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!