I bet you're thinking I'm going to have great stories. Well I guess it depends on what you are used to reading. I might be a filty whore, but tonight is about someone else's story...
I went to Hell's Kitchen to meet Andy and Jimmy for a drink tonight. The highlight of my night was really when Andy disappeared for about 10 minutes. When he came back he was smiling. Apparently, he had been peeing at the urinal and a guy was next to him stroking his penis. Andy didn't say anything at first, but when they both went to the sink to wash their hands, Andy gave him a big manly "Hey, how you doin?"
The man replied in a foreign accent that might have been German, "Go back to where you were." So Andy goes back to the urinal, and Unspecified European(UE) pulls out his large penis. Andy and UE proceed to get hard and jack each other off. They actually both had orgasms at the urinal, while a third guy jacked off next to them.
I can't believe Andy had an orgasm at a urinal with another person watching!!!! When he told me the story I was filled with jealousy, and not because I want to sleep with him, but simply because I wish orgasms were that easy for me. Yes, I have had sex in clubs. But I never get off, for I am a LADY at heart. A girl must have manners.
It reminds me of a friend named Mark who got a blow job in a coat check line of a club in San Francisco. Hardly anyone noticed, and yet Mark had an orgasm, right there, in line. That makes me terribly jealous. I do not have those Public Sex Superpowers.
So if you have the Power, then I can only assume that it is a gift from God, and you should use the Power. You should spread your seed in all the coat check lines and urinals that you can find. Hit me up next time, cuz that shit drives me crazy, you dirty bitches.
Saturday, January 26, 2008
Friday, January 25, 2008
Dead People
I know a lot of dead people.
The first to go was Louise, a.k.a. Grandma Nana to my sister and I. She was actually my sister's godmother, but when we were little we didn't understand the difference between Grandmother and Godmother. Anyway, when she died I remember feeling guilty for not crying. Though she was our babysitter for years when we were really young, I hadn't seen her in years when she died. Maybe it was God's way of showing me death in baby steps.
Then there was Jason. He was the first boy I went head over heels for. I was 19. He left me for his ex who used to beat him, and I remember going to Rowena's house and crying like crazy. Two years later he hung himself.
Speaking of Rowena... if Grandma Nana was a baby step, Rowena was a giant leap. She was my and Umecke's best friend, though she was more part of my daily life because Umecke was living in SF. I was with Rowena the night she disappeared from a gas station in LA. Ten days later, which happened to be the day of my college graduation ceremony, her body was found around the block from where she disappeared. I'll make that a chapter in my book someday.
Then there was Angela. Angela and Rowena had been best friends growing up, and Angela and I had got married in Vegas when we were 19. Then we dropped acid and roamed the strip until the sun came up. It was a different era for me. Anyway, four years later, her boyfriend drove their car off the Autobahn in Germany at 100mph into a tree.
Grandma was next. I don't have any catchy story about Grandma. She was pure love and light.
Grandpa followed a few years later. He and my mother are the people who made me successful. Mom made me feel like I could do anything, but Grandpa was more assertive. He made me feel like I would do something important. His confidence in me was unwavering.
This summer there was Lenny. When I was 26/27 I dated Lenny for close to a year, and in that time he taught me why I was worth loving. I don't think I've every loved anyone quite the way I loved him. He was the closest man to me ever. He had a heart attack in his sleep this summer.
Two more acquaintances/friends killed themselves in the last few months. One hung himself when his lover of about 15 years left him for another man. The other lost a lifelong battle with depression.
I used to be unable to think about death. The overwhelming finality took my breath away. But now I can think about it. Now I don't feel so alone when I go to bed at night. Now when I find the time to pray before I go to sleep, I always say good night to my long list of angels.
The first to go was Louise, a.k.a. Grandma Nana to my sister and I. She was actually my sister's godmother, but when we were little we didn't understand the difference between Grandmother and Godmother. Anyway, when she died I remember feeling guilty for not crying. Though she was our babysitter for years when we were really young, I hadn't seen her in years when she died. Maybe it was God's way of showing me death in baby steps.
Then there was Jason. He was the first boy I went head over heels for. I was 19. He left me for his ex who used to beat him, and I remember going to Rowena's house and crying like crazy. Two years later he hung himself.
Speaking of Rowena... if Grandma Nana was a baby step, Rowena was a giant leap. She was my and Umecke's best friend, though she was more part of my daily life because Umecke was living in SF. I was with Rowena the night she disappeared from a gas station in LA. Ten days later, which happened to be the day of my college graduation ceremony, her body was found around the block from where she disappeared. I'll make that a chapter in my book someday.
Then there was Angela. Angela and Rowena had been best friends growing up, and Angela and I had got married in Vegas when we were 19. Then we dropped acid and roamed the strip until the sun came up. It was a different era for me. Anyway, four years later, her boyfriend drove their car off the Autobahn in Germany at 100mph into a tree.
Grandma was next. I don't have any catchy story about Grandma. She was pure love and light.
Grandpa followed a few years later. He and my mother are the people who made me successful. Mom made me feel like I could do anything, but Grandpa was more assertive. He made me feel like I would do something important. His confidence in me was unwavering.
This summer there was Lenny. When I was 26/27 I dated Lenny for close to a year, and in that time he taught me why I was worth loving. I don't think I've every loved anyone quite the way I loved him. He was the closest man to me ever. He had a heart attack in his sleep this summer.
Two more acquaintances/friends killed themselves in the last few months. One hung himself when his lover of about 15 years left him for another man. The other lost a lifelong battle with depression.
I used to be unable to think about death. The overwhelming finality took my breath away. But now I can think about it. Now I don't feel so alone when I go to bed at night. Now when I find the time to pray before I go to sleep, I always say good night to my long list of angels.
Thursday, January 24, 2008
Sunday, January 20, 2008
Even phone sex is unfulfilling
For those that don't know I have a profile on BigMuscle.com. While a lot of people use it as a hookup site, I genuinely use it as a dating/friend/social site. I've only had sex with one guy ever that I met on that site, and he bought me dinner first.
So two days ago this 22yo kid messaged me. I looked at his pics and found that not only is he completely gorgeous, but he had a picture of his 9.5" uncut penis posted. Seriously, this thing's size and beauty is in the top 2% of all penises everywhere (based on my extensive personal research). I was unfortunately a bit drunk when I replied to him. I normally would have said something about being flattered and then explained that I'm really the dating vs. hookup type. But instead I said something to the effect of how I was a young daddy looking for a hot boy (oops). Apparently that's just what the boy was looking for because he started messaging me non-stop after that.
I got home from San Francisco tonight and he said I could listen to him get off if I gave him my phone number. So I replied that I haven't had phone sex in about a decade, and while I can guarantee fantastic sex in person, I don't know that I would be very entertaining on the phone.
Actually, I remember the last time I had phone sex. Sorry for digressing, but this is funny. My ex-boyfriend Matt was staying with me in late 1999 in San Diego, and one night a man named Jeff called and asked for Matt. Matt wasn't home, but Jeff and I somehow started talking, and I found out that he had met Matt on a phone-sex line, and Matt had given him my home phone. Uh, rude. But as the conversation went on with this guy he ended up being really interesting and sexy. We talked for three hours and had phone sex that night and many other nights over the next two weeks. Then we finally met. And what I found was a short frumpy guy with a white man afro in geeky glasses and bad clothes. So you can see why I haven't ventured back to phone sex again.
So anyway, tonight, the 22yo's response to my message was to send me another picture of his penis, though this time it was hard. Listen, I'm only human. I gave him my phone number.
When he called the phone number was blocked, so I couldn't see his phone number. Fine, whatever. We chatted for a few minutes and then started getting into it. I was suprised at my instinct for this stuff. Its actually like sales. You just find out what their needs are up front, and then angle the rest of the conversation to fit their needs. After 10 minutes I knew I had this kid down, and his voice started going crazy. I told him to cum, and I got a long drawn out "oooooohhhhhhh, uhhhhhhhh, oooooooohhhhh, uuuuhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!"
His breath calmed down. I asked where he came, and he said all over. And then....the phone hung up. Did that bitch hang up on me?
Um, I don't know what the generally accepted manners are around phone sex. I don't think Emily Post has a chapter for this in her etiquette guide. But after I get you off I feel like I at least deserve a goodbye. Maybe a thanks. Definitely a good night.
Well I've definitely learned my lesson this time. I'm not going to do anything I'm not comfortable with again.
Unless the guys sends me a pic of his 9.5" penis, and then I swear its just temporary insanity.
So two days ago this 22yo kid messaged me. I looked at his pics and found that not only is he completely gorgeous, but he had a picture of his 9.5" uncut penis posted. Seriously, this thing's size and beauty is in the top 2% of all penises everywhere (based on my extensive personal research). I was unfortunately a bit drunk when I replied to him. I normally would have said something about being flattered and then explained that I'm really the dating vs. hookup type. But instead I said something to the effect of how I was a young daddy looking for a hot boy (oops). Apparently that's just what the boy was looking for because he started messaging me non-stop after that.
I got home from San Francisco tonight and he said I could listen to him get off if I gave him my phone number. So I replied that I haven't had phone sex in about a decade, and while I can guarantee fantastic sex in person, I don't know that I would be very entertaining on the phone.
Actually, I remember the last time I had phone sex. Sorry for digressing, but this is funny. My ex-boyfriend Matt was staying with me in late 1999 in San Diego, and one night a man named Jeff called and asked for Matt. Matt wasn't home, but Jeff and I somehow started talking, and I found out that he had met Matt on a phone-sex line, and Matt had given him my home phone. Uh, rude. But as the conversation went on with this guy he ended up being really interesting and sexy. We talked for three hours and had phone sex that night and many other nights over the next two weeks. Then we finally met. And what I found was a short frumpy guy with a white man afro in geeky glasses and bad clothes. So you can see why I haven't ventured back to phone sex again.
So anyway, tonight, the 22yo's response to my message was to send me another picture of his penis, though this time it was hard. Listen, I'm only human. I gave him my phone number.
When he called the phone number was blocked, so I couldn't see his phone number. Fine, whatever. We chatted for a few minutes and then started getting into it. I was suprised at my instinct for this stuff. Its actually like sales. You just find out what their needs are up front, and then angle the rest of the conversation to fit their needs. After 10 minutes I knew I had this kid down, and his voice started going crazy. I told him to cum, and I got a long drawn out "oooooohhhhhhh, uhhhhhhhh, oooooooohhhhh, uuuuhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!"
His breath calmed down. I asked where he came, and he said all over. And then....the phone hung up. Did that bitch hang up on me?
Um, I don't know what the generally accepted manners are around phone sex. I don't think Emily Post has a chapter for this in her etiquette guide. But after I get you off I feel like I at least deserve a goodbye. Maybe a thanks. Definitely a good night.
Well I've definitely learned my lesson this time. I'm not going to do anything I'm not comfortable with again.
Unless the guys sends me a pic of his 9.5" penis, and then I swear its just temporary insanity.
Thursday, January 10, 2008
1 New Message from "footlonglogs"
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Sunday, January 6, 2008
Chapter 1: The Early Years
I bet it was a hot day in Albuquerque, NM on September 8, 1975. The summers can be sweltering and dry there, so I can only hope that momma had some air conditioning in that old brick hospital when she pushed me out of her v-jay-jay. Well, actually, she started to push me out, but as I emerged the doctor discovered that my umbilical cord was wrapped around my neck. The doctor pushed me back in and performed an emergency C-section. He told momma that I had endured a loss of oxygen long enough that it was possible I would be handicapped for the rest of my life. And so the story began...
Mom and Dad met on a blind date in San Francisco, and they fell in love quickly. Dad proposed to Mom on a lookout near the north side of the Golden Gate bridge, where they had gone on their first date, and when Mom accepted they thought they were the luckiest people in the world.
Dad made an attempt to be a good father to me and moved to Alameda when I was two. He got a job, tried to supress his insatiable desire to party (I'll have to thank Dad for that quality too), and got Mom pregnant again with my little sister Jennifer. But then Dad slipped to his old ways, and the day that Jennifer was born, Mom had to choose between Dad and her own father being in the hospital room with her. She chose her father. Dad got pissed and moved back to Albuquerque before Mom left the hospital. Mom went back to the lookout where they had their first date, and where he had later proposed, and threw her wedding ring into the San Francisco bay as a symbol of letting him go forever (Isn't that sad?). He called three or four years later on Father's Day to talk to us, and we didn't hear from him again until 1988. I'll save that for another chapter.
We lived in Alameda until 1984. There is only one character from those years that I really want to talk about. His name was Helmut, and when I was about five (1981) he became the manager of our apartment building. Mom and him became friends immediately, and Helmut became the first important male figure in mine and Jennifer's lives. He taught me to swim, taught me to ride a bike, gave me my first paid job ($1 for cleaning the pool), and took us all out to eat a couple times each week. I think Mom really loved him though, and over the years I think she hoped that he would eventually make us a family. But in early 1984, my aunt Linda moved into the building, and Helmut and her started dating. It might have sucked for Mom, but I can't argue with their choice. Helmut and Linda are still together, 23 years later.
I have only vague memories of Mom trying to date other men. There was a guy who lost a hand in a firecracker accident who would never play with me because he was busy watching sports on television. There was a guy with a thousand laser discs who left Mom when he realized he was gay. And I think there was a Mormon. Then in June of 1984, when Mom was heartbroken over Helmut and Linda, she met a sailor named Chuck who was based in San Diego but working in Alameda for the summer. Eight weeks later they got married, and by summer's end we had begun our new life in the San Diego suburb of El Cajon.
Chuck was only my stepfather for two years, but he was crazy enough to deserve his very own chapter. So I'll leave that for later.
Mom and Dad met on a blind date in San Francisco, and they fell in love quickly. Dad proposed to Mom on a lookout near the north side of the Golden Gate bridge, where they had gone on their first date, and when Mom accepted they thought they were the luckiest people in the world.
Mom was 23 and Dad was 25 when I was born, but very shortly after I was born my Mom realized that she was the only one who was really ready to grow up. Dad kept partying, and despite Mom's efforts to get him to take some responsibility for me, he drank more and more. One night Dad got into a fight at our house and ran after a friend of his with an axe (that must be where I get my spantaneous side). Mom recognized the symptoms of an alcoholic that she knew so well from her own parents, and it scared her.
She also felt more and more alone in Albuquerque. Dad's family all live there, but she grew distant from his family. Mom tells the story of leaving me with Dad's mother one day while they went on a date. When they got home, good 'ol granny was hammered on cooking sherry and had wrapped me in a pair of her panties (I bet I felt pretty). Mom didn't leave me with granny anymore. In fact, Mom didn't feel safe in Albuquereque anymore. So for my safety and well-being, Mom left Dad and moved to Alameda.
Alameda is a suburb of San Francisco, and is actually a little island in the bay east of The City. In the 70's it had a major naval base at the north end of the island, and my mother went there because my grandpa (her father) was a civilian consultant stationed on the base.
Dad made an attempt to be a good father to me and moved to Alameda when I was two. He got a job, tried to supress his insatiable desire to party (I'll have to thank Dad for that quality too), and got Mom pregnant again with my little sister Jennifer. But then Dad slipped to his old ways, and the day that Jennifer was born, Mom had to choose between Dad and her own father being in the hospital room with her. She chose her father. Dad got pissed and moved back to Albuquerque before Mom left the hospital. Mom went back to the lookout where they had their first date, and where he had later proposed, and threw her wedding ring into the San Francisco bay as a symbol of letting him go forever (Isn't that sad?). He called three or four years later on Father's Day to talk to us, and we didn't hear from him again until 1988. I'll save that for another chapter.
We lived in Alameda until 1984. There is only one character from those years that I really want to talk about. His name was Helmut, and when I was about five (1981) he became the manager of our apartment building. Mom and him became friends immediately, and Helmut became the first important male figure in mine and Jennifer's lives. He taught me to swim, taught me to ride a bike, gave me my first paid job ($1 for cleaning the pool), and took us all out to eat a couple times each week. I think Mom really loved him though, and over the years I think she hoped that he would eventually make us a family. But in early 1984, my aunt Linda moved into the building, and Helmut and her started dating. It might have sucked for Mom, but I can't argue with their choice. Helmut and Linda are still together, 23 years later.
I have only vague memories of Mom trying to date other men. There was a guy who lost a hand in a firecracker accident who would never play with me because he was busy watching sports on television. There was a guy with a thousand laser discs who left Mom when he realized he was gay. And I think there was a Mormon. Then in June of 1984, when Mom was heartbroken over Helmut and Linda, she met a sailor named Chuck who was based in San Diego but working in Alameda for the summer. Eight weeks later they got married, and by summer's end we had begun our new life in the San Diego suburb of El Cajon.
Chuck was only my stepfather for two years, but he was crazy enough to deserve his very own chapter. So I'll leave that for later.
Thursday, January 3, 2008
I got yelled at in a club on New Years Eve
There are a lot of things I could talk about from my night out on New Years Eve, but the strangest part of the night was when a guy completely freaked out on me at the big party I attended.
The party was called After The Ball. It was in Times Square and started at 12:30 (just after the ball dropped). I went with friends Carl and Danny, and just after we all arrived we started hanging out with Andy, a friend of theirs.
I spent little time with Andy in the beginning of the night, but there was a time around 5am when he got very flirty and I responded in my usual slutty way. I won't describe in detail here, but my friends will have a good idea of the boundaries I can break on a dance floor. This lasted a couple minutes, and then we started walking around the club. As we walked by the coat check, I collided with a guy I had seen earlier in the night. Jorge was hot, and I told him so. Andy started checking his phone while Jorge and I told each other how adorable we were and Jorge took my phone number. Then Jorge put his coat on and left, and Andy and I continued to walk.
Andy told me as we walked back to the dance floor that Jorge would never call me because I didn't go home with him. He tried to explain how I was naive, and that I was living in denial if I thought I could get guys to go on dates with me before I slept with them. I told him that couldn't be true, because if I feel like dating, then there must be others who feel the same. He wouldn't stop though, and said I was unrealistic and living in a fantasy world. I told him once that I didn't like where the conversation was going, and he continued. Then I told him that the conversation was over, and walked away. He chased me onto the dance floor, grabbed my shoulder in an attempt to turn me around, and yelled, "Go back to California!"
Can you believe that shit?
I started laughing out of shock as I walked across the dance floor. At the other end of the floor I found Danny, and told him everything that just happened. By this point I was a little shaken. Was it true? Am I unrealistic? Danny gave me a big hug and assured me that, no, I am not unrealistic. Andy clearly felt rejected and had a little tantrum.
I was worried that Danny would think I was exaggerating the situation, so it was perfect that Andy walked up to us. I said, "You were a real dick." He said, "I not a dick, I'm a realist. You need to grow up." (Perfect, I thought). Danny said, "Andy, I think you should go back to the other side of the dance floor." Andy said, "No, you go!" So Danny walked with me to the other side of the floor, and that was that.
Andy, if you should read this, you are a poor pathetic man. At least I can empathize with your bitterness. People must treat an asshole like you horribly, and that really must be hard on you. Poor guy. :-(
Danny, if you read this, then I will thank you again for walking away with me. We aren't close yet, but the way you treated me says a lot for your character. I adore you even more now. Big kiss to you.
The party was called After The Ball. It was in Times Square and started at 12:30 (just after the ball dropped). I went with friends Carl and Danny, and just after we all arrived we started hanging out with Andy, a friend of theirs.
I spent little time with Andy in the beginning of the night, but there was a time around 5am when he got very flirty and I responded in my usual slutty way. I won't describe in detail here, but my friends will have a good idea of the boundaries I can break on a dance floor. This lasted a couple minutes, and then we started walking around the club. As we walked by the coat check, I collided with a guy I had seen earlier in the night. Jorge was hot, and I told him so. Andy started checking his phone while Jorge and I told each other how adorable we were and Jorge took my phone number. Then Jorge put his coat on and left, and Andy and I continued to walk.
Andy told me as we walked back to the dance floor that Jorge would never call me because I didn't go home with him. He tried to explain how I was naive, and that I was living in denial if I thought I could get guys to go on dates with me before I slept with them. I told him that couldn't be true, because if I feel like dating, then there must be others who feel the same. He wouldn't stop though, and said I was unrealistic and living in a fantasy world. I told him once that I didn't like where the conversation was going, and he continued. Then I told him that the conversation was over, and walked away. He chased me onto the dance floor, grabbed my shoulder in an attempt to turn me around, and yelled, "Go back to California!"
Can you believe that shit?
I started laughing out of shock as I walked across the dance floor. At the other end of the floor I found Danny, and told him everything that just happened. By this point I was a little shaken. Was it true? Am I unrealistic? Danny gave me a big hug and assured me that, no, I am not unrealistic. Andy clearly felt rejected and had a little tantrum.
I was worried that Danny would think I was exaggerating the situation, so it was perfect that Andy walked up to us. I said, "You were a real dick." He said, "I not a dick, I'm a realist. You need to grow up." (Perfect, I thought). Danny said, "Andy, I think you should go back to the other side of the dance floor." Andy said, "No, you go!" So Danny walked with me to the other side of the floor, and that was that.
Andy, if you should read this, you are a poor pathetic man. At least I can empathize with your bitterness. People must treat an asshole like you horribly, and that really must be hard on you. Poor guy. :-(
Danny, if you read this, then I will thank you again for walking away with me. We aren't close yet, but the way you treated me says a lot for your character. I adore you even more now. Big kiss to you.
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