I’m so over 2006

Do yourself a favor and click on the following link to watch the genius Tranny McGuyver starring the incomparable Willam Belli…

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9T-8PdKQ5tk

I’m off to Los Angeles tonight to celebrate the New Year in style. Alright, ok, you got me. I’m off to Los Angeles to be a slut. You don’t have to be a rocket scientist to know that I am going to spend my entire weekend eating ungodly amounts of food covered in Tabasco, drinking alcoholic beverages mainly consisting of Stoli, and sucking random cock with a hope of getting some hot jizz smeared on my face… all on little sleep of course. You only live once, and that is why this New Year’s Eve will be out-fucking-rageous.

Those Things

I want Shirley Manson’s heel in my back!

Bitterness cookies anyone?

What’s the holiday season without some bitterness right? I like to think of bitterness at this time of year as tradition. I welcome it like an old friend, or an old trick that was really good at sucking your cock. The peak of my bitterness was reached yesterday as my day went from bad to worse then back to bad with a little bit of good thrown in to remind me of how the rest of my day had gone.

The following is a list of the things that made my day dreadful:

- Not hitting the gym
- Work
- Silence @ Work
- Headache/Migraine
- The Pepsi I drank that did not help rid my headache
- KiKi
- M.Go
- M.Go’s loud music
- KiKi & M.Go’s chatter
- Masturbation
- Casa Norte’s parking space situation
- Bimbo who swooped up my parking space after I went back outside to move my vehicle
- Shower
- No iron
- Sketchers
- More headache
- Sleeplessness

Good thing that I met up with Raya Light’s mother, Raya Light, and Woods for dinner otherwise I would have snapped! Post dinner activities included a viewing of Glen Morgan’s redux of Bob Clark’s classic “Black Christmas”. All I will say at this time is it should have been called “Final Destination 4: Black Christmas as done by The Weinsteins”. Lovely indeed. (insert sarcasm here)

Happy BELATED Birthday Jesus!

While a large chunk of Americans celebrated the birth of the much hyped figure known at Jesus Christ and his gay lover Santa Claus yesterday, something truly depressing happened over this “joyous” day…

Military deaths in Iraq exceed 9/11 toll

By LARRY McSHANE, Associated Press Writer Tue Dec 26, 10:38 AM ET

NEW YORK - In a span of a few hours, 2,973 people were killed in the Sept. 11, 2001, terrorist attacks. In a span of 45 months, the number of American troops killed in Iraq exceeded that grim toll as the war continues.

The milestone in Iraq came on Christmas, nearly four years after the war began, according to a count by The Associated Press.

The U.S. military on Tuesday announced the deaths of six more American soldiers, pushing the U.S. military death toll since the beginning of the Iraq war in March 2003 to at least 2,977 — four more than the number killed in the Sept. 11 attacks in New York, Washington and Pennsylvania.

President Bush has said that the Iraq war is part of the United States' post-Sept. 11 approach to threats abroad, and that going on the offense against enemies before they could harm Americans meant removing the Taliban from power in

Afghanistan, pursuing members of al-Qaida and seeking regime change in Iraq.

Democratic leaders point out that there has not been any credible evidence linking Iraq to the Sept. 11 attacks and have said the war in Iraq detracted from efforts against al-Qaida and other terrorist groups.

"The president believes that every life is precious and he grieves for each one that is lost," deputy White House press secretary Scott Stanzel said Tuesday. "The hardest decision the president has ever made has been to send our young men and women in uniform into harm's way.

"The president will ensure that their sacrifice was not made in vain."

The 9/11 death toll includes the 2,749 killed at the World Trade Center, 184 at the Pentagon and 40 passengers aboard United Flight 93.

Those killed in Iraq came from across the United States, including more than 50 residents of Alabama, more than 30 from Nebraska and more than 40 from Kentucky.

A number of them enlisted to fight in Iraq, feeling it was a way to battle international terrorism in the wake of the 9/11 attacks.

Jonathan Lootens, from upstate New York, joined the Army, telling family members: "This is something I have to do."

"It did impact him and make him feel like he should serve," his father, Robert Lootens, said Tuesday. "He felt that this was his time."

The 25-year-old sergeant was killed during his second tour of duty when a roadside bomb went off near his vehicle in the city of Kirkuk. His father says more than enough Americans have died in the conflict.

"I want the boys to come home, you know," he said. "Personally, I can't see where we're really accomplishing anything over there anymore."

Marine Lance Cpl. John Edward Hale was only 15 and living in Louisiana when the planes hit the World Trade Center. He joined the Marines last year after high school, and had been in Iraq only three months when he was killed by a roadside bomb.

Michael Glover joined the Marines after his boyhood neighborhood — the Belle Harbor section of Queens — lost several residents in the Sept. 11 attacks. One of his best friends, an equities trader at Cantor Fitzgerald LP, was among those who died at the trade center.

Glover was killed by a sniper while on patrol in Fallujah.

The rising death toll was an emotional reminder of loss for family members of Sept. 11 victims, some who said the war had gone on long enough. Sally Regenhard's son Christian, a firefighter and a Marine, was killed at the trade center on Sept. 11.

"I just would like this war to stop in whatever way we need to," Regenhard said. "I can hardly tolerate it when I see these beautiful people. It reminds me of my son. ... These people are being massacred."

Associated Press writer Amy Westfeldt contributed to this story.

It sickens me that “our” women and men are over “there” defending our country over corporate bullshit. Sure, the Christians will tell you that we need to get rid of “dem Islamic ter-ror-ists”, but none of those dumbfucks can even muster up the truth as to why we are over there. On the other hand, I can’t blame those idiots too much for not knowing as stories like the one above are so difficult to locate.

It’s unfortunate that this kind of news gets buried underneath such hard hitting articles regarding how Angelina Jolie spent her Christmas and the baptism of Jennifer Garner & Ben Affleck’s daughter. This piece was completely hard to find under all of that rubbish that is thrown in our faces in hopes that we “forget” about the war.

It’s definitely a fucked up world we live in when we have to search out stories about the current state of Iraq. Not to mention stories about the evil doings of corporate America. It’s quite frightening really. All of these supposedly informative news pieces are spoon fed to us by some corporate conglomerate(s). But then again, do you think millions of Americans care about the real issues? Of course not. They were all too busy at the malls this holiday season acting like rabid chimpanzees clutching to their faux designer fragrances and shit squatting Elmos.

I on the other hand did not even walk into a mall this year. I originally wanted to get really toasted and walk through the mall, but I came to the realization that I didn’t have time for that. I was too busy working, weight training, eating, watching movies, and sleeping. I guess I’m not feeding the economy by shelling out my money at the local Macy’s or Nordstrom’s. Then again, my money did hit the Tower Records' Going Out Of Business Sale. I’m actually happy it’s finally closed. Now I don’t feel the magnetic pull of my body to the store front. Whew.

Putting the tranny back into Christmas!

Happy HO-lidays!

As you can see down below, this year’s holiday tree included a visit from a very special tree topper… the infamous Raya Light doll!

Check out the prize blue balls she's sporting as earrings…

I want to come down your chimney

I’m off to Tucson tonight. I’m going to spend all day tomorrow lounging around my mom’s Barrio Central home with my mom, nana, brother, sister, niece, MommaT, and Woods watching movies and stuffing our faces with tamales, deviled eggs, shrimp cocktails, and Eegee’s! It’s the perfect antidote for that awful holiday cheer that is plaguing our society these days. This is why I will be at the Midnight showing of “Christmas Evil” at The Loft Cinemas tomorrow night as well. Nothing says you better be good or else like a little slicing and dicing by the fat man himself Jolly Ole Saint Nick!


I will be returning to hell, I mean San Diego, on Christmas Eve so I can spend the entire Christmas Day at Casa Norte. This will be last holiday here in this city so I want to make the most of it. And by most of it, I mean eating ass by the fire place.

I'm hoping this time next year I will be twirling around a stripper pole that is oh-so-wonderfully placed next to the Tranny’d out Christmas Tree in our (Woods + mine) home or apartment in the Los Angeles neighborhood of Silverlake. A Christmas isn’t classy unless you have someone working a pole for dollar bills.

Whatcha lookin' at bwoy?

I think I'm in love...

What does it mean to be Number 1?

I normally don’t post or repost Bulletins from myspace, but every now and then I do enjoy reading and completing those silly questionnaires that are considered by most as time wasters. I read the one that Flipper sent out on Friday so I decided to take a stab at it. And instead of posting it on myspace, I thought I would just post it here on my blog for you all to read…

Can you answer 21 questions about your number 1?
Body: Can you answer 21 questions about your number 1?
Body: DON'T change your top friends, and answer 21 questions about the 1st person in your top friends.

1) What's his/her name?
Woods

2).Do you trust them?
Of course – otherwise the CDs would be locked up!

3) Where did you meet them?
Online… I know, I’m a cyberslut

4) How old were you when you first met?
27-ish

5) Is this person one of your best friends?
I don’t like the term best friend… how about Great Friend, or better yet Partner In Crime

6) Say something that only makes sense to you and them.
Seventeen!

7) Is this person older than you?
Age is nothing but a number

8) When was the last time you saw them?
This morning – right after I got done riding his face

9) When was the last time you talked to them on the phone?
Earlier this morning – I had to tell him that I missed my period, again

10) Are you their b/f or g/f?
Neither, he’s my Partner In Crime

11) Do you have nicknames for each other?
Yes, a few actually – I'm too angelic to list such disgusting filth!

12) How many times do you talk/write to this person in a week?
Often, especially when I run into him cruising at the local bookstore

13) Do you think the person will repost this?
Seriously doubt that

14) Could you live with this person?
I am currently living with this person, and surprisingly he hasn’t killed me yet

15) What do you think this person is doing right now?
Fucking some Latin guy’s ass

16) Why is this person number one on your top 8?
Because he tops me with his 8! And because he is my numero uno Partner In Crime

17) Have you seen this person cry?
Why yes I have – a real man is not afraid to cry!

18) Do you know this person's middle name?
Yes, I do – Aloysius!

19) Where do you see yourself with this person 5 years from now?
Living in Los Angeles AND San Francisco co-owning a sex club and/or porn company

20) Do you remember their cell phone number?
Yes, I love to write it on various men’s room stalls

21) What’s one of the most embarrassing moments that you have?
None of the moments have been embarrassing to be honest unless you count a certain incident that involved a queef, a sling, and a drippage of saliva

Rips my heart to pieces

My new favorite band.



Jesika von Rabbit, will you marry me?

Perra Maximus

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Y'all want some of my chicken?

Bust out the Red Rooster...

Dirty Thirty

I’m officially thirty years old as of yesterday.

The question I kept getting all day was “Do you feel thirty years old?” I didn’t know how to answer since I wasn’t aware there was a certain way to feel thirty years old. I’ve always believe that you are as young as you feel – which makes me sixteen actually.

And I believe that age is nothing but a number. Unfortunately, the gay community doesn’t see it like this. Younger is always better right? Wrong. I’ve always felt that being younger makes you more naïve in the sense that you are trying to figure yourself out. Besides, an older more masculine looking physique always looks hotter than some twinkie hairless houseboy. Oh, there’s my cunty gayness coming out!

The question that does haunt me internally is “What do I foresee me doing in my thirties?” Well, I see myself moving to Los Angeles within six months. I see myself working on my health including the weight training I have been doing at the gym the past couple of years. I see myself writing more, and pushing the limits on what subjects I tackle. I see myself becoming more of a slut so I can have even more sex as humanly possible – I’m not kidding. I see myself dabbling in all art forms – performance, painting, and so forth. I see myself seriously focusing on a career involving entertainment, or sex, or both. I see myself traveling more… fuck, like I don’t travel enough, but I do want to go down to Arizona more so I can spoil my niece.

There is so much to do in life that I don’t want any moment to go by where I can wonder “what if?” I want to do it and try as much as possible. I welcome my thirties with open arms. And open legs.

Happy SLAPsgiving

Thanksgiving 2006 was, well interesting… to say the least. I brought LadyE, Timofy and Woods with me to Tucson for the annual Turkey Day dinner at the Rivera’s house of choice – the typical location of my aunt’s casa over in Barrio Hollywood. Dinner was the usual casual feast of family gossip and whatnot. Things did heat up when I got into a verbal tangle with one of my aunts about the whereabouts of my sister Mandah and my new baby niece Alma. Luckily, the fire was put out before it was dowsed with emotional lighter fluid.

Post dinner activities included a stop at the very much missed Loft Cinemas to catch John Cameron Mitchell’s tour de force “Shortbus” – which is now one of my favorite movies of 2006, and of all time as well. The Loft Cinemas is this little indie movie house that is very chic, so chic that they even serve beer at the concession stand. Now that is classy!

We also stopped by the local gay dance club IBTs on the way back to my grandmother’s house (where we were all staying at) for a drink or four. We ran into one of my favorite queens in all of Tucson – the one and only Janee' Starr. She told us stories about Thanksgiving dinners and cock sucking. Those two subjects go hand in hand if you ask me.

Friday included a trip up to Phoenix to hang out with the Honey Caramel Nunie herself Sims who was visiting all the way from STL. I even got to catch up with my favorite sexy Scorpio StrawberryKrush who met up with us at Fat Tuesday on Mill Avenue in Tempe. I wasn’t surprised that we all ended the night at some random hetero bar in Scottsdale – even tho the intention was to end up at some Reggae club which was currently non-existent.

The later part of the evening, or early morning – depending on how you look at it, took us to Castle Boutique for some sex education. Castle Boutique is one of Phoenix top notch adult bookstores. I got a lesson from LadyE and Woods on what not to do in an adult bookstore… both of them were scolded by the shop’s employees not to “test out” the flogging materials. What the employee didn’t know was that Woods was going to purchase that piece of erotica for LadyE. Christmas came early for her – literally.

All that sex made us hungry, so we jumped ship for some food at IHOP where Timofy and Woods practically undressed the male waitresses with their eyes in hope of a tryst with one of them in the restroom. Of course this was not understood by StrawberryKrush who made it VERY clear that she didn’t speak Gaybonics.

Gaybonics – my new favorite word by the way.

Saturday night was, well, what I can say without sounding like a total cunt… fascinating. LadyE, Timofy, Woods and myself met up with Stella Virgin, Rog, and friends at the Venture Inn – which is a leather/levi bar in Tucson. While cocktails were drank, and the night progressed, a conversation was created around my life. At first, I found it to be quite eye opening, but soon I found it to be amusing, and by the end I decided to absorb it as constructive criticism.

I did find a couple of subjects and statements quite disturbing that they lingered with me for days after.

LadyE made it known to me that I never once expressed on what I was going to do once in LA. I know for a fact that I have talked about it quite often to numerous people including her in the past. But the majority of the time when we (her and I) do hang out and chat, it’s usually about certain sexual escapades mostly from her end, and her studious school life. She also brought up that I was going to be 30 the following weekend and I still hadn’t figured out what I was going to do with my life – this is where my mother’s raising techniques came into question. Of course, I got quite defense about this, because who is she to tell me how *I* should live *MY* life. Unfortunately, it seemed she didn’t understand that not all of us are the PhD pursuing type.

Stella informed me that it was very weird for her post Timofy/Whip breakup and she was closer to Timofy for some time. That was news to me. Sadly, this opened up a whole different can of worms that morphed into some weird loud talkage about how I fucked Timofy over in the breakup. “Ah yes, this old issue” I thought to myself once it was established that the rest of the gabfest would head this way. LadyE told me once again that she and Timofy had been brewing up ways to get rid of me (joking, but figuratively speaking) soon after it was announced that we went our different ways. She brought Woods into the picture as she sarcastically joked about offing him because Timofy was her friend – and she would do anything for him.

Of course, it was ALL my fault.

It was very clear to me that my friends had no idea what happened with Timofy and I. And that was because it was none of their damn business. I chose to keep my business private and not to talk about it amongst the friends that Timofy and I shared. He decided otherwise, and discussed it with them. So there was one side of the story that they were living off of. How sad really. I personally rarely make my decision on how I feel about someone’s personal matter until I get to exam both sides of the coin. I thought they were bigger than this, so I was quite upset – for a moment.

I was told at the end of this entire rap session that if I had included them in on the breakup and told my side of the story they would have seen it differently. Bullshit. They were going to believe Timofy no matter what. Since I supposedly left Timofy for Woods it made Timofy into a complete victim. And the “victim” always gets the sympathy. And what made matters worse at that time was how well Woods and I interacted with one another – since we always acted like giggling school girls.

There was one very cuntilicious thing I wished I could have said to them at the time which was “When you get through a six+ year relationship, then you can tell me how to handle this type of situation”. Of course, none of those perras have ever been in a six+ year relationship. But that is the way the cookie crumbles right? We always can give advice when we don’t know what the hell we are talking about. Typical.

Eventually the convo that night came to a screeching halt about 10 minutes to 2am. We downed our drinks so we could hop over Titopant’s pad for some post-bar after hours partying. It was nice to end the night at my brothers place watching Taco getting it on with Rog’s arm, and then running away from Janee' Starr who had turned into Cruella DeVil thanks to some Tequila. And to think that bitch works at Petco. Poor animals.

ImPEACHed Bush

I wanna be her.

Post-Pageant Madness

All hail the queen – Raya Light!

Yup, it’s official. That bitch won the 11th annual Miss Trannyshack Pageant. She rightfully snatched the winning title after an outstanding performance that was highly original, deeply mind fucking, and completely awe striking. It was definitely the talk of the evening. And I’m sure it will be the talk for years to come. I’m not saying all of this because Raya is a good friend of mine, but I am saying it because it was all of those things I described. And not to say the other “ladies” didn’t deserve it, but Raya DID “bring it”.

I did enjoy Poison Ivy’s number very much. I mean c’mon how could you not go wrong with seeing some old school 80’s freestyle with some sweet choreographed line up in the background. She had the crowd bumping and jumping. I also loved Holy McGrail’s hair rising selection that brought the true ghetto fabulousity all the way from Oakland. Nothing says ghetto like some gun shots post song. Genius.

Woods and I had access to the upper level since Raya got us to prance onstage in a black jockstrap, black rubber fisherman boots, a yellow rain hat, & dark lipstick during her swimsuit portion. We both decided it was better to stay in that get up than put back on our fashionable street clothes since it was so damn hot in the hall. And from what I could tell, the place was balls to the wall packed with a couple of thousand boozed up folk.

Backstage was a total hoot watching a very intoxicated Parker Posey pose for pictures with trannies, Lady Bunny fondling my package with her lady lumps, various San Francisco known homos trying to coyly stare at the front of my jockstrap, Alexis Arquette not being rude to BJ and Lady Miss Kier singing her way through the very congested hallway.

I do have to mention how small the dressing rooms were. Raya was sharing a space with Poison Ivy – not to mention the bar! While Woods and I were changing from our dressy Raya Light wear into our BIKE athletic supporters, a photographer was in there with us snapping pictures of our floppy body parts. Not that I am complaining since I am somewhat of an exhibitionist, but it was very hard to do all of that with 7 people in a room the size of a motel bathroom and various individuals coming in & out to freshen up their cocktails.

I do have to say that it was one of the best nights I have had in San Francisco. And I can thank Raya for including me (and BJ & Woods) in on all of it.

Pre-Pageant Madness

I head up to San Fran this eve with Woods for an exciting weekend planned with leather bars, sex clubs and trannies!

Actually, our main focus of our trip is to attend the annual Trannyshack Pageant on Saturday so we can cheer for the one and only Raya Light who is competing again. I know she has something special up her sleeve so all the anticipating is making my panties extremely moist.

You can definitely count on me having a good time since I packed my slutty underwear. But then again, all of my underwear is slutty.

MEDematics

Pill (Dizziness + Queasiness + Headache) x Work = WhipCUNT

It’s show(er) time!

Lower Back Tattoo Guy (LBTG) and I have been cruising each other at the gym for the past month or so. We even had a little “shower show” a couple of weeks back. He was very coy at first, but within seconds he was, um, at attention. Ever since then, I have always caught him staring at me. And vice versa. One day last week, he smiled at me as he left the locker room. I guess he is feeling me out due to the hetero drenched environment.

Game on.

Last evening when I started my workout I did not spot LBTG anywhere in the facility. I went about my normal upper body routine while Woods, my work out partner, focused on my lower body. As I approached my third exercise, I noticed out of the corner of my eye a man in bright blue shorts & a hunter green fleece sweater. I turned my head to get a better look and it was LBTG rocking out to his iPod.

As I moved from one machine to another, I spotted him at various areas in the club looking at me. When I approached the last section of my workout, I noticed that he was drowning out his workout – not really doing much of anything other than standing around doing his best to look busy. Was he doing this because of me? Was he attempting to lay low in hopes of following me into the locker room? I was speculating, but it sure felt like he was waiting for me to finish up. Woods agreed.

Once at my locker, I begin to gather my things so I could undress then shower. Within seconds he appears just a few lockers down from me. He proceeds to undress quickly and scurries over to shower stalls. I waited it out for a bit, taking my time. Within a few minutes I was over in a shower stall myself. Unfortunately I couldn’t place myself in good view as Woods and some damn Mexican Rocker had occupied the stalls across from LBTG. Oh well.

I had just started to lather up as I eye’d LBTG drying off. He didn’t make any eye contact with me at all. Instead he got wrapped himself in his green towel and walked out of the area – to the locker room I assumed. I figured I had missed my opportunity. Oh well again.

I enjoyed the heat of the water for about 10 minutes before deciding to turn it off and towel myself dry. I opened the curtain of the stall to let some of the cooler air in and saw Woods walk pass heading back to the lockers to dress up. I leaned down a bit to wipe to water off of my feet when I notice LBTG’s bright blue shorts. I look up and it was him – LBTG. He smiles at me as he gets into the shower stall catty corner from mine which provides a very clear view inside when the curtain is positioned correctly – which he positioned perfectly. I decide to put an end to my drying off ritual and turn the shower back on. I placed my curtain in such a way that LBTG could see all of me. We had completely clear views of each other. From what I could tell, we were the only two in the shower area. The Mexican Rocker had apparently removed himself from the stall he was hogging.

LBTG started to lather up. I pulled the soap out of my bag again to make sure it looked like I was (re)showering. As he proceeded with his cleaning, things began to enlarge. His eyes open wide, a smile was shot to me and he licked his lips. I began to think that something was really going to happen. A couple of minutes ticked by before I peered out behind my curtain to see if there was anyone else in the area – there was only one in the end stall who had passed by just seconds earlier. As I began to motion my head to invite him into my stall, Woods’ head appears between the curtain and the tile on the wall.

Woods: (snarkily) “Going for round two?”

Whip: “Um, no” (making eye movements in attempting to inform him that I was “busy”)

Woods: “Huh?”

Whip: (whisperly) “LBTG is in the other stall”

Woods: “Oh”

Woods disappears. I try to regain myself as I lost a bit of the juice. I look back at LBTG. He looks a bit jumbled. He was definitely not expecting Woods to appear. I work myself back up just a little. He tries to as well, but the moment has seemed to be diminished. I proceed with my head nod motion inviting him over. He declines, but provides me with a smile. I smile in return while I put my hand up to let him know that “it’s cool, next time” (hopefully).

Plan foiled.

He turns off the shower and pulls his towel from the hanging hook to being drying himself. I do that same. We eyeball each other as we dry. He smiles and makes a facial expression informing me that he is impressed with, um, my manliness. I’m flattered. I return an equal expression of hunger. He wraps the towel around his waist. As he exits, he smiles at me again.

Before I get out of the stall, I notice that LBTG left his bright blue shorts hanging on the other hook. I wanted to grab the shorts in order to give them to him, but I decided it was best not to. I instead got out and walked over to my locker. I spot Woods moving over a bit so LBTG could get into the cabinet that is holding his belongings. I approach the confined space to unlock my fashionable purple Master Lock. I pull out my toothpaste graffiti’d Adidas bag and rummage through my cottonables.

Once my favorite H&M cargos & old school AF tee are on, I slip my feet into some flip flops and head back into the shower stall area to grab LBTG’s bright blue shorts. He is grateful when I return the somewhat moist shorts to him. He smiles. I smile back. He then ties the last knot on his shoe. He stands up, pulls his gym back onto his shoulder and bones out. I sigh, and then think to myself “next time, bitch”.

Game over.

Too Nauseated To Fuck

I walked out of “Saw III” three times last night – and not because of gore. I’ve seen countless horror films over the past 29 years of my life, and nothing has disgusted me enough to turn away from the screen. I made a hasty exit due to the fact that I got motion sickness.

I had two free passes to catch Hilary Swank teaching inner city youth to write in “Freedom Writer’s Diary”. I had won the tickets from work. Woods & I got there 15 minutes prior to showtime only to discover a completely full house. We made a wise decision not to tangle for a seat amongst the ghetto youth occupying the theatre, so we hopped over to “Saw III” instead. I know I know... how ghetto fab of us.

I don’t know what possessed us to sit “closer” to the screen, but it was a definitely bad decision – for me anyway. I made it through the first hour just fine, but when the 61 minute hit I felt the nausea kick in. I thought it was the movie snack food which consisted of popcorn and jalapenos creeping back up my throat. Nope, that wasn’t it. It was the same feeling I get when I read a book or magazine while in the moving car. The same feeling I get when I ride one of those horrible carnival rides that spin in circles. The same feeling I got during “The Bourne Supremacy”. I knew I had to make a run for the door. I jumped over Woods and made a b-line out to the lobby.

I stayed in front of the concession stand for a few minutes to catch a bit of composure. I trailed back inside the theatre and placed myself back next to Woods. More bloody mayhem mixed with MTV style video editing did not sit well with me. Again, I leaped back over Woods’ lap to escape – this time with an empty soda cup. For once, I was able to fulfill the “free refill” option.

While on my way back to the theatre, I spotted Woods walking towards me concerned. I told him what was going on and that I was going to be fine. We returned to the movie.

Upon my third seating, I tried my hardest not to let any movement from the screen upset my stomach. The last thing I wanted was to vomit in that confined space. Actually, it seemed as if someone had beaten me to it since the theatre reeked lightly of puke. I was able to flash my eyelids open and close very quickly to keep the amounts of visuals to a limit. I downed enormous amounts of the cold carbonated beverage hoping that it would make the movie reach its final moments. I did everything I could not to make the matter worse.

Luckily, the grim ending approached. I was able to sit up and stare at the film with a slight feeling of confidence. I knew I would be out of there shortly. I devoted myself to the movie with high hopes of a phenomenal twist of a conclusion that has made the previous “Saw” entries so original. What I got was something almost lackluster and oh-so-typical. This added with eyes that burned red, a stomach that bubbled, and a raging headache made for a Whip not so happy. The credits rolled and the house lights came up. I wobbled out of there more knowledgeable than the 107 minutes before. I knew I would never sit that close to the screen again.

Jesus loves you, he’s not IN LOVE with you

I do have to say that the only time you will catch me on my knees in front of a white man flexing his abs while I worship his massive greatness will be at a sex club.

With that being said, you can safely say that I am no longer religious, and I haven’t been for some time now. My thoughts about becoming an atheist turned into reality a few months ago. I came to the conclusion that religion was another form of brain washing by doing some researching on the subject. I believe that Jesus Christ was an actual human being, but not a devout spirit the Christians make him out to be. If he did rise after death, then that would have made him a zombie. And so far, the only zombies I know of are in some of my favorite horror films.

My newly founded atheism prompted my decision to take on Jesus Christ Tranny Hooker (Tranny Christ) as my Halloween costume this year. I knew from the get-go that this would be very controversial. I was really shooting for camp, but ended up with a mockery of sorts – just like when you have a “sexy” Santa Claus or a “sexy” Mrs. Claus, I had a “sexy” Jesus Christ with boobs, and a cock – selling it for crack money.

One of my first concerns after confirming on this decadent outfit was fore-warning my very religious cousin Lari. I knew the Halloween pictures would end up on my myspace profile so I wanted to be respectful of her since she was currently placed in my Top 20, and vice versa. I sent her an e-mail informing her that I planned to do something very outrageous that she would, more than likely, find offensive. She replied to my warning by saying that she would not take me down. I sent her another e-mail that expanded on my initial message. She still did not take me down.

Halloween came and went. I officially placed a picture of Tranny Christ as my main photo on myspace. The picture showed Miss Christ posing on the crimson colored seated area of Ultra Suede falling backwards spread eagle with her legs up in the air while covering her mouth in an attempt to hide her pink Target purchased panties. The caption below stated “ToxicWaist presents Tranny Christ! (a/k/a Jesus Christ Tranny Hooker)”. I heard nothing from Lari.

And then on Sunday night, Lari calls me. I didn’t hear the phone ring so it dumps the call into voicemail, and she leaves me a message. I listen to the message with a bit of hesitation. From the start she is obviously extremely upset. She tells me that she has permanently taken me off her myspace Friends list – more so due to the fact that her students would see it (and that was her reason – which I could understand). She stressed how important Jesus was to her and seeing Tranny Christ really made her “sad”. The message continued for a few more seconds before she hung up with what sounded like her crying over some mumbled words.

I wasn’t surprised. And I wasn’t upset. I felt I gave her enough warning to avoid this kind of situation. I don’t think she realized that I would push the envelope as far as I did. I hope within time she can understand my point of view with religion and my decisions to offend through performance art. The only thing I don’t want her to do is “pray” for me. When someone “prays” for me makes me feel as if they are taking pity on me because I don’t follow their rules for a religious life. Jesus Girl tried this “prayer to save you” years ago, but Timofy & I basically put her in her place – so to speak.

As I look to the future, I see myself doing more provocative performance pieces not limited to just a religious aspect. I would like to get into issues such as race, celebrity personalities, and politics. I guess as I prepare for these types of bits I should invest in a bullet proof vest since people are so damn touchy these days. Cripes. Those people need to get laid.

Selections from the Pumpkin Patch: The Lost Files

A random batch of unpublished pictures from the West Hollywood Halloween Carnival...

Tranny Christ all angelic in the men's room at Ultra Suede – all thanks to Woods' sparkling Photo Shop abilities.

Boss Bitch makes new friends with the Folsom Street Fair-like duo.

Creamable muscular back of the 1970's blue afro puff'd dancer on SMB.

Halloween goofballs Boozie, Boss Bitch and Tranny Christ cabby it back to Beverly Hills.

The peek-a-boo backside that Tranny Christ tried to bless with her tongue.

Even the queens know who's boss! Boss Bitch holds court.

Brokeback Fags cut a rug to non-Garth Brooks style music in Ultra Suede.

Always the hungry bitch Tranny Christ opens wide for her shoe.

Boss Bitch contemplates asking AbMan if she could run her laundry on his stomach.

Intoxicated ho-bag Tranny Christ stops dead in her tracks by passing out on the stairs in Boss Bitch's apartment building.

Selections from the Pumpkin Patch: The Sequel

.

More pictures from Halloween night...

Male Order Brides courtesy of the Philippine Tranny Exchange Program.

Alfred Hitchcock’s The Birds never looked so good.

Random gay men love to pose with Boss Bitch.

Drag royalty Lady Bunny takes a second away from lip syncing The Jefferson’s theme song to pose with Tranny Christ.

Boozie continues his terrorizing in the Ultra Suede men’s restroom.

A scrumcious view from below of Boss Bitch during Kelis' "Bossy".

Boozie couldn’t help himself from his masturbatory activities during Tranny Christ’s pole dancer movements during Warrant’s classic stripper tune “Cherry Pie”.

Boss Bitch knows how to handle a pearl necklace like a lady.

Club kids loves Boozie, and his horn.

Tranny Christ praises all that is 8 inches and more.

Boss Bitch representin' by marking up a flask hiding fool on the dancefloor.

Boss Bitch and Gothly Wench are definitely NOT part of the Itty Bitty Titty Committee.

Selections from the Pumpkin Patch

Halloween 2006 in pictures...

Boss Bitch (Lady E) drops it Jewel's Catch One style.

Boss Bitch and Tranny Christ work the shit out!

Boozie (Woods) prepares to frighten the neighborhood children.

Bootylicious backsides on the strip.

Boozie makes a friend with a random coulrophobic goth vamp chick.

A yawnfest typical gay man costume: an angel. At least this angel sports a nice work out'd back.

All the ladies love Big Dick Willy.

Coffee, Tea, or me? Airline stewardess at their best.

Boss Bitch bringing the ghetto aspect full circle.

Boozie will see you in your dreams.

Tranny Christ ponders the importance of dental insurance.

Coulrophobia

So how did Halloween 2006 go? Well…

Lady E literally “wow’d” every hetero male in sight. Come to think about it, she wow’d every male regardless of sexuality.

Woods scared the shit out of everyone within a 100 mile radius that suffered from a fear of clowns. Personally I thought it was anything but nightmare inducing considering that he originally sought out some really frightening looking teeth which were unattainable. On the bright side, he got offered a role in the next clown fuckfest thanks to some random cigarette smoking porn starlet.

And I offended every Hispanic thug all up and down the strip. Why you may ask? Well the answer is simple – gun totting Latino gang bangers believe in Jesus, that’s why. I threw out my idea of donning the Rosas Lady garb and headed straight for shockville with Tranny Christ (a/k/a Jesus Christ Tranny Hooker).

Oh, let me say that from the minute my heel hit Santa Monica Boulevard I was on the hunt for those right wing religious nuts who hang outside the festival spreading the gospel. I wanted to give them a dose of what I was hiding underneath my hose, but to my dismay they were no where to be found. Instead I got some immature teenaged Raiders fans shooting me dirty looks all night. Woods and Lady E got the full glimpse of all of the facial expressions as I was too high and mighty to give a flying fuck – high and mighty thanks to my gold spray painted Dyeables (thanks Woods! – I’ll eat your ass later for payment).

I really thought my gorgeous costume was unique and thought provoking. Most people had mistaken me for a female Jesus Christ. But hello, a female Jesus Christ wouldn’t be sporting a full on beard. Or would she? Hmmmm.

Anyhow, I had the wig down, the crown of thorns going on, the shoes in tact, the white robe/dress slammin’, the tetas protruding… in other words, the outfit was fucking hot. This was accentuated with gold frillies such as a bejeweled purse and two intertwined sashes in lieu of a brown rope belt. I added a red retro 1984 fishnet arm length glove to the mix, but I do have to say the cherry on the cake was the blood soaked gauze around my hands and ankles. This really pushed the outfit from almost cutesy to downright offensive.

Some mentioned I would be going to hell due to the choices I made for my Halloween apparel this year, but the jokes on them… I’ve been in hell for the past seven years. It’s called San Diego.

The DaVinci Load

ToxicWaist presents Tranny Christ! (a/k/a Jesus Christ Tranny Hooker)

Jesus, look at the legs on that bitch!

Trick or treat? Trick please.

Silver Shamrock Halloween wishes!

Working on Sundays is good for the soul

It’s Sunday and I’m back in the office. I had to come into work this morning so I could fill in for someone from another department who has taken the day off. The upside to working on this Sunday afternoon is the ability of having the upcoming Wednesday off. It worked out perfectly as I will be heading up to Los Angeles on Tuesday night to spend Halloween with Lady E and Woods… with a hope of causing some trouble with Blink and Army as well. We shall see.

I spent my yesterday with Sad Girl, Dirty Des, Wee, Lady E and Woods. Sad Girl, Dirty Des and Wee were in LA for Monster Massive which I was originally supposed to attend but bailed at the last minute thanks to horrible reviews via text messages from Sad Girl and Army.

Since skipping out of Monster Massive, Woods and I decided to take our gay asses over to Mario Diaz’s Hot Dog for some sleazy fun. Well, it wasn’t so sleazy as the shirtless WeHo fags have fully taken over the club. I used to love Hot Dog when it was held over at The Parlour Club – just down the street. Regardless of the over processed faces, I had a good time watching the go-go dancers show off. One in particular had quite a large appendage that he was very proud of. And rightly so for that matter. I think Woods wanted to measure it… with his mouth.

Another one of go-go dancers sat & chatted with us for a while at our table in the backroom. After he expressed a few thoughts, I remember he was the one that Woods attempted to rim months back at DELUXE. Maybe he remembered Woods and wanted a private session. Either way, it was nice to have a random stranger sit down and talk to us while we tried our best to down the Stoli Tequila and 7 concoctions. Yak.

Back to the girls, I took them on a Whip tour of Los Angeles since I have never had the pleasure of showing them my future home prior to this trip. We invaded Roscoe’s Chicken N Waffles, Hollywood Costumes, JetRag, Thai Karaoke, and a portion of West Hollywood. Those places were lackluster compared to what I consider the icing on the cake which was served to us compliments of Army – who is working on a new show for Bravo.

Army called me on Friday night informing me that they needed chic individuals who were 25 years & older to, well in a nutshell, hang out and have a good time while being exploited for reality television. “Where do we sign up?!” was my response. How could you not pass up a chance to devour Wolfgang Puck made hors d'oeuvres and gulp down Bacardi Limon Mojitos free of charge? Exactly. It made for a great afternoon actually. Sad Girl & Dirty Des got interviewed by the camera crew, Wee got wheelchair’d, Woods snapped up the Tuna Tar Tar, and I got wasted. Lovely, completely lovely.

Now I just have to get through today. And so far, it’s not so good – mainly because my lack of sleep. And also because my annoyance with this place is reaching record levels. That isn’t so cute. Maybe I’ll hit up the adult bookstore after I leave the office for a post-work wank/show off session. That always makes the day a little brighter.

10 9 8 and I’m breaking away...

It’s 1:22am Thursday night. Oops. I mean Friday morning.

I’m at work in the office right now.

I’m patiently waiting for the damn import to finish so I can run my final reports and get the fuck out of here.

I need to get over the fact that I am completely annoyed with the way things have played out today.

I need to eat. I need to sleep. I need a shower. I need to clean up my haircut.

I’ve got Shiny Toy Guns’ “Don’t Cry Out” playing on repeat. I love myspace so much at this moment.

I seriously cannot wait for the weekend to begin.

Do I Look Like A Slut?

Why yes, you do. Now be here tonight so you can eat some ass in the men’s toilet…

San Diego Weekend Survival

Mark your calendars. Thanks to Blink’s planned trip, I spend the entire past weekend in San Diego. Yep, it’s true – all the way from Friday through Sunday. I even got myself out to a couple of the homo bars in town. And I didn’t slap anyone! Can you believe it?!

Friday night, I tried to keep it low key as I was anticipating Blink’s arrival on Saturday morning so I hit up Bourbon Street (ack!) with Flipper, Heb and Woods. The four of us could barely handle the thick layer of artificialness that was kept in the air thanks to the Abercrombie & Fitch clones. I had forgotten how vapid those queens were at that bar. Oh what I’m saying… the queens are vapid at all the bars. Regardless, we all reached our tolerance level and escaped the bar around midnight. We decided to head on over to Casa Norte for additional cocktails and drunken conversation about San Diego’s overly touchy gay community. Good times indeed.

Blink came down on Saturday morning from Van Nuys to hang out with me, and to check out the city. I got to provide myself as a tour guide for a little more than 24 hours. He didn’t seem to mind me trekking him all over the gay-borhoods and respective areas. We even made a stop at Blacks Beach so he could check out the hard(less) bodies. Due to the non-summer day, the eye candy was limited. I assured Blink that if he comes back during the summer, there would be A LOT more to look at. Altho I always find something to focus on… and I did that day, in the bushes of course.

Blink broke away from the clutches of my evil grasp soon after a lunch with Woods and I at the old Hamburger Mary’s which is now known as Urban Mo’s. I told him that he needed to come back so I can continue my corruption of his moral values. And that if he didn’t, I would just have to hunt him down when I move up to the Los Angeles area.

I have to say that the weekend was great. I got to hang out with some amazing people – with one in particular that I’ve wanted to hang out with for quite some time now. I hope I didn’t scare any of them away with my displeasing gab, ghetto slang, or promiscuous sexual antics. But then again, aren’t those my best qualities?

Destroy Everything You Touch

Last night I attended the much anticipated Ladytron show at the Belly Up Tavern with my wonderful mates AP, Timofy and Woods. We did our best to arrive earlier than usual so we could get an eyeful of the opener CSS. Upon driving up to the venue at 8:15pm-ish, there was a lengthy line down the block for the peeps who had pre-sold tickets! I had no idea that Ladytron was that popular is San Diego. Although the show wasn’t sold out, it was definitely balls to the wall packed inside.

I have to describe the crowd as odd due to the fact that it was filled with a mixture of loud Bulgarians raising the Bulgarian flag in the air, Woods lovin’ bears, Hillcrest hipsters, South Park tree huggers, 94.9 Indie rockers who danced their asses off, bearded drunken faggots, Zombie Lounge white trash 50’s greaser dudes with a “I have a tiny penis, but I can kick your ass so good to make up for it” complex, and the Belly Up locals who apparently show up just about every night regardless of who is playing – it must be nice to live in Solana Beach and have the enough money to waste it on a ticket every evening. We had perfectly planted ourselves smack dead in the center of all this diversity – with alcoholic beverages in hand of course.

Anyhow, Brazilian bred CSS finally got on stage around 9:20pm. During their awesome performance, AP got pushed around by a little bearded drunken faggot wearing a CSS t-shirt who fancied my neck tie (and possibly something more according to Woods’ observations). AP just laughed off the pushing with a roll of her eyes. Woods came to the conclusion that AP was being pushed by the little bearded drunken faggot because the little bearded drunken faggot thought AP and I were a couple. If that was the case, he almost won the title of Mr. Piece Of Shit Asshole for the night. Anyone who tries to push around such a demure lady like AP needs to get clocked. I should have kicked his ass right there!

During the intermission between bands, I ended up running into the little bearded drunk faggot wearing a CSS t-shirt in the bathroom where he threw water in my face. I told him he better simmer down or else. Of course, I had no idea what that “else” would have been but I wasn’t in the mood for a confrontation.

The Mr. Piece Of Shit Asshole award of the night went to the wanna be Alpha Male with the greaser long sideburns and black Kangol-ish cap attempting to kick some drunk guy’s ass in the middle of the floor. What a fucking turd to start that kind of crap in a full house like that. That loser fuckhead didn’t need to make that kind of scene, but he had to prove to that drunk dude (who was a friend of little bearded drunk faggot wearing a CSS t-shirt btw), and everyone else apparently, that he had the biggest little cock in the entire bar. He looked ridiculous doing an impersonation of a macho shitkicker from 1955. Of course his cooze of a girlfriend just stood next to him swooning over the drippage of faux testosterone.


Ladytron rocked the house beginning sometime after 10:15pm. They were completely amazing. Even with the slow growing deadpan presence, the band was captivating enough for you to focus on them. There were nice visuals outlining their stage set up, but nothing too outrageous that would cause your eyes to wander. I was mesmerized by lead vocal Helen who, as time went on, started to interact with the audience – flaying her eyes open and closed to the front of the crowd, dancing around in her chic black dress, and even smiling at the Bulgarians. I do give those Bulgarians credit for making band member the finger twirled hair styled and Bulgarian born Mira smile.

Ladytron is up there with Garbage as a band I definitely wouldn’t mind seeing over and over again. And to my surprise they will be playing LA again on Halloween night. Shall I take my costumed ass over to the El Rey? I think I shall!

The c List

I have put together a list of all the people who have been all cunty with me within the past couple of weeks…

DWBR
KiKi

I know it’s not much of a list, and it’s no huge surprise that it’s only these two motor mouth birds making the cut. From what I can tell, they both like to try to show their “authority” to me – whatever the fuck that entails I'm still figuring out.

DWBR loves to prove false truths, and point the blame onto someone else while KiKi just can’t shut the fuck up for a moment, nor sit the fuck down. Maybe KiKi has ADD. That would explain a lot actually… since KiKi’s eyes wander onto me & my actions excessively. I’m very close to telling both of these cows to shove it.

Welcome to Cocktober

I cannot fucking believe it – it’s already the month of October. How fast has this year gone by? New Year’s Eve seemed like it was just yesterday – minus the treacherous headache and the mind bending search for the digital camera. I’m crossing my fingers that this time next year I will be settled into a place in the lovely neighborhood of Silverlake, or Echo Park, or Los Feliz. Whatever, as long as I am in Los Angeles it will be all good.

Well October happens to be my favorite month of the year – mostly because of Halloween. Halloween is like the gay Christmas. You get to dress up, although most fags opt for dressing down, or shall I say dress less. I swear if I see another goddamn Angel costume where the not quite muscled guy is shirtless in some white undies or trunks with those fucking wings attached to his back I am going to lose it. Literally, I'm going to flippin’ scream like a banshee. I guess I better prepare myself to go bananas as this year I will be attending the West Hollywood Street Festival. Yet again.

I had decided on my outfit for 2006 last Halloween actually. I was at The Abbey on Halloween night when had seen the famous Rosas Lady walking around selling, um, roses and I thought to myself “fuck, I so want to do that next year”. And as the year bopped on by I had kept on planning on what I was going to do – which was not much to be honest. My checklist consisted of a man wig (check), some dress down jeans, top & a windbreaker jacket which would all be Wal-Mart approved (check), and some roses (not checked). I feared that my goal to be somewhat close to the real life Rosas Lady would be costly as I wanted to purchase two fistfuls of real fresh roses to pass out all night long. Then again, I could sell those fuckers and make that money back. Problem solved.

The other thing I am so into this month is horror movie nights. Yes, I will subject my eyes, and any willing participant for that matter, to viewings of horror films. First up on the chopping block (so to speak) is Dead Alive – Peter Jackson’s campy zombielicious masterpiece. I plan on springing out that DVD in the next couple of days. I bought it months back by have not yet watched it – again, that is, I’ve seen it numerous times before. The second film would be the “banned in 30 countries” Cannibal Holocaust – which I do not own at the moment, nor have I seen. I’m on the lookout for Cannibal Holocaust DVD which is (supposedly) completely unaltered. I have been waiting to see this film since I was a gore hound teenager ravaging through the pages of my monthly Fangoria. I have located a copy at the local Tower Records. As soon as I’m granted with a payday I will be hopping on over to purchase it. I can’t bloody wait.

The rest of the month will consist of a trip to Knott’s Scary Farm’s Halloween Haunt, numerous concerts (Basement Jaxx, Adult., Ladytron, and *possibly* Diamanda Galas), a visit from a mate of mine whom I met at the SAC airport months ago, the continuation of growing my half beard out, and gratuitous sex with strangers. Fuck, I totally just soaked my panties writing all of that.

Recounting Raya

The always lovely Raya Light made a trip down to Los Angeles this past weekend so Woods and I made a special trip up to the city to visit with her. Of course we drove up a night earlier so we could make a (now infamous) stop at Forbidden City on Friday night. See the previous post for more info.

I was very happy that I finally got to see the bitch in action. She has won numerous medals for her work on the court. The tennis court, that is. We also got to whore ourselves up and down Hollywood Boulevard dragging Lady E everywhere we went. Raya even got to fawn over some Israeli ass, as did Woods, Lady E, and I. The boy was very hot I have to admit. I even snagged a few cam phone pictures which you can view here…


Lady E, Raya, Woods and myself enjoyed the culinary scrumpciousness of Casita Del Campo in Silverlake in the evening with a post dinner performance of Chico’s Angels 3: Chicas in Chains. Raya fell head over heels in love with Kay Sedia btw. Raya was home (hotel) by 11:30pm, of course.

The next day was filled with Raya’s sweaty green balls flying all over the place. They were amazing. I hope Raya comes back down to SoCal soon so she can show off her sweaty green balls at The Zone. I think the boys there would definitely appreciate the softness of them. I know I would.

You Gonna Want Me

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Counting the minutes

K.Sum said it best: “killing me softly”. She was referring to work. I had to agree with her. I’m stuck. I’m so uninspired. I’m feeling so cold and mentally frozen sitting on my blue chair, staring into a squared layer screen on my HP black & grey monitor. All I can think about is how unexciting this is. How my life is passing me by. I need to make change. My plan of moving to LA is becoming more of a reality as each day passes. I want to be up there now. I want to start the next chapter in my life. I’m struggling to make it throughout the day without losing my mind. I need to find something to focus on and rid myself of this ugly energy I am bombarded with. Thank heaven for the post-work Stoli Bloody Mary.

Back from Folsom and still virginal…

I have returned from San Francisco. All I will say at this time is I have officially broken in my black leather Fluevog boots. The shine has been replaced with decorations of sleaze that I will cherish every time I wear them from this point on.

Folsom, here I cum…

I begin my vacation this evening in San Francisco. I fly out after work. Can I just explain how much I have been yearning for this trip?! Seriously. This trip is way overdue, not to mention much needed. The DWBR is driving me up the fucking wall. I need a few days to zone out with some nothingness, Stoli and ass eating. What better place to have all this happen than in San Francisco, right? Of course the main attraction of this excursion is the Folsom Street Fair – which will be taking place on Sunday. I hope it’s warm that day… I want to be able to walk around in my new black leather Fluevog boots, pink American Apparel underwear, and a pink & black checkered tie. Talk about letting loose, eh? My only obstacle will be to corrupt little miss innocent Raya Light – whom Woods and I will be staying with. I hope we can get her down to Folsom, then over to the Eagle for more ice cube in the jockstrap fun! Good times are waiting.

One Three Seven

I have finally reached 137 pounds. This is a huge milestone for me. I have been struggling to pack on the weight ever since I began working out with Timofy at his place of employment’s gym. I moved over to my current gym after we parted ways last year. At that time I was weighing in at 126. I had set a goal of gaining 10 pounds (of muscle, mind you) by the end of 2006. I surpassed it, and then some… with that some being a measly pound – but hell, I’ll take it!

I get a lot of shit for being skinny. I get looks from larger people when they get a glance of me devouring a plate of thick juicy filet mignon with a side of carb loaded mashed potatoes. I receive a lot of cunty comments, usually from females, about my weight. I also run into situations when I’m on the prowl for sex where the guy I’m interested in will tell me that I am “too thin”. That is often reversed when I pull out my cock. Fucking sizequeens.

My ultimate goal is to reach 150 and maintain it from there. I have many reasons for this goal… one is for vanity obliviously, another for health purposes, and the other to be comfortable in my own skin. You may categorize vanity and to be comfortable together, but they are two totally different reasons in my eyes. Vanity – to be wanted, which in this day and age of youth & beauty can be brutal (I also want to make those dudes who said no to me in the first place to wish they had taken the chance when it was presented). To be comfortable in my skin – so I can feel good about myself (and not to mention enough confidence to strip off clothes at a moment’s notice).

Call me shallow, call me foolish, but we are all narcissistic deep down inside. We all want to be wanted, we all want to be desired… at least *I* can admit that. Can you?

It’s Your Birthday!

What a day. Today marks the one year anniversary that I have been blogging. Or actually the lack of blogging – recently that is. I started this blog last year as a way to express myself, post images of me doing inappropriate things in hopes to scare away radical religious folk, and beef up on my writing skills. I can honestly say that I feel I have achieved what I set out to do. And I’m happy with that.

I remember some time after I started this blog I got into a tiff with a couple, now “ex”, friends about a post I had made. Boy, where they pissed – which amused me immensely. The most idiotic part of that situation was the post wasn’t even about them, but as a twist of fate that little tangle allowed me to see those individual’s true colors – which were a murky brown shit color btw. Needless to say, they are “friends” no more.

One interesting fact though is the cuntier of the two peeps who literally bitched me out about the post actually starting their own blog via myspace this past year. Now how the hell are you going to bitch me out about what *I* post on *my* blog, then turn around and post bitchy entrys on their blog. Actually, that doesn’t surprise me at all… I should have known that this person was a total cooze the minute they started their holier than thou shit with me.

Anyhooter, I am happy to announce that I am officially an aunt. Yup, the spawn of my sister and some preppy thug has been birthed. What can I say other than I am totally excited. I haven’t seen any pictures yet, but I’m sure that she is an angel – unlike her mother.

Having a niece will give me a chance to nurture my motherly instinct. Ok, maybe not that, but it will definitely let me become the “cool” tia. It will also give me the opportunity to influence a young mind. And no, I don’t mean mind control like certain religious groups, but the freedom of expression full of creativity. I want my niece to know that no matter what she chooses to do in her life, she will have my full support.

If you keep them in terror, they will believe…

Happy 9/11.

Yes, you read that right.

Happy 9/11, no?

Well that is the spectacle that the Media is making of it. It’s a total advertisement machine now. They are milking it for all it’s worth. It’s such a shame that this type of tragedy has now become a mockery. And speaking of mockery and milking it for all it’s worth, good boy Pres Bush is out there using 9/11 as an excuse to justify his Iraq war.

I will be the first to stay that I am not the most educated person around, but I was under the impression that Iraq had nothing to do with the attacks on 9/11. Wasn’t that Mister Bin Laden that masterminded this plan? Five years later and he is still running amok?! I guess the capture of Mister Bin Laden isn’t that important. Oh that’s right, I’m losing focus on what’s really important – lying to the American public for your own personal gain, taking precious dollars away from your own country to help yet another country in order to inject serious brown-nose corporate bullshit, and hijacking the American dollar at the gas pumps.

I thought the American people would wake up to this type of abuse and do something about it. I guess I was expecting too much from the people who bitch and complain about violence in their children’s schools, a nipple flash on national television and the gospel being the real reason why marriage is so fucking sacred. Yes, the same exact people who make crime filled CSI the number one show on TV… the same people who help make Pornography a billion dollar a year industry… the same people who can’t deal with their own shit-filled problems they end up turning to a mythical figure whose face shows up in random grilled cheese sandwiches across the world. Yes, you know the ones… they usually have the nerve to tell other people how to live their lives because they have mastered their own lives to a perfect fucking detail.

It’s a wonderful time we live in. Five years later and we are no better off. We are in the middle of a fuckfest where a puppet of a man with the intelligence of a pencil eraser is leading the “free” world. Oh shit, I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to insult the pencil eraser.

Coochie Cobwebs

It looks as if my blog was getting a bit dusty. I haven’t posted in, what seems like, forever. It’s not that I have been neglecting my blog duties due to some kind of laziness on my end... I can honestly say it’s because I don’t have the resources. I currently do not have access to a working computer outside of work. Well, that isn’t right. I don’t have access to a functional PC. I can blog on Woods’ Mac, but blogspot isn’t Mac friendly. I can’t do all the wonderful graphics. Ok, who I am kidding. I can’t blog in Blue Arial! I would die if I had to post with that grotesque Times New Roman font. Gag me with a cheap plastic IKEA spoon! I do have my work PC but I can’t really take the time to write, and then post the fucker on a mondo slow paced blogspot.com. It also makes it much more difficult to post when you have VPs walking by your cubicle quite frequently throughout the busy day. I’m hoping that I will have the laptop back to me very very soon. Well, once Timofy fixes it that is. I guess I will just have to place on my nagging hat and get to work. I’m totally sure Timofy will appreciate that. Totally.

Le Update

The Bulgarian has abruptly moved out without any notice.

You know what that means right?

Orgy at Casa Norte!

South 36th Cumpleaños

Happy Birthday Sad Girl!

The Bulgarian

The Bulgarian has been lodging at Casa Norte for what feels like a few years, but in reality it has only been a few weeks. I feel I have no real place to rant because it isn’t my house, but since I’m a fag it’s in my nature to be a total cunt.

I have listed all of the things that have either begun to annoy me or sent me right through the roof:

1. He doesn’t lock the front door. Hell, he doesn’t lock any of the doors for that matter. The first few times I let it go. After the fourth time, I had to step up and tell him “Hey, remember to lock the front door”. After the ninth time, I had to turn the notch to fag bitch mode (with a side of playfulness, mind you) – “I’m going to kick your ass if you don’t lock the door… remember to lock the door please” --- chuckle, chuckle, chuckle. After the fourteenth time, I had to tell him sternly “lock the door”. Woods mentioned to me that the other day he started to talk to The Bulgarian about something that was totally not about the lockage of the door when The Bulgarian harshly responded “I know, I know, lock the door”. In my opinion, if you are a guest for longer than you have to be at someone’s place of residence you have no right to be all dour with the owner. Otherwise, your ass will be on the street without a door to lock.

2. He has been quite a hit with the A4A/Hillcrest crowd as of late. If he isn’t at work, he’s in the dining room on his laptop chatting, searching, trolling, whatever. Just about every evening that I’ve come home, he has been outside in front of the house with someone new (either talking to them on the street, chatting with them through the passenger side window of their car, or sitting in their car doing whatever). He has also had visitors inside the house watching movies and/or blabbing on the couch with him. Now at the beginning of his stay Woods and I made it clear that it wasn’t an issue to have people in the house. Not realizing that he would take it to this level, I have found it to be a problem as there is someone new and unfamiliar in the house almost every day/night.

3. Before I even list this one, I want to disclose that I am not the cleanest person in the world due to that fact that I have my junk scattered all over CN. With that being said, The Bulgarian has proven to be a pig. Maybe that was a bit over the top; let’s say that he is messy. He usually leaves his clothes lying all over the house, or forgets to place food back into the fridge, or does not wipe up the splashed water around the sink. I know Woods addressed these issues with him, but I have yet to see any type of change.

4. Far too needy. To his defense, he is only twenty-three years old. And I know that is no excuse for him to be so latching, but I know how I was when I was his age – I was still trying to figure out who I was. His needy-ness reminds me very much of Jesus Girl’s lack of any ability to be alone. She always had to be with someone, or be around someone, otherwise it would make her mental. Seriously. And this is how The Bulgarian is. Well, that is how I view him while living under the roof at CN. If he is not on the phone yapping, he has to have someone next to him (see number 2). I felt bad for Timofy, as it was a nice meeting for both of them initially, but The Bulgarian gets all nutzoid when he can’t reach him via cell. Does The Bulgarian not realize that people work or are busy with their lives?! Someone needs to buy a clue.

5. Watching my DVDs. I honestly don’t mind him watching my movies. That is why I bought them so they could be viewed over and over again. But he uses them and doesn’t put the DVD back into the case, or he leaves them out gathering dust, or opens up a sealed movie without my permission. Does he know for a fact that I am going to keep that movie? Does he know for a fact that that isn’t a present for someone? No, he doesn’t. I know I’m sounding crazy, but newsflash: I am crazy.

5. Due to his excessive smoking, there are cigarette butts all over the front yard. The front yard made not be all glamorous but that does not give anyone the right to discard the remaining portions of their cancer sticks on the premises. Woods asked him to clean it up. We are waiting to see if this actually goes through with it.

6. Cologne. The Bulgarian practically bathes in it. There is so much of it that my eyes water when he walks by. He believes that cologne will cover up the fact that he smells like cigarettes – which is soooo not the case. Both smells are very strong, and very non-cute.