Sunday, May 29, 2011

The Cuttings Up

My my my.  I had quite the day yesterday.  The original plan was to skip on up to Chicago to see Shirley Q. Liquor with my dear friend Blanche D’Almonds.  We got tickets last week, and I could not have been more excited.  I’ve been a fan of hers for years now, and I can recite much of her work from memory. In case you don’t know, she is a drag comedian who performs in black face.  There is much controversy over her work and if it’s edgy or racist (edgy, duh, not genuinely offensive. Even Ru Paul approves.  CASE CLOSED).  Then a few days ago, I get a random email from the ticketmaster I used, informing me that the event had been canceled.  BOO!  You just know it was because some douche bag, pretentious, overly-politically correct faggot (who himself is probably of the White Devil persuasion) got his panties in a bunch.  Or her house got flooded; she is from the South, mind you.  Anysniz.  Shit got canceled (I need to remember to check that my money is actually refunded btw).  It was unfortunate, but it didn’t change my plans.

As usual I fell in love on the train to Chicago.  The tiny scrawny hipster faggot who sat behind me had me trippin.  You know I had to take secret pictures.  I am such a creeper!

Well, his mouth is already open. . .

This ginger baby was my archnemesis for two hours and forty-five minutes:

"That baby is an asshole." -Samantha Jones

We also need to talk about how I’m going to get my ass kicked if I keep talking to people the way I do.  As I was exiting the train station, four older black women were entering.  We all had huge bags.  One of them and I started to go through at the same time, and it would have been fine if the woman had moved her bag two fucking inches.  Of course she wouldn’t.  I was forced to BACK UP and let all four of these slow motherfuckers amble through the doors.  As they were going through, I said, “ya’ll are some rude-ass bitches.”  What?!?  It was true.  And they were so in my way.  They didn’t even bother to respond.  Which made me think. . . Rosa Parks probably wasn't some inspirational figure.  She was a cranky bitch who couldn't be bothered to move out of the way.

Later last night Blanche and I were talking about homeless people.  And you can tell who the crackheads are because they ask for specific amounts.  You know, how much they have left to go before they can buy a rock basically.  So of course not a few minutes later, we walk past a guy asking for thirty-five cents.  And no, I don’t think he was going to make a phone cal; pay phones don’t even exist anymore.  So he asked us, and I replied, “girl, you gotta get that rock somewhere else.”

Hello, sailor!

Blanche wanted to go cut a rug, and the International Mr. Leather conference is going on, so we could always hit that up.  Boy howdy, did we.  IML is associated with the bear and leather communities.  What it really is, is kink.  Anything kink.  Think of it like a Comic Con of gay kink.  It’s taking place at the Hyatt Regency, and if you are remotely nearby, you need to stop what you’re doing and GO.  It’s happeneng through Monday, so get on that shit.  At first glance, you could tell there was something gay going on at this hotel.  We saw some obvious queers out by the entrance (later in the day they would gather practically naked out there), and we saw more and more skin as we worked our way through the bowels of this hotel to get to the event.  Here’s one of the first glimpses of what was to come:

After checking our IDs five hundred times, we made it in.  The space is HUGE.  It’s basically a place for vendors to sell and show off their shit.  Artists were able to set up mini galleries and hawk their work.  There were live demonstrations of things, and you could always just jump in a sling to see if it would be worth the exorbitant price.  All of the vendors and many of the attendees were dressed to the NINES in their ouchfits. 
The first demonstration we saw was kind of outrageous.  A subservient person was placed in a cube that is covered in rubber through a zippered opening.  He can either leave his head out, or be completely trapped inside.  Then they vacuumed the air out, so all you saw was the form of the person inside.  IT WAS LIKE A GAY HAN SOLO IN CARBONITE.  I was floored.  Then they’d flip the cube over to show all angles.  Or if the guy’s head was still peeping out, the guy running it would make out with him.  That was the beginning of the gagging of the day. 

I wish I got a better picture of this one.  She was serving Rocky Horror military realness:

OH! I clocked her in the background of another one:
Here is an action shot of a fuck machine.  Love how you can tell it’s actually moving and thrusting?

So we walked around and looked at everything, probably twice.  And just soaked in the ambiance.  It was insane.  It was such a spectacle.  There were so many sexy guys too.  We both regretted not wearing our harnesses.  There was some bizarre shit though.  The whole medical fetish thing is not for me, thank you.  Or how about dildos that are shaped like animal cocks?  No thank you.  There was also a buffet, and you would randomly see a guy in a jockstrap getting food.  That just seems unsanitary.  

We just happened to be looking at electric stimulation devices, and the vendor approached us.  We made the mistake of telling him we weren't familiar with it.  He launched into a LONG explanation.  Revealing all kinds of scary shit.  So you put an electrode on the base of the penis and one on the head.  Then you  mess with the voltage and blah blah blah it sounds awful.  Like torture.  He told us to stay below the waist as amateurs, but he's been playing above the waist for years.  That once he could feel it in his chest and that he bruised his heart.  He has to go to the hospital, and his ECG frightened the doctors, but he never said why it was wonky.  Blanche finally jumped in, saying "okay, well we'll be back. . ." but he wouldn't let us go.  It was another 10 minutes before we could escape.
We saw this guy waiting in line for the help desk:

"Feel my tail!" There are buttplugs with animal tail attachments.

Here's a scat chair and travel rimming chairs:

These hot black dominatrices were turning it out:

Here's a little blasphemy for you

And more:

This was a lovely shirt:

At the end of the convention day, people would just hang out outside like this.  It really was something else:

This skinny guy was actually pretty cute, nevermind the rubber kilt and PIG shirt:

Star of extremely dirty porn films, John Sullivan, was heading in just as we were leaving:

Blanche, her partner, and I went to a lovely tapas restaurant in Logan Square for dinner.  We had great conversation, and I had the best scallops EVER.  Those bitches melted like butter in my mouth.  Somehow we didn't get back to their place until late late.  So Blanche and I didn't even go out until midnight.  That is unheard of for my old ass.  We went to a place called Charlie's in Boystown, and we found that it was some sort of cowboy linedancing night.  We were only there for a hot minute.  Then we made our way to Roscoe's for some real dancing.  We were having a great time, getting our groove on.  I'm usually self-conscious when I dance, but I really let loose and just enjoyed myself.  We danced with a drag queen named Michelle whose birthday was last night.  She was cute and sweet.  Then out of nowhere, Blanche grabbed some guy's face with one hand, and I had no idea what was going on.  She kissed him hello, and I was even more confused, this guy looked dumbfounded.  Then he recognized Blanche.  Turns out they were great friends back in the day and worked together, and we were JUST looking at pictures of this guy before we left.  His name was Ken, and they hadn't seen each other in six years.  He lives in New York now and just happened to be in town for a wedding.  It was a random occurrence.  But oh so welcome.  Ken is sexy.  He's a half-Japanese hot piece of sniz.  And so so sweet and funny and nice.  I kind of fell in love.  So we danced a little with him and his friend Colin before deciding to his up some place else.

We were apparently going to meet up with Colin's friends, whom he warned us were "porn stars."  That is an overused term.  The three porn actors were NOT all that, but I'll get to that later.  It was already fairly late at this point, and I guess the porn actors needed a pick-me-up (aka of COURSE they wanted to do drugs, but no one was actually saying that). We wanted to hang out with Ken more, so we went back to one of the porn guy's apartment and chatted while the other guys disappeared into a back room for a while.  Ken was just a peach and a half.  He was so sweet and physically affectionate, but not in a creepy way.  We all had to smush to fit on this couch, and he took it upon himself to lie on me, cradled between my legs.  No problem there!  After a bit, he asked if I minded.  HELL TO THE NO.  Blanche and I immediately quoted Carrie Bradshaw, saying, "I just need to feel the weight of a man!"  And I did.  What I also loved about Ken was that he was in on so much of the lingo and jokes that Blanche and I use.  Early on into meeting him, he said "OKrrrrr" in the way that Shocantelle Brown does, and I just died.  Did I also mention he had the tastiest looking ass?  Well, he did.  At one point, this drag queen named Aurora showed up.  Apparently Ken  knew her from growing up, and they got to catch up.  It was sweet.  Aurora was lovely and so nice.  When I introduced myself, she went to air kiss me, and instead of even making a kissing motion in the air, she just placed her face next to mine.  It cracked me up.  She just needed a little work on her look. . .  I'm sorry, I'm not trying to be shady.  But you know reading is fundamental, and my library is ALWAYS open.  She must have had a few pancake makeup gift certificates, because her face was beat to within an inch of its life.  And her wig was FoB.  No, not fresh off the boat.  Fresh out the bag.  She needed to run a comb through it.  You have to style your wigs, children.  You can't just place it on yo head and hope for the best.  It looked like it was just sitting on top of her head.  

Perfect Ken, Colin, and Aurora

Also in attendance was a fierce black queen.  He was great.  I wish I caught his name.  I was just looking at him thinking "I bet he makes a gorgeous woman," when it was revealed he was a drag queen.  And he proceeded to show us picture after picture of himself up in yags.  And he sure did make a hot woman.  It turns out he is int he process of applying to Ru Paul's Drag Race.  It's his third try.  And apparently he's made it pretty far into the process, so he says he has a good chance of making it.  We'll see.  She was funny and nice, but homegirl acted like she was campaigning for prom queen.

The three actors were some of the shittiest fags I've ever encountered.  I sent this text to Blanche not long before we left: "I'm reading these shitty faggots in my mind for later when we discuss."  First of all, I would not fuck a one of them.  I don't know who is paying them to have sex on camera.  I'm sorry.  It has to be said.  The one whose apartment it was, completely ignored us, which was fine.  Actually, it was how I preferred it.  He was terrible, and I was grateful not to have to deal with him.  He had an adorable tiny dog that clearly did not get enough attention:

So he was awful, and when his friends left without his noticing, five minutes later, he got so pissed.  He was all coked out and wild and so offended that they left.  It was not a big deal.  The club was five minutes away, just go meet your friends.  He tried to get Aurora riled up, and she was like "what's the big deal?"  He insisted that no one could treat them like that.  UGh.  Eyeroll, just shut the fuck up.  Oh, Aurora had a hilarious moment that only the black queen and I noticed.  She was looking for a picture on her phone, which wasn't cooperating.  Then she pulled some bootleg shit and KNOCKED on her phone to get it to function.  Maybe you had to be there. . .  and then I got raped.  That's Blanche's and my new way to cap stories where we are losing our audience.  Whatever the situation, just end it with "and then I got raped."  ANYWAY.  Another actor had a short beard, and he was cute in the face, but the rest of him was crazy.  He had insnae proportions.  His upper body was so ripped and muscular, but his mid-torso down was super super skinny.  Anorexic skinny.  Scrawny chicken legs.  And he walked the way that guys do who want to look all muscular.  But that combined with a gay swish resulted in a very awkward strut.  He bent down to play with the dog at one point, and his shirt lifted up to reveal what I thought was another shirt.  It had such a weird line down the middle of his back that I had to look closely.  It wasn't a shirt, it was his scrawny ass spine.  Bitch was anorexic from the belly button down and roided out above that.  It was bizarre.

Then there was the last one.  He just looked like a douche.  He carried himself that way.  The tan and the big tacky diamond earrings didn't help.  Whilst reading them with Blanche afterward, I had to describe him in great detail before Blanche remembered who he was.  As I said he was  "forgettable.  So forgettable."  

So we finally all parted ways, and Blanche and I headed back to her place to get ready for bed and have a chat.  We had some great heart-to-hearts during my visit, and she gets me in a way that no one else does.  I can really let my fag flag fly with her.  She's truly a great friend, and our little visits recharge me.  I can't wait to see what other misadventures we'll get into.

We saw so many trannies and drag queens on the way back to his place, so you know I was pleased.  There was one busted black tranny with a BAD blonde braided weave who cracked us up.  We all crossed the street, and a taxi came close to us, waiting to turn.  "SLOW DOWN, HONDA!  Slow down, muthafucka, this shit is serious."  It was a lovely cap to a lovely evening.

I did learn on new thing.  Apparently it's the L.A. equivalent of saying "girl."  We already shorten it to "gir," but now it's "gra."  Kind of like bro gets changed to bra.  It's hard to explain how to say it, but you have to put your diaphragm into it and really exhale when you say it and let it drop off.

Here's one last image for your nerves.  Blanche and I made some small purchases at IML, each of us getting leather cock rings.  You know, just a little cock bling.  We immediately put them on as bracelets and wore them that way the rest of the night.  No one spooked us on it.

Thursday, May 26, 2011

Mia: Jewess, Wordsmith, Comedienne

"Oh you got a ouchfit?"

This morning I was tasked with writing a report for some events I worked at over a month ago.  I don't remember any of those details!  What time was set-up?  Who was there?  How long?  Any costs?  What did we display?  How was it displayed? What did we hand out?  How many people did we talk to?   On the trill?  That is trippin because I don't know that shit.  I just had to estimate.  When I relayed this to my friend Mia, her response was this:

Here is your summary "Lots of sluts stopped by our booth to get free condoms and pregnancy kits, they supplied their own wire hangers if the pregnancy tests came out badly. It took place on a thursday, it took three hot seconds to set up (i just threw some pills on the table and screamed FREE PUSSY PROTECTION). I was there for an excruciating hour and I set it on fire at the end so I wouldn't have to pack anything up. Three horny co-eds stopped by and they suggested that next year we do free abortions at the fair! I think It's a great idea!"

1 to 10, how much do you love me?
How mazongballs is that?  I had to go to the bathroom and laugh because I was starting to make a scene.  Oh yeah, I'm making MAZONG happen.  At least for Mia and me.  It was a typo once, but we've been rolling with it.  Now at least the word predictor in the typing program of my phone knows it.  Just like it knows that when I write "pancake," the next words are most likely going to be "makeup gift certificate" #Starrbooty.  Am I allowed to just hashtag something like that?  Too bad.  I'm forcing it upon your eyes.  Ocular rape.

Wednesday, May 25, 2011

"Cellar Door" Has Nothing On This

WAGON WHEEL WATUSI.  As uttered by Cher, that is the most beautiful phrase in all of language. 

Saturday, May 21, 2011

Friday, May 20, 2011


Word is Erica Ash is toxic cunt, but this piece of comedy is fantastic.  This is basically my inner personality that comes out from time to time.

No She Didn't

Dumbledore sho did read Voldemort to filth

Textual Intercourse

The brand is half the battle.  But you'll never get Blanche's secrets from me.   Better chance of tricking me out of my bag of Jew gold

Blanche D'Almonds, of the Manhattan D'Almonds, was giving me tips on how to make the perfect matzo balls.  And if anyone knows balls, it's her.  Like most things that happen to me, this ends up being funny.  And a little racist.

me:  got damn I love that shit.  never made it though

blanche:  i really do too. really? so easy but there are a few tricks naturally.

blanche: Jews love tricks.

blanche:  but i don't have to tell you.

me: that was fantastic

blanche:  faggots love stunts

blanche:  so i would stay on your good side.

blanche:  I don't need some tricky stunt.

me:  Tricky Jewfaggot stunts

me:  I'm full of them

blanche:  Lord

blanche:  No

blanche:  I'll be nice

Textual Intercourse

Blanche: good old American gay sex

me: America: apple pie and buttsex

Blanche: yes child

me: you could be a rapper with all that cash

me: you could be a farmer in those clothes

Blanche: I am a farmer

me: Ass farmer

me: bc your ass gets plowed!

Sunday, May 1, 2011

Golden Shower Girls

New Sienna D'enema video!

Most Hungry Power Bottom Tranny Award

Phew.  What a great weekend.  I got the chance to finally meet my podcast cohost Travis in the flesh.  I trained up to Chicago Saturday morning, and true to form, there were several cute guys on my train.  The problem is that so many of them are metrosexual, and I can’t figure out what they are.  Which shouldn’t matter, but for some reason it is important to my fantasies of fucking them in the bathroom. 
exhibit A

I’m not going to go into great detail here because we cover pretty much everything in a special in-person recording of One and a Half F*gs that we did earlier today.  Suffice it to say, it was the most TRANTASTIC 24-hour period of my life.  Sasha Colby still reigns as best female impersonator and performer.  Period.  Here’s something we failed to mention on the recording:  The group in front of us was all bridal group, and the bride came over to greet them.  She air kissed every last one of those sluts on each cheek.  After three times, I asked Travis if this bitch was going to do that to everyone.  She sure did.  It took a good five minutes.  Then as we were walking in, a girl in front of my pointed to Sasha’s picture and said “I would be her.  I would be it.”  After you listen to the show you will know that I get righteously pissed off when people pull that kind of stunt.    I immediately put on a judgy face with a disgusted sneer and a MAD stink eye.  Bitch must have felt the daggers of pure white hate penetrating her thick skull, because she turned around and got a full dose to her FACE.  I SHAMED that bitch.  Then I said to Travis loudly, “fuck that bitch, I can see her extensions anyway.”  What?  I could.  She had messy Britney Spears style crap extensions.

So here are some highlights:

These amazing paintings are available at the comics store in Boystown.   

I really wanted to just snatch all of them up, but I got the three that I deemed best:




At the bars, I wasn’t getting enough attention to soothe my fragile ego, so I texted Brady.  His advice was “slut up your outfit. Show a little sniz.”  Ha, that wasn’t really an option.  So although I wasn’t getting eyefucked to satisfaction, I signed into Snizdr.  It started off slowly, but I ended up getting plenty of flattering there.  Then this morning we conducted a little experiment.  I posted a Craigsniz ad with a shirtless picture of myself, including my FACE.  Don't go looking for it, I already snatched it down.  But I got plenty of responses, and hot DAMN, some of them make me want to move.  There was one guy in particular.  It's funny though, I realized that he also wrote to me on Snizdr, where he claimed he was 23.  On Craigsniz, he claimed 27.   Which probably means he's around 33.  Faggot math is a little tricky.  Anyway.... he was short, pale, and Jewy.  That is my holy trinity of sniz.

More randoms:
Evidence of Travis' fancy eating habits
BAM. Too bad it was the same time as the show we went to.

This chawld had the nerve to tag in daylight along a bus route.

Platform wedges, regardless of material, are never acceptable.

Patrons of the 3:00 a.m. redline train.
I would have proposed had he been in my car on the train back to town.