize of being this year’s poster troop. Unfortunately there is no log to cross this ravine and no finish line to carry Velda across. Velda is hurt and in New York and no matter how much I’m going to dislike her for putting me through this, she is still a Wilderness girl. Alright, I’m done with this metaphor. OK, one more metaphor….

“Crock of SHIT …. DAMNIT … DAMNIT DAMNIT DAMNIT …. Just ONCE I want to GO the DIStance!”

Anyway, a close family of mine had a heart attack Friday night. I was out and about in Nice and when I returned home at 3 AM Nice time I had messages on my Hotel phone and 3 missed calls from various American numbers on my international cell phone. My family knew that usin that phone was under only the direst of emergencies.

Last time there was a heart attack in my family I delayed my flight until I heard that my grandfather was stable. My parents lied and while I was gone he died. I never got to say goodbye. They learned their lesson that I would hate them more for lying to me and not telling me the truth about family health than if they ruined my vacation by calling me home. Nice, the Amalfi coast and Italy would all be there next summer – no sense in crying over not getting on a ship and having cocktails.

It is truly a wonderful cruise but it’s nothing extraordinary that I haven’t been available to me in the past.

There will be a GREAT deal of cognitive dissonance in future posts on this topic. Cognitive Psychology was one of the few psychology core-courses I aced so I appear to be an expert at it.

A nice first day in Nice

2006-07-30T12:07:00.000-07:00

By the time this gets posted I’ll have landed in New York most likely, although I am typing it on the plane. I found out Saturday morning after an extremely hot night at the clubs in Nice. It was fucking amazing.

We arrived in Nice to the shock of a lifetime. The Radisson SAS, though convenient to the airport, was convenient to nothing else. It was literally one of the furthest “luxury” hotels from the downtown district that was possible. It was a nice hotel, modernly redone and quaint (small) but charming (homey) yet the service was leisurely (slow). Thus, after spending a week at the George V in Paris, it was certainly a wake up call that our accommodations on the ship would only go down hill.

What was also particularly disturbing about this hotel were the taxis it employed. The first took us to “Safari,” a restaurant in the flower market Cores de Sulaya at the far end of downtown during rush hour. This cost 14 €. The drive BACK from this place after walking in the general direction of the hotel in a non rush hour period (that took half as long) cost 18 €. Finally, my trip to downtown in the early evening to start my “outing” in Nice from the hotel to the exact same drop off point cost 24 €. For future reference, in Nice always demand to see the meter or negotiate the price in advance, apparently they have little taxes for everything from “left turns” to “zone changes” to even “per bag” the car (not the driver) has to transport. Needless to say I planned on walking back despite being told earlier that evening by “fellow” future cruisers that it took them a half hour each way at a leisurely pace.

I started by going to the trendy bar next to Safari that was hopping when we were there for a late lunch. Not sure of the spelling but I believe it was Cores de Coisseurs. That could be completely off but I know it was right next to Safari in the flower market. The scene was amazing but it was killing me that like most of Europe, playing European or Gay is a VERY difficult game. Between the outfits these boys wear and the kissing cheeks upon meeting I can’t even start to differentiate so I began to give up and just assume everyone was “sexual,” hated categories, and hoped anyone I asked would be up for grabs.

A little eye flirting explained this was not the case. Occasionally I would assume and they would put an arm around a girl near by or nibble an earlobe. Eh, better than getting the crap beaten out of me which would probably be the likely result in America. A quick coffee led me to meet Mattieu the waiter … gorgeous in a cute young boy sort of way who was apparently 18. He had a very tight toned body with bulges in the right places, tan alabaster skin and dirty blonde hair with the cutest smile. Most importantly, very very gay with a mastery of English.

He was getting off work at eleven and suggested we go to Le Klub. Le Klub is Nice’s hot spot but apparently is at it’s gayest on Friday nights. We went there and it was quite the experience. Loud circuit music, hot half naked bodies, and a lot of sweat. I like to think of myself at Ling from Ally McBeal. Unfortunately I sweat a lot when I’m hot. One would think after 40 years in the desert the Jews would have built up a tolerance to all forms of heat and thus wouldn’t sweat as much as other cultures. A sort of natural selection adaptation as you will. Not the case. But as a Ling incarnation I have to say that,

“Richard, you know how I don’t like sweat ever? How it bugs me? Well there’s one time when it doesn’t. When I have sex I love sweat, when I have sex … I drip. Can you handle that.”

So I figured if there was going to be all this sweating there needed to be sex as well. He informed me that around the corner was Le Block. It was after midnight by this point and they were having their weekly event that night. I believe the event was called “Naked Party.” Now apparently after chatting with Matieu about Le Block, it’s always a naked party so perhaps Friday is just their busy night so they raise the price from 8 to 10 € and get away with it because it’s a “special event.” Wow culture shock.

Walked in and was handed a Velcro bracelet with a pouch filled with condoms and a number on it and a sac. The numbers on the bracelet and sac corresponded. Matieu immediately stripped naked … dear lord I was in heaven … and put all his clothing in the bag and stood there naked as the day he was born with the exception of the Velcro wrist strap. I looked around and there were no towels in site … just naked people with bracelets or “anklets” for those who were creative. When in Rome … er Nice. I stripped and gave the doorman my bag and we were off.

Next thing I knew Matieu was leading me all over the place up and down stairs to a very humid (and chocolate smelling) upstairs and then to the middle level through their labyrinth with naked men jerking their dicks and staring people up and down at every turn. He considered this the tour and then took me to the dungeon and we stood in a very short line. This puzzled me. For what could I have possibly needed to stand in line for at a bathhouse sex/club. We entered a small room and I saw it. St. Andrews Cross. Oh my. Matieu looked at me and pointed to the cuffs …. You have GOT to be kidding me. He wasn’t. We walked in and he locked the door behind us as there were about 20 men that (so as not to insult or alienate let’s say “weren’t our type”) were following us around as soon as e walked in and tried to follow us into the room to watch.

I got strapped into this wooden contraption with only the trust that this kid was normal and not going to screw me (a mistake of trust I had made in Dublin) hoping that I was about to have the time of my life. At first he started lightly stroking my body while I convulsed because I am so damned ticklish. I think he was enjoying that but when I put my serious stop face on he knew it wasn’t something I enjoyed. Before I realized what was happening he was on his knees (on a vinyl pad we used one of their many sanitary wipes on) sucking my cock for all he was worth. In my mind I was thinking, “Is his name Mattieu or Vaccuum?” They sound relatively similar ;)

Then I was blown away because he stood up and before I could realize what was happening, I was upside-down with his big, thick, soft, smooth uncut dick at eye level and we was sucking me off. He learned quickly that this angle was perfect to shove his cock in and out of my throat. Very nice. Wow. I think he was used to this and realized the blood was starting to rush to my head and turned me back over, reached into his bracelet and slipped a rubber on me, squirted some lube off the wall dispenser and backed up on it. I think I was just in so much a state of shock being completely used by this boy that I had one of the most amazing orgasms ever, definitely an experience for life.

After this encounter we went to the bar inside the sex club where they have coffee and water. I opted for water and we chatted a bit until Antoin walked in. A gorgeous Italian who I later found out owned a Spa in Rome. I’ve written enough pornography for this entry but can definitely say that anyone who complains about being trapped between France and Italy is probably in an I Love Lucy border situation because that night I was stuck dead center between the two countries and had the time of my life.

It was getting late and I knew that I didn’t want to sleep through my day in Nice so I got everyone’s contact info (particularly Antoin’s for the spa in Rome) and started the “walk” home. I had resigned myself to walking home because of the cost of that obscene cab ride and it was a delightful walk. Never before had I seen so many trannie street walkers. Let me clarify, so many of them in couture! These elaborate cocktail dresses sporting overpriced labels. I guess I’ll slide off my LV sandals before I cast stones. It is all the same afterall isn’t it Rico ;) But not quite. I tossed a few of them my coin change (€ coins are usually 1 or 2) since I didn’t want to bother with coins and I can appreciate a working gir….guy…er…whatever.

About half way to the hotel though the walk got boring and turned mostly to condos and hotels so I decided to find the closest cab and told them to turn the meter on. To my surprise the trip home was only 7 € … imagine that.

I got home to missed calls on my Euro Phone and the message light blinking in my hotel. I had a sinking feeling in my stomach that my night was not ending soon and waking up to tan on the Cote d’Azur may not have been in my future. I sat down and braced myself for what I expected to be a very long night.

Trouble in the water ...

2006-07-28T18:51:00.000-07:00

This blog might be over before it's even begun. I returned to my hotel after an amazing night of partying in Nice to find out there was an incident in my family back on the east coast. Depending on how the next 24 hours go I may or may not be going home.

Now I just need some sleep.

Mystery of the lack of french fatness...

2006-07-27T15:57:00.000-07:00

I'm not saying all the French are skinny bitches (my mother's personal quote) but the bulk of them are a tad too waif'ish for all those croissant and pounds of butter they're packing away. They have the highest rate of butter consumption in the country and most of them have those waists. WTF?

So despite all the rich food and the lack of obvious gyms that don't double as Saunas all over Paris here's another top ten reasons why the French are so thin despite all odds:

10) Being overweight is so American
9) All that butter is ACTUAL butter and not the processed crap we have at home
8) A pastry at breakfast and then nothing else till a rich creamy dinner
7) That IS my appetizer right ... oh ... that's an entree?
6) Chain smoking party of deux ... that'll stop the cravings
5) "Everyone's stopped eating since zero became the new two and two the new four."
"I'm a six"
"Ah, the new fourteen."
~Nigel to Andrea on their first lunch date, Devil Wears Prada
4) They’re less mobile in traffic by scooter if they’re heavy
3) Running to dodge a cab or scooter coming right at you while crossing the street
2) Something about being drunk all day burns carbs faster

1) If you climbed this fucker once a week you are set for cardio for the month alone.

So yeah. I know I haven’t been posting but I figured it was best for me to (not to quote Sex and the City) “not just live a life to write about for other people but to actually LIVE my life for me.” Thus I’ve been taking notes of all the fun stuff so things will get posted by day, some two days at a time … some more. Maybe entire cities lumped together.

Regardless, tonight is my last night in Paris and I really am sad but don’t think I could have been more satisfied with the trip. I did Paris in a unique way that most Americans wouldn’t (and couldn’t) even DREAM of doing. I hop you guys enjoy the adventures to come J

15 Minutes...

2006-07-24T03:41:00.000-07:00

...OK, not EVEN fifteen minutes in Paris and I already got snubbed by a stewardess of all people. I mean the woman is in her late 50s and flying across the Atlantic serving warm nuts … what the hell?

We landed after a delightful flight on AirFrance … I wanted Virgin but was actually pleasantly surprised with the reclining soft leather seats and overall experience. So as we landed at Charles De Gaulle, or as I’m now calling it “A Long Haul,” and were waiting for the ok to open the plane door when said flight attendant approached me staring at my shirt muttering “Ce qui est.”

Anyone from America would have known who makes the shirt right away but I figured, eh, it’s ok and explained, “Abercrombie and Fitch.” A nearby flight attendant of the homosexual persuasion translated “Abercrombie” with the appropriate syllable accents and she “got it.”

“Oh, so sorry. You know, here in France all we do is Chanel and Dior so it is of course my loss,” with a sly grin.

BITCH

The door began to open and I started walking toward her to get off the plane, LV carry-on in tow.

“Do you know Vuitton?” I replied as I approached her.

She repeated my apparently not French enough pronunciation as I rolled my carry-on OVER her Chanel pump.

“OH. VUITTON!” she half screamed wincing in a more convincing articulation of the word. She smiled back at me. Apparently I earned her respect.

Unfortunately leaving at 6 PM from JFK puts you in Paris at 7:15 am which is around midnight back home. So I should be STARTING my day here but unfortunately I’m sure that by the time I get checked into the hotel and post this I’ll be ready to pass out. I refuse to lose a day here but I have no doubt in my mind the beds at the George V will be impossible to get out of once I’m in one.

Reflections on NYC and STL to come. Have the Queens in Queens gotten their power back?

And so another blog begins...

2006-07-18T05:58:00.000-07:00

... but a touch of ADD leads me to believe that like most of my projects, this may fizzle out so I do hope people enjoy it while it lasts. Over the years (it surprises me that it’s been years, oy) I've been asked to start a blog of sorts. Here are some of the top ten possible reasons I expect this has occurred:

10) People are incredibly bored and just need something more lightweight than a magazine.
9) There are people masochistic enough to hear me rant and rave on topics that are nearest and dearest to our hearts
8) There are those sadistic enough that wish for me to comment on anything and everything in order find more material for their own fiction.
7) My prose gives people a sense of security unattainable by other sources of internet journalism
6) I’m a bitch and some people like my blunt take on life as we know it
5) Five is a pretty number and I’m running out of bullshit David Letterman Style reasons
FOR) I can laugh at myself for not using grammar check before I make posts about mattress sales
3) As a hobby hoe I take a unique perspective on this industry and in a lot of cases can provide an unbiased opinion on highly debated topic … never said that I did but it’s possible
2) There aren’t enough blogs, message boards, or outlets to theory on the intricate and VERY complicated industry of male escorting on the net right now …

And the NUMBER one reason why I believe I’ve been asked to start a blog ...

1) GRATUITOUS NUDITY!

Well unfortunately kids I don’t foresee gratuitous nudity in the future of this blog but given my travel itinerary over the next month there is a strong possibility there will be scantily clad photos in several delightful settings in Europe.

So to begin … we will address the issue of Admiral’s Clubs at the LAX terminal. Why open at 5:15 am? Why not 5 AM? Is it just more amusing to them to see people gathering outside? Hell … why not keep it open 24 hours. How hard can it be to keep a supply of stale coffee and muffins packed with preservatives available?

Regardless, a car picked me up at home at 4:35 am, an ungodly hour that I haven’t seen since my days working at Starbucks when I had to be at work at that time, and placed me in the predicament of waiting outside the doors of this delightful little lounge. Like a Mervyn’s commercial gone horribly wrong, potential patrons hovered outside the automatic doors chanting “open, open, open” under their breath almost willing the doors to part.

And then (but only after a cute attendant dragged an apparently heavy plant to the front) the doors opened and we were saved. Saved by wretchedly thin coffee and sticky muffins. First St. Louis, then the WORLD! Is it Paris yet?