Living the Bi Life

Back on the Juice

2005-10-01T23:21:00.000-07:00

Oh, and I forgot to mention, I'm back on the Ritalin. Wow, I really missed it, I didn't realize how much. Like often, I'd have a small idea pop into my head and then it would fly away before I got a chance to really think it through. On Ritalin, it'll stick around long enough for it to either wither for lack of merit or grow into something worthwhile. Consequently, I've had like three really great ideas of how to handle certain programming challenges in the past month, and that's three more than I've had all year.

Getting High on Someone Else's Supply

2005-10-01T22:03:00.000-07:00

Thursday nights are rough for me this fall, because four shows that I watch -- Alias, Smallville (don't judge me), The O.C. (don't judge me) and Survivor (don't judge me) all air at the same time (8:00 pm on the coasts). Thanks to my cable company's DVR package, I can record any given two of those without a problem, but working the other two in is a challenge. So, given that Veronica Mars is on at 9:00, my Thursday nights are essentially dead when it comes to social activity. Can't hang out with my friends, can't spend all night on the internet or reading or whatever. And I definitely, definitely cannot schedule a sex date for Thursday at 8:00.

Guess what I did last Thursday?

Yeah, I think you see roughly where this is going. Anyhow, normally I would never, ever forgo that much TV for sex. Well, not gay sex, anyway, which is what this was. However, there was an additional temptation that made me gladly take the night off and let my DVR do its job, and that's ganja. Pot. Sticky-icky-icky (actually while discussing sex, that last term lacks precision due to multiple possible interpretations, and I'm nothing if not irritatingly precise). At any rate, I knew he was 420-friendly and asked him to bring some and he did.

See, here's the thing. Despite having a fairly broad range of sexual experience, I'm still a bit of a nerd, and a nerdy-type nerd at that, which means that prior to the night before yesterday, I have gotten high exactly once in my life, and that was last Thanksgiving. And since then, I've been really curious what pot-sex would be like. I'm just going to take it for granted that the bulk of the people that read this blog already more or less know what it's like (Aughra, I'm looking at you). So what I'm about to say might not be that surprising to you.

Sex while high is totally, completely, absolutely fucking amazing.

I mean, I figured it would be a fun, tingly new twist, something akin to poppers only longer lasting and less likely to give me a headache. But no, it's like what having sex in space is like. Having sex in space while high, that is.

Granted, since this is only my second time with the Mary Jane, save for a couple of contact highs at a Snoop Dogg concert and the like, I'm still in that place where I get really, really high. And I mean really high. Last Thanksgiving, while popping my pot cherry, there was an hour or so (hard to tell) where I felt like I controlled a tiny part of the universe with my knees. I bent my knees and the universe, or at least a couple rays perpendicular to my legs, folded along with it. I'm not used to that level of responsibility.

The point is, I imagine the earthbound mile-high-club won't always be as exciting as it was on Thursday, but goddamn was it amazing. It was so cool, first of all, everywhere we touched was intensely pleasurable, like my entire body was a giant erection but with fingers. And plus it was like our bodies just melted into each other and there wasn't any specific point where his skin ended and mine started. My fingers would sink into his flesh a bit and they'd feel like they were becoming a part of him.

And the kissing. Fuuuuuuuuuuuck. First of all, I think I did this little experiment with the right guy, 'cuz I loooooove making out and so does he, and two people (or more, I suppose) who really like necking are definitely gonna have a good time making out while baked. So, like I expected that to be good, but it was totally mind-blowing. How mind blowing?

I whimpered!

Totally involuntary, came out of nowhere, embarrassingly high-pitched whimpered. And groaned, but the whimpering was what got me. Normally, when I make noise in bed, it's sort of a conscious act, I rarely am not in control of what sex noises I make except during the more intense orgasms, and even then I can more or less shape how it comes out. So any noise I make is a decision, like "hey, the way he/she is sucking my cock right now feels good, I should let him/her know." So this whimpering from nowhere really surprised the hell out of me. I figure (and forgive me if I'm wrong) that it's closer to how women make noise during sex, which always struck me as rather involuntary, or at least I'd like to think so since it implies good things about me.

OK, so clearly it was physically a lot better, and if that was all, I'd still be amazed. But it turns out it's an incredible emotional high as well. I mean I genuinely felt extremely close to this guy. Which is really, really rare for me when I'm having sex with a guy. I can be sensual, I can be erotic, I can be playful and I can be dirtyNastySlutty. But romantic? Fuck that. I don't even know how to fake that. Frankly, I get uncomfortable if I sense my partner is experiencing anything on an emotional level higher than "Gee, I'm having fun!"

I should mention that I'm the exact opposite when it comes to women. On more than one occasion I've experienced a genuine feeling of loss and lonliness when my lapdance ended. Well, genuine but not heartbreaking. I'm not that pathetic. ("That damn DJ keeps cutting the songs short. He's trying to keep us apart!"). At any rate, I have no problem slipping into a romantic state of mind when I'm slipping it in.

But while high, I fell right into this wave of emotional intimacy, and I'm surprised how much that didn't bother me and even more surprised that it still doesn't. It's very strange to have experienced an emotional satisfaction along with the physical satisfaction while with a guy. Never saw that coming.

So, following the sex, I also got the munchies and luckily the fella had ordered a pizza for me before I came over, which we didn't eat. So I had pizza in bed while being a bit giddy from the sex and the pot, which is a nice way to cap the evening. I'd actually have liked to have stayed the whole night, but, you know, work and all that. Plus I had the early shift last week (which means 7:00am, and I was happy to have made it there by 7:20). So I left, and I felt like a total asshole, especially since it's really hard to make a smooth exit while hungry and still fairly high. Managed to make it back in time for me to watch Smallville though, which I felt had an excellent season premiere, and I think I would have felt that way even if I wasn't blitzed.

So, to sum up, getting high and having sex*: A big thumbs up.

* Also sometimes referred to as "PnP" (for "Party and Play") in the gay community, though that more commonly refers to crystal meth, which I have pretty much no curiosity about.

...Slobbering, doing the corkscrew....

2005-09-06T23:39:00.000-07:00

I once said that on the short list of guys I would fellate and happily tell my friends about, Jon Stewart is at the top of the list.

Today, I stand by that, and up the ante. And, bear in mind, this is the straight part of me talking, I like to believe I would hold this opinion even without being bi.

If you caught tonight's Daily Show, you either saw what I'm talking about or got really pissed off. Basically, the entire non-interview portions of the show were dedicated to not letting Bush off the hook for the mismanagement of the Katrina catastrophe. Even as the mainstream media rediscovers their cajonés, Stewart and the Daily Show go after the Bush camp's spin-control in a big, big way.

So, yeah, I'd blow him. And not just a little kissy-kissy on his willy, I'm talking an on-my-knees, making-slurping-noises, humming-The-Daily-Show-theme, butterfly-tonguing-right-under-the-head, stick-a-pinkie-in-his-ass, let-him-pull-my-hair-and-call-me-a-bitch style cock-suckin. I'd consider it a privilege, an honor and a privilege.

Quick updates

2005-09-01T00:26:00.000-07:00

Yeah, my blog guilt is killing me. I'm a bad boy for not posting. I don't know, I took a big unintentional break from my other blog too. Anyhow, still here.

But I figure this is a good time to update on a couple of other things that relate to previous posts. The first relates to my A.D.D.. I mentioned that I've been off Ritalin (and Desoxyn for a couple of years now. A lot of that is totally unintentional, my doctor is in Orange County, I'm not, it just became too inconvenient to keep seeing him. Anyhow, next Wednesday I have an appointment with a new, more local ADD doc, so hopefully I'll be back on the juice soon. I realized I really needed to get back on it when someone gave me 10 Adderall pills, and I was briefly reminded of how much easier everything except masturbation is when I'm on a good stimulant medication (caffeine and cigarettes really don't cut it). So, kick ass. I know some people, for instance celebrities who fire their exceptionally capable publicists and hire their sisters, think medication for ADD is a load of crap, but I can tell you the stuff works.

As for my job, well there's good news and bad news there. The bad news is that I no longer have an office. They hired a new person who is technically my superior, which somehow means that even though I've been a loyal employee for over half a decade, the office I got over a year ago now belongs to him, and I have to be back out with the unwashed masses like some sort of heathen. This really annoyed me for a number of reasons. The first is that it just sucks losing your office. The second is that due to the Bush economy, the company hasn't really been in a position to give raises, so I haven't had one in about four years, despite becoming a much, much better programmer in that time. The closest thing I've had to a promotion is when I gave myself a new title on my business cards (they're very loose about titles and stuff there). So the office is really the only thing I had to show that at least gave the appearance of a career path.

The good news there, however, is that I took the opportunity to mention to my boss that I haven't had a raise in four years (and, granted, I've had bonuses, some very significant, so there has been some form of salary enhancement), and he agreed that it's been a very long time and that he'd talk to the powers that be about it. And he's pretty good about stuff like that, so I think I'm in a good position there. I still think this company isn't where I can make any real long term plans, but a decent raise certainly buys them (and me) a comfortable amount of time. If it comes to pass, I'm hoping that getting screwed out of an office gets me the salary equivalent of a pity-fuck so that it would be more than if it hadn't happened. And as much as I loved my little sanctuary, I'd much rather have money.

Of course, in the best of all possible worlds, I'd have both. Just call me Candide.

I need some new skillz

2005-08-13T03:32:00.000-07:00

Way off-topic from what I usually post, but I can't post it on my main blog because it's read by co-workers. But increasingly I'm realizing that I have to learn some new programming languages. Preferably PHP but I'm also trying to learn Objective-C and Cocoa to program for Mac OS X.

The main problem is that I'm a pretty good programmer, but the honest truth is there's very little room for advancement in my current job and the language we mostly use there is so obscure that it's basically impossible to find a job elsewhere using it. Which doesn't mean I want to leave my job or anything, but at some point I'm going to have to. And I figure I've got 80% of the skillset I need to be highly employable elsewhere (HTML, CSS, Javascript and SQL) but it's that last 20%, the middleware, where I really need to make a change.

The good news is, half the point of PHP (which is very heavily in demand right now, or as heavily in demand as any other programming languge) is that it's easy to work with, and that it is very similar to the language I use now. And the other good news is that all the really tough stuff, like good architecture and structure, are things that can't really be "taught" in any traditional sense. Either you have those skills or you don't, and I do.

I think the main point is that I'm beginning to realize that I'm in the latter stages of my current job. I won't be ditching it any time soon, in fact I hate the thought of leaving it, the people I work with are great. But the money really should be better, and it's harder and harder to really challenge myself there, so I don't think I'm getting better at my job at the pace I used to.

pr0n star karaoke

2005-08-10T23:50:00.000-07:00

So, why the fuck do I go on these long streaks of posting literally nothing at all? Especially when my last post was an absolutely pathetic plumbing thing?

Anyhow, I didn't know this until a couple of months ago, but apparently the bar two blocks from my house is a porn star hangout. I'm not fucking kidding. Not all the time, often it's just a dive bar, but on Tuesday nights, they host "Porn Star Karaoke", where porn stars come and hang out and sing karaoke and look hot.

Living in the valley* is awesome.

So last night I went with one of my buddies for the first time. I was really hoping to see Cytherea, who apparently attends a lot, but she wasn't there that night, or at least not there by the time we left. But there were plenty of others, none of whom I recognized, but all of whom clearly were in the industry.

Incidentally, here's a shocking fact: Most porn stars can't sing very well. An even more shocking fact: I find myself having a hard time caring about that.

There's another little story about this place, because apparently it's not just Tuesday nights that it's a porn star haunt. Shortly after first hearing that it was possibly infested with hit dirty girls, I went there with a friend. Just a random Wednesday, nothing special. The place wasn't very crowded, but there were a couple of really hot girls in a corner, and a guy with a video camera and some lights shooting them. I joked that they were probably here shooting a naughty movie.

But they were! They were shooting like a set-up scene or something. Two blocks from my apartment.

Frankly, I'm a little surprised it's taken me so long to actually get out to see PSK in person. What, am I too cheap for the $10 cover (waived if you're not a guy or with someone who isn't a guy)? Anyhow, I'm a totally going back because I'd really dig seeing Cytherea in person. I hold a ridiculously optimistic hope that it will lead to sex with her, which would be awesome, although slightly troublesome since I just learned she's actually married. What are the ethics of having sex with a married porn star?

*The San Fernando Valley, porn capital of the world.

Plumbing sucks

2005-07-21T00:01:00.000-07:00

I'm waging war with my bathtub. I'm losing.

I've had a stubborn clog since Monday afternoon that has defied all attempts to go away. I'm going to have to talk to my landlord. I probably should have done that in the first place, but I thought it was just your run of the mill clog. So I tried plunging, I tried drain cleaners, I tried snaking. Tonight I tried a sulphuric acid based drain cleaner. There's a mild possibility I had a very slight improvement, but it's still clogged as hell. Actually, it probably made the problem bigger. In fact, I'm now operating under the assumption that every single attempt to clear this clog has made the problem worse, not better.

Tonight I also had to go to my friend's house and borrow his shower. Christ-in-a-kitty.

This is exactly the sort of problem I'm totally mentally ill-equipped to handle. First of all, the problem could probably have been avoided by proper maintenance, which I totally suck at. Then, once the problem began to appear, I could easily have addressed it then, rather than choosing stop gap solutions that I hoped would fix it but knew it wouldn't. Now it's at the point where I have to ask for help, which I absolutely hate, and I'm using the word "hate" here, I absolutely hate to do.

I don't know why I hate asking for help, but I think it involves several factors. First of all it makes me feel incompetent. Second, I usually only ask for help when the problem has gotten way out of hand, which means that I have to fess up that I've made a long string of poor decisions, which also makes me feel incompetent. Third, I can only assume that the people I will have to ask for help, especially if they aren't my friends, are going to judge me, which I can't stand. Because it makes me feel incompetent. Plus, what if whomever I ask for help decides to get mad at me, and then get even more mad at me for a whole host of other offenses that they've managed to keep silent on all this time?

Most of the time, I'm an easy-going, imperturbable rock of good humor and even-keel-ness. But lurking underneath all that is a crazy ass bundle of neuroses.

To put into perspective how much I loathe asking for help: This will be the first time, in 12 years of living in some sort of apartment/dorm/whatnot that I will ever have asked a landlord-type-person for help. I know people that call the landlord when a lightbulb burns out, but not me.

It's pride swallowing time.

The New York Times thinks I'm Gay!

2005-07-11T23:44:00.000-07:00

According to the article "Straight, Gay or Lying?" (free registration required, those bastards), published in the New York Times, my bisexuality is a big ol' fucking (quite literally) lie.

It's not the New York Times' fault, it's actually the Canadians fault (and some Bears fans also). Apparently, a study from a team in Toronto and Chicago concluded that male bisexuality doesn't exist. That invariably there is a significantly greater attraction to one gender or the other (and the one gender is usually male).

They did this by performing what has to be one of the weirdest experiments: They hooked a sensor that monitors arousal to 101 men and showed them erotic images. According to the article, "The psychologists found that men who identified themselves as bisexual were in fact exclusively aroused by either one sex or the other, usually by other men." [edit: My understanding is that the machine used to monitor arousal measures blood flow into the genitals, which means you've got electrodes hooked up to your Johnson. That's what makes the experiment so damn weird.]

Now, obviously I have many, many problems with this. One of them is that I've had sex with a guy (all right, two guys) in the last few weeks, yet at the same time have jacked off to straight porn. Hell, I just downloaded some hot girl on girl videos the other day. So am I an even bigger freak than I thought or what?

Well, no, I'm not. I think the problem here is that the study doesn't consider what I believe is an important fact: There's often a huge difference between the sex we like to have and the sex we like to watch. A lot of times I've watched really hardcore gonzo-style porn, and gotta admit I get off on seeing really wild double penetrations. But that's totally different from my actual behavior in bed with a woman, which involves a lot less chipmunk-style ass-fucking and a lot more fumbling with bras. I'm kidding, I'm a freaking whiz with the bra. It's the phrase "stop that, my clit isn't a bongo drum" that haunts me.

The other problem I have is that this doesn't measure actual physical contact. For instance, I love kissing, guys, girls, svelte fish, etc. But if I could only choose one gender to make out with for the rest of my life, it's women by a freakin' mile. I mean, kissing guys is cool and all, sometimes very good, but making out with women sends me through the fucking roof.

But then, why the results of the study? Well, I think there's a good reason for it, and it comes down to this: You can see naked women literally everywhere. I was like 11 when I discovered my brother's Hustler stash, so I've been intimately familiar with the surgically- and photographically-enhanced female form since the very beginning of puberty. The internet has only made this more prevalent. Granted, gay porn isn't any harder to find online, but the truth is I think we're a lot more de-sensitized to run of the mill hot naked chicks. That doesn't mean most straight and bi males will ever, ever turn down the opportunity to see some, but it's gotta be something a bit more special to get Mr. Happy up.

Now, I'm not saying that no bisexual males aren't gay-in-disguise, that'd be disingenuous. But like I said, one of the reasons I'm not more honest with people about my sexuality is that a lot of people, gay and straight alike, instinctively don't believe in male bisexuality. A study like this only confirms people's suspicions, and I don't like the idea of 30 men reinforcing the rest of the country's belief that they know what goes on in my head.

So I'd like to see bigger, more comprehensive studies from the psychological industry. Or maybe not. I mean, Tom Cruise himself personally — personally — told me psychology was a pseudo-science. Or was that psychiatry? I can't keep them straight.

Oh, how I so fucking, fucking hate Wells Fargo

2005-06-28T20:49:00.000-07:00

$22 overdraft fee on a $1.98 purchase! And then, despite the fact that my account was technically already in overdraft today, they go ahead and let me make $60 worth of purchases, which when combined with overdraft fees, would have put me $104 further into them.

What a bunch of assholes. This, this right here, is why people hate Wells Fargo.

But they do have the best and most plentiful ATMs, and as much as I hate them, I can't stand the thought of using anyone else's ATMs.

Kind of coming out maybe one day

2005-06-23T01:29:00.000-07:00

I work with a lot of gay men. When you work in Los Angeles, that's pretty much a given, even more so if you work in some sort of vaguely art-related industry. That's no big deal.

Lately I've been considering coming out as a bisexual to a couple of them. Generally I feel gay and straight alike tend to have a very suspicious attitude towards male bisexuality. I've mentioned this before, but I think most people in general don't believe you when you say you're bi. They think it's code for "gay but scared to completely admit it". Or at least, that's my fear.

But nonetheless, I think gay men would generally have a more sympathetic reaction. I'm sure any of my close friends would continue to accept me, but I really don't want to get into it with them. I mean, what if they tried to set me up with a guy? Holy shit! Gay guys at least have an understanding of what actually going out and finding gay sex entails, which can seem downright bizarre if you're not used to it.

Anyhow, the other reason I'm considering coming out to some of my gay co-workers is that I think they already know, or at least suspect. I'm a little too quick with jokes about butt-plugs, cock rings, bathhouses and poppers sometimes. Straight people think "hey, that guy's funny!" whereas I'm pretty sure the gay guys think "that joke requires in-the-field research."

I actually have this weird paranoid delusion that they have a standing bet between them to see who can get me to admit it first. Maybe it's not paranoid, maybe it's true. I give it 7:3 odds.

I'm a bundle of neuroses some times.

Anyhow, I notice that I'm doing a surrogate coming out thing. At work, if anyone were to flat out ask me if I were bi, I'd probably still deny it. Which would be ridiculous, since you don't ask that question if you don't already know the answer, but see the above paragraph for my rationalization. However I've got my other, more minor secret, which is that I'm a smoker (I know, that's completely ridiculous, even more so because I waited until I was 28 to start smoking. I ask you: Who starts smoking at 28?). So I've been reluctantly but truthfully answering affirmative to anyone that pieces that little mystery together from all the available clues: the occasional lighter on my desk, a jacket that smells like smoke, seeing me smoke at the Christmas party. Real Sherlock Holmes stuff here.

At any rate, I find that being honest about that some how eases the psychological pressure to be honest about my sexuality. I've substituted one secret for another. And the funny thing is, in California in 2005, more people would tend to judge me for the smoking than the bi-ness.

Now, don't expect me to go do any coming out to anyone just because I've said I'm thinking about it. The pace I tend to do these sorts of things is like glacially slow. I'm a firm believer in ignoring problems until they go away.

Be careful what you wish for

2005-06-23T01:16:00.000-07:00

In my previous post, I wrote:

I found a new host for images, hopefully that will last. I think there's a daily download limit, but assuming it's just images, and my readership doesn't significantly increase, I shouldn't have any problems.

Well, I got linked to by Eros Blog, which as it turns out is a very, very popular blog. I'm totally honored, but you probably won't have a chance to view the images I posted of some incredibly hot transsexuals for a while. There will probably be a few hours a day that they're available, but I have a 100 MB daily download limit on the service I'm using to host images, and when that's up, they're Johny-on-the-spot with throttling things back. But at least they didn't shut me down like Flickr, bless there community-building, forward-thinking, copyright-fearing hearts, did.

Incidentally, 100MB of image views translates into roughly 236 views of that page. Whoo! Hitting the big time now! And just when I started to slack off on my posting (again).

D'oh! That didn't last long

2005-06-14T23:13:00.000-07:00

Hmmm, where the hell did the images go in my last post? I think Flickr (whom I still greatly respect, by the way) took exception to the photos I was posting, although I can't be sure since I haven't received any notification of them. Just suddenly my pics are missing and I can't log in. Anyhow, whatever, gotta figure something else out to post images, don't I?

What sucks is these were really good pics too, and most of you probably didn't get a chance to see them.

I'm a bad boy.

[Update: I found a new host for images, hopefully that will last. I think there's a daily download limit, but assuming it's just images, and my readership doesn't significantly increase, I shouldn't have any problems. I tell you, this is why it would be nice to have my own webserver sitting in my closet.]

Yeah, I like transsexuals, what are you gonna do about it

2005-06-14T00:11:00.000-07:00

Here's a quiz: Take a look at the women at this table. Which one of them is a transsexual?

It's a trick question. The answer is all of them.

In my last post I mentioned that I belong to a transsexual-themed Yahoo group. That's not entirely accurate. I belong to several of them, a couple of TS pay sites (Bob's T-Girls and Brazilian Transsexuals) and have an assload of TS DVDs and videotapes.

Anyhow, I haven't really talked too much about this here, except to post an entry congratulating Vicki Richter on her win for "Transsexual Performer of the Year" at this year's AVN awards. So I decided to get into it a little bit, why I'm attracted to TS, how does that all play out. I'll also pepper this with some photos, just for fun (and just because I finally got a Flickr account, so I actually can now).

Actually," why" is a difficult question. I really can't answer "why" on any technical term, just as I can't explain my attraction to women or my sexual desire to sleep with men. I mean, with women there's the biological imperative to reproduce and while that explains it from an evolutionary standpoint, it does nothing to explain why it applies to me, but at least everyone understands it.

But obviously it's a little different with transsexuals. The explanations I've heard of this phenomenon have been far too simplistic and often simply wrong. The most common explanation is that men attracted to transsexuals are secretly gay, but in denial. This has some prima facie sense to it, but it's completely inaccurate. The problem here is that if you're truly gay, a person that is, in appearance, attitude and psychology, 90% or more woman is simply not a reasonable substitute for a man. Gender is defined by far more than just the genitals, and even though that's primarily how society, when pressed, has differentiated gender in the past. But gender shows elsewhere too, in the rest of the body, in the face, in the hands, and then in much deeper ways that are harder to define without generalizing past the point of absurdity. I always hate ascribing personality traits to men and women based solely on gender, because you invariably run into contradictions that undermine individuality. However, whether from societal gender-typing or from some unknown brain-biology, fine points of personality and attitude do differ in subtle to broad ways between men and women.

However, as a bi-sexual, I would seem to be living evidence that at least some homosexual inclinations are necessary for an attraction to transsexuals, right? Don't I undermine my own argument? Do people into transsexuals have to be bisexual? Well no, not in my experience. From talking with other guys (and women) that are into T-Girls, the bulk of them are straight. Well, straighter than me. Straight but with a kink.

Another explanation is that T-girls represent the "best of both worlds". Obviously this is an intentionally simplistic short-hand, but I still disagree with it. And the reason is that, well, I dig the va-jay-jay too. I'd be hard pressed to say that the absence of coochie represents an improvement. In other words, I meet an interesting, attractive, funny and smart girl, I don't find myself thinking "if only she had a cock."

No, instead I think to myself "This chick is out of my league. I hope she likes guys that can solve a Rubik's Cube."

So what is behind the attraction? Well, I can't speak for anyone else. Actually, technically I have been for this entire post, but I'm gonna stop now. Anyhow, here it is. I'm attracted to transsexuals as a third gender. Women, but not exactly women. The first time I saw one, she just looked right. Not "natural" in terms of what I was expecting, but like she was what I didn't know I had been looking for. Not as a replacement for women (or men), but as another gender, and a beautiful one at that.

Plus I'm always attracted to people who become what they want to be, despite not being born into or living within circumstances that makes that practical. And the physical gender you're born into is almost universally considered a given, it's hard to imagine a tougher circumstance to overcome. I mean, can you imagine looking at your body and accepting that it was entirely wrong? That the very flesh you were born into was a mistake?

Ah, but here's where I gotta break out some honesty. Here's the part where my sensitivity and my sexuality collide. I'm attracted to transsexuals, but specifically "pre-op" transsexuals. In other words, prior to their sexual reassignment surgery. I like the meat between the legs. I said earlier that gender wasn't defined by a single body part, but the truth is, without a penis, a transsexual doesn't excite me. Now, the same is true for breasts or other feminine features, but there is a certain visual element. I don't feel too bad about this, because men are supposed to look one way, women another, and transsexuals a third. Technically, I suppose, this makes me tri-sexual, but I don't see any reason to make up new words here.

And there's the problem. As much as I'd like to believe that I could have a normal romantic relationship with a transsexual, I often wonder if I could. So far, my experience with t-girls has been largely an objectified one. Luckily, a lot of the transsexual pornstars, most notably Vicki Richter, but also Danielle Foxx and Vaniity, have things like Yahoo groups and the like that allows them to keep in touch with their fans. You couldn't really say that you're friends with any of these women just because you've posted to their group or anything, but often the messages they write are pretty personal, so you can appreciate their personality (Vicki, in particular, has loads of personality, which is why she's so cool).

Livin' the Liberal Life

2005-06-08T23:54:00.000-07:00

I got into a little tiff on a Yahoo transsexual group I belong to. Nothing big, but someone forwarded one of those ridiculous "feel-good" email things. It was something about how in the past we didn't have all these safety concerns like seatbelts and mothers smoking while pregnant and not drinking from the hose and yada, yada, yada. Their point was that people who grew up in the 30s-70s were made tougher and more intelligent because of all the risks they took (which is retarded, because risk-taking doesn't count if you're unaware of the fucking risks!).

So someone else replies "See what liberalism has done for us?"

Well, good little liberal that I am, that pisses me off, but I hold it in check since, for God's sake, this is a group that's supposed to be about photos of transsexuals. So I ignore it. Well, not ignore, but fail to respond to that obvious liberal baiting. Took the high road.

So someone else responds who claims to be a liberal but agrees with that statement. Then they say how betrayed they feel because even though they voted for Kerry, they're pissed off that Democrats aren't behind Bush's plans for pillaging reforming Social Security.

OK, so, apparently the high road for me lasts for one email reply. Anyhow, so I reply (quite reasonably, not ranting) that the Social Security plan is shit. I didn't use that term, but honestly, the plan is shit, and the fact that many (though, happily, not most) don't see it as shit proves that Karl Rove is, in fact, a Sith Lord. He was the apprentice of Darth Atwater.

I also pointed out this:

Further, I'd just like to point out that over the time period mentioned in this piece, segregation was ended, the depression was ended, the civil rights movement flourished, the sexual revolution happened, homosexuality, bisexuality and transgenderism have become largely accepted as not evil (not universally, granted), Americans have walked on the moon and fake breasts were invented. See what liberalism has done for us?

Anyhow, the moderator of the group gets on, talking about how he's a right-leaning moderate, then complains that what pisses him off is the fact that Democrats won't even sit down and talk to Bush about the Social Security plan. And he also says that the achievements I mentioned were not purely liberal ones.

OK, so I haven't responded to this email, and I'm not going to, but this is the most complete bullshit I've ever heard. Look, even if you're a supporter of President Bush, you have to admit that the man plays serious hardball, and that means not negotiating with Democrats ever. Ever. EVER. The only weapon the Democrats have is occasional public support when Rove & Co. haven't managed to completely alter the terms of debate, and when Dems use it, they're accused of "politicizing the issue", which is some serious pot and kettle crap.

I mean, I know some of you may not agree with me on this (although I think Aughra is probably on board, bless her bleedin' heart), but Bush is anything but a uniter, and compromise is the same as defeat to him. Conservative Republicans are long past the point of having to have serious policy debates with liberals because they own the White House, both houses of Congress, K Street and are using that influence to pack the judiciary with alarmingly conservative judges. The fact that they, time and time again, paint the Democrats as the great oppressors is one of the wildest magic tricks ever created.

And as for Republicans and conservatives participating in the great social movements of 20th century America, yeah he's right. No large political change happens without the willing participation of both parties. But let's be totally, brutally fucking honest here. Who fought desgregation the most, conservatives or liberals? That's right, social conservatives. Who opposed accepting homosexuality as a valid lifestlye the most, social conservatives or social liberals? That's right, social conservatives. Who opposed the New Deal the most? Economic conservatives. Let's face it, in the grand tradition of great societal change, conservatives are the ones who stood in the way the most, that's pretty much the definition of social conservatism right there. So let's not pretend that Rosa Parks was a right-wing hero back in the day, all right?

... Ah, I feel better now. It's been a while since I did any political blogging. Maybe later I'll get into why I'm so fascinated* by transsexuals.

*"Fascinated", of course, being a euphemism for "turned on by". But also genuinely fascinated too.

Today's Stripclub Lesson

2005-06-08T22:38:00.000-07:00

I went to Vegas for the weekend. You can probably guess this, but I love Vegas. Frankly, the best thing about Southern California is that it's only an hour's plane flight away from Sin City.

Theoretically, what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, but I'll dish some of the skinny on what I did. Did some gambling, natch, turns out I still have some poker skillz. Did some drinking, did some smoking, did some buffet-ing. And of course, hit the strip clubs.

Vegas has lots of them, but the best is the Olympic Gardens. It's not the classiest, it's not the newest, it doesn't have the hottest women. But the dancers there have the best overall attitude, the place is relaxed.

Now, here are the things I've learned about strip clubs over the years:

All strip club DJs sound exactly alike, everywhere in the world ("That's Diamond dancing for you on the main stage and next up is Bunny Shines. Bunny Shines to the main stage. Now here's the second song of your two-for-one!")

They never play the full song. Cheap bastards.

Orange County, CA, has some intensely lame strip clubs

The lawless Inland Empire (an otherwise very boring area of California outside of LA) has extremely good strip clubs.

The best outfit to wear to a strip club is boxers, loose pants, no belt and a button down shirt without a t-shirt. It's all about easy access reducing layers.

Don't take an ATM card to strip clubs that serve alcohol. You're just asking for trouble. Trust me on this.

So what did I learn this time? OK, here it is: Those dancers that come up to you the moment you walk through the door? Stay away. Yeah, they're hot, they seem friendly and yeah, they keep promising really wild dances, but you're gonna find yourself down almost two hundred bucks within 15 minutes and have to spend the rest of the night pacing your lap-dances, rather than blowing it all on a girl you really dig and who you manage to fool yourself into thinking really digs you.

Yeah. That's pretty much how it went down. In detail, it went like this. My buddy and I walk in, and are immediately approached by two hot dancers. Mine was Italian, and I'm a sucker for accents, so already I'm at a disadvantage. They're like, "Let's go get a seat!" So we sit down, and immediately my girl is like "Let's do a lapdance" and I'm saying "You know, I just got here, I'd sort of like to have a drink first." And she says, "Come on, you'll really like it."

This is an excellent time to point out that of all the phrases I know, "No thank you, I'm going to decline doing that thing you want me to do" or variants is the one I use the least. I'm really a "yeah, sure" type of guy.

So, she's giving me this lapdance, and the entire time she's saying "let's go to the VIP room. I can't give you a good dance out here." See the prior paragraph for an explanation of why I gave into this.

OK, so I'm getting my three dances in the VIP room (retail value, $60, but somehow it costs $100 plus two overpriced drinks plus a $20 tip for the manager of the VIP room to "give us a little more privacy", which is a huge scam since it in no way affects the dance whatsoever), and she says "you should get the half hour dance, it's a much better deal".

Seriously, isn't there a point where you take a break from asking me for money? Stop trying to sell me crap and just get on with the dance. I gotta say, of all the things you can say while shoving your breasts in my crotch, "give me more dough" is by far the least erotic. Well, maybe second to "...and that's why it itches so bad!" But the point is, plenty of dancers take a much more laid-back attitude that's just plain more fun. No less costly, but far more worth it.

OK, so there it is. Just say no until you've had a chance to site down and grab a drink. Also, if you doubt my wisdom, just know that this isn't based on this one incident. I'm nothing if not scientific about my boobie-bar patronage.

So off topic...

2005-05-29T03:31:00.000-07:00

That it's pretty much violating my rules of what I allow myself to post here (namely, it has to be something I don't want to post on my other blog), but Aughra started talking about TV, and of course, I'm always ready to talk about TV.

Anyhow, ahem... Nyah, nyah, nyah, nyah -- I got the NewsRadio DVD! First two seasons of Foley/Tierney/Hartman(-ey)/Root(-ey) goodness, muthahfuckas!

Super-Karate-Monkey-Death-Car.

If you know what that means then Kudos!

If not then, Good day, sir... I said, "Good day, sir"!

ADD

2005-05-20T01:20:00.000-07:00

When I was 22, I found out I had Attention Deficit Disorder.

Well, that's not exactly true. I'd known for quite a long time, in the sense that I knew my brain worked differently from most other people's. That statement would be true even if there was no such thing as ADD, but that's beside the point. Anyhow, I knew that at the very core of how I think and how I divide my concentration, I tended to be different. It wasn't until I learned what ADD really was that I realized it applied to me. I always thought that ADD meant you couldn't concentrate at all, and the truth is, I have an amazing ability to concentrate, better than nearly every person I've ever met. That's not bragging, that's just how it is. But the problem is I can't choose what to concentrate on. Either something catches my interest, in which case it envelops me completely, or it doesn't catch my interest, in which case paying any attention to it is a massive chore that I usually tend to abandon until it becomes impossible to ignore (and often, even then). There is virtually no middle ground. Anything that looks normal concentration is just me pretending to care.

When I first found out, I was a little angry that I hadn't been diagnosed before. In many ways, aside from hyperactivity which doesn't tend to manifest itself in me except for hands that have to be constantly in motion, I've got all the classic symptoms. I'm messy, I can be impulsive, I like gambling, deadlines don't mean shit to me, never did my homework but did well on tests, seem to need constant stimulation and sensory input. But then I realized that if I had been given this label before I was ready to really understand what it meant, I'd have accepted it as a core deficiency and I think I would have failed to realize that there's benefits to it as well.

ADD is very misunderstood. It's both over diagnosed and under diagnosed. It really comes down to who is doing the diagnosing, and it's usually not someone with the knowledge or training to accurately diagnose it. For some, every single behavioral problem is childhood ADD. For others, they don't believe ADD exists and see any form of medication as mind control.

I'm bringing this up now because it's been on my mind lately. For several years after being diagnosed I was on Ritalin and Desoxyn. At the moment, I'm not, but not because I shouldn't be. I should. But a confluence of factors (ironically related to having ADD) I sort of went off it. I'm increasingly realizing this is a poor decision. I don't work as hard (the last couple months aside), my apartment is a huge fucking mess, I'm tired all the time. It'd be ridiculous to pretend Ritalin or any other med would magically fix that, but certain things are just easier when I'm on it, and I really should go back to it.

But the problem is having ADD makes it very difficult to get treatment for ADD. I have to find a new, more local doctor, but that involves things like paperwork and dealing with insurance and blah blah blah. I swear, I have an honest to god fear of forms. I can't stand them. Though in my previous job, I often had to design forms, and that was very pleasurable work, because I could make the form that I wanted to fill out. The non-scary form. The form that didn't ask ambiguous, unanswerable questions. The form that didn't make you feel like an asshole for not being able to fit your social security number in the half inch space provided. Medical forms are generally not like that at all. Medical forms are designed to make you feel retarded. I'm in awe of people that seem to effortlessly navigate through reams of paperwork, whether for loans, healthcare, fishing permits or whatever. To me, it's like being able to bench press a car.

None of this has anything to do with what I generally post about (sex and more sex). But it's been on my mind lately. I guess if I have a point (and it's really not safe to assume that I do), it's that I miss Ritalin. It's not a wonder drug, it didn't "cure" anything, didn't turn me into Superman nor turn me into a zombie. But things were just a little easier, and I miss that.

The grass smells fresher, the birds sing brighter

2005-05-17T01:24:00.000-07:00

I've been in a funk lately. Not entirely, but there's been this one aspect of my life, that I have no control over, that for the past few months has been weighing me down. A great fear of impending doom.

It may seem trivial to you, but to me, well, nothing less than the question of whether justice truly exists in this world was riding on the outcome of a decision made by people I've never even met, and I'll admit, it was looking bad. Looking downright grim.

But today, a great flood of relief. I can face the future knowing at least one thing I love will still be there for me.

"Arrested Development" got renewed.

A great sigh of relief, not having to face a Bluth-less future. And the suits at Fox, for once, haven't made a huge mistake.

Didn't I promise you a sex story?

2005-04-22T00:05:00.000-07:00

I'm back but don't get used to it. Still swamped at work, which does kinda blow, but to be totally honest, this is the first time in a while that I've been really committed to work in a while, so there's a bit of the fun too. I mean, I prefer to get in a mode of working where I become obsessed with a project, that's where I find I'm my most fulfilled. Otherwise I feel pretty disconnected and have trouble focusing on my job, and the last year or so it's been like that especially. So even if the current work obsession is a little on the "forced" side (if I had my way, I wouldn't be this committed to this project, or at least not to the aspects that I have to work on), it's good to be in the thick of it.

So yeah, that explains my absence. Well, partially. The other part is that I've been avoiding you. I mean, not really, but a little bit. In the last post I promised to talk about having sex recently, which is actually a fairly rare thing for me to do, if for no other reason than the general rareness of the act itself. Plus it's gay sex, not straight sex, and hardly earth-shattering sex at that. I thought I was being bold here, but admitting being bi and actually offering up real honest to god proof are two different things in my mind, as it turns out. And what am I afraid of, that you'll judge me? Well, yeah, actually, I suppose I am.

But fuck it, here goes.

So a couple of weeks ago I decide that it's high time I get myself laid, and luckily that's an easy thing to do at a moments notice if you live in the area I live. Specifically, if you live just a few miles from a couple of bathhouses. So I took a trip to the North Hollywood Spa. Yeah, this is a bathhouse story. Very classy. Don't judge me.*

I know most of you have never been to one, mainly because so many of you are women, and sadly the lesbian bathhouse is just a lovely figment of my imagination. Anyhow, here's the skinny on how they work. Basically, the "bath" portion of bathhouse is generally the least important part. That's pretty much just a large, often unoccupied jacuzzi. It's a euphimism for "horny guys in towels cruising for other horny guys in towels" and the action generally takes place in steamrooms, saunas, or in the many tiny private rooms.

I get my room, get naked, wrap a towel around my waist and head for the steamroom, which in this place is often pretty active. Steamrooms are weird because everyone in there is there looking to hook up, but aften are shy about showing it. I go in and there's like at least five guys in there already. It's a steamroom, and fairly dark, so if you're at one end of it, it's hard to see the other end clearly, which offers a little bit of privacy. I sit down near another guy who is probably in his 40s. He starts rubbing his cock, which is the subtle bathhouse code for "let's play".

He meets my fairly non-rigorous standards of looks (basically not morbidly obese, not disgustingly hairy and 4" or greater) and so I do the Bathhouse-Acknowledgement-of-Interest manuever.

Which means I start sucking his cock. And I'm pretty happy with my time-to-nasty, which is my private term for the amount of time between when I first walk in the bathhouse to when I'm actually having sex. A low TTN means I'm sluttin' it up which is secretly thrilling.

So I'm sucking him off, we're making out some (decent kisser, needs a shave) and playing with each other's nipples. I notice that he's got excellent muscles. I notice this because he keeps encouraging me to kiss his biceps. Which is so weird. I'm jacking myself off a lot too. I don't remember if he sucked my cock, which probably means he didn't, but that doesn't matter, as I'm more of a giver. He cums after a little while, although rather quietly, which I understand because even though you're getting sucked off in a steamroom surrounded by other men, there's something oddly intimate about your orgasm that makes you not want to draw attention to yourself. It's a weird instinct, but there it is. Soon after that, he whispers to me "I want to see you shoot on my muscles."

I didn't burst out laughing, but I wanted to. And this is the thing, for other guys, that would have been a major turn-on statement, so you really can't hold it against him for saying it. But for me, it's just funny, because that's totally not why I'm having sex with him.

Anyway, despite all that, I'm pretty happy to oblige. The only downside is that my refractory period is longer than I'd like, so I'd rather not cum so soon after getting there. But I'm having fun, so why the hell not? I jerk off onto his (admittedly well-defined) abs, making more noise than he did, but still with the inexplicable steamroom mute factor. I don't understand that, since part of the fun of fooling around in the steamroom is exploring my exhibitionist side, but then again, I'm actually pretty shy, so I suppose it's not all that strange. At any rate, it felt good, especially since he was massaging my balls as I came— a very sweet gesture.

Pretty soon I have to leave because the heat is getting to me. Quick shower, then I head up to my room. I grab a cigarette and my super-cool Zippo lighter and go out onto the sundeck. One of the nice things about this (and many other California bathhouses) is that they have a nice private area to catch some sun. Since I'm an apartment dweller, laying out nude isn't something I get to experience as often as I'd like, and this is one of the first decently warm days in a really long time. It's not that warm (it's certainly been a lot hotter since) but it's enough for a few minutes.

After that, I head back to my room and took a little nap. Then I opened up my door, which is the signal for "open for business". Guys cruise up and down the halls checking in the various rooms for someone who might be a compatible partner. It's a strange scene, but it works.

Anyhow, eventually a guy comes by and expresses interest and I express interest back. It's hard to describe how this takes place, since there's usually not a heary "Hello! How ya doin?". There's a great deal of hesitancy as we confirm each others' signals until the door closes, then we both know it's safe to admit we're horny.

Anyhow, this guy is an Asian fellow. Normally I don't go in for Asians, which is totally wrong of me (especially being half Japanese myself) but what can you do? In fact, sadly, I have a general preference for white guys. It's not a hard and fast rule, I've been with pretty much every race and many of my best homosexual experiences where with other races, but instinct draws me to whitey. Interestingly, I have no such instinct when it comes to the girls I dig.

Anyhow, he starts rubbing my legs softly, very sensuously. I think "this is gonna be pretty good." Pretty soon we're making out (I'm big on the kissing) and I'm really getting into it. He starts blowing me, but he's a bit on the toothy side in his technique. This kinda surprised me. Eventually one thing leads to another and pretty soon he's fucking me. Which I really wasn't planning on doing that day and hadn't done any of the prep work that should go into it. But things seem to be working pretty well.

But then he starts asking me "does that feel good? Does that feel good?" I keep answering yes, but really the question is getting pretty annoying around the fortieth time. I mean, please, you're fucking me in my asshole, it's not gonna feel like kittens licking my toes. But he does seem to enjoy being with me.

However, I'm kinda getting annoyed with him. Really, you gotta stop asking if it feels good. The whole point of letting someone stick there dick anywhere inside me is to make that person feel good. That's what I get off on. It's not about it feeling good for me, it's about it feeling good for you and not feeling bad for me. We can trade places later.

And then he asks me if I love him.

And this time I actually do laugh out loud. "No, sorry!" I say.

"Well, not love, but, you know, does the feeling like love," he says.

All I can do is giggle some more and say no. I know he wants me to say yes to some sort of romantic feeling, but I'm not gonna lie to him. I don't say this to him, but love is a big word with a great deal of meaning for me and I'm not going to equate random sex with someone who's name I don't know to anything even approaching love. It's closer to glorified masturbation than to anything romantic.

And after a little while and a position change, he start asking me to make more noise. He asks very politely, but I can tell apparently I'm not giving him what I want in the noise department. And I'm making noise, it's really hard not to when getting a butt-rogering. But he starts saying something about how the noise is what makes for good memories for him, so he'd really like to hear more.

Which I totally understand, but my feeling is if I'm on the receiving end of an ass-fucking, it's a little on the inconsiderate side to complain to me about not dancing too. It'd be different if it was part of the act, if he was all "Say my name, bitch!". I'd totally be like "Fuck yeah! Henry! Henry!" and he'd be like "My name isn't Henry" because I'm so bad with names. You get what I'm saying.

Anyhow, pretty soon thereafter I tell him I "need a break" which can mean that I genuinely need a break, and this will be resumed shortly soon after, or it means "I'm moving on, smell ya later, chump". I meant the latter, he thought I meant the former.

After he leaves, it's shower time and then calling it a day. This really isn't the best bathhouse experience, but despite how it may seem here, actually still kinda fun, if for no other reason than it's been a while.

So there it is. Again, sorry for taking so long to get this one out the door.

*Actually, feel free to judge me, just for the love of God, don't tell me about it. Actually, feel free to tell me about it too. I guess I'm really not into imposing rules.

MIA? AWOL? Where the fuck am I?

2005-04-12T00:08:00.000-07:00

Yeah... I know it's been an ass-long time since I updated. Really busy at work and that means my nighttime is wasting away. Lame. Work interfering with my "me-time"? Jesus, you'd think I was a grown-up or something. And actually I got stuff I want to post (like having sex a week ago, go me! It's less exciting than you might think).

But I'm afraid I'm just gonna have to keep you waiting. I should be in bed already. Maybe tomorrow.

Anyhow, just wanted to check in, say hi, let you know I haven't died or fallen in a well or anything.

I look goooooood in black

2005-03-30T23:59:00.000-08:00

I really do. Apparently I'm a "winter". I don't exactly know what that even really means. For instance, in the season 2 Buffy episode "What's My Line" (actually a two-part episode), Cordelia claims to be both a winter and a summer. If I knew my shit about the whole skin/hair/color matrix I'd know whether this was even possible.

Where was I? Oh yeah, anyhow, I do look good in black. I'd wear more black, but then you get the rep of being either "goth" or "arty", neither of which are bad, but neither of them particularly fit me, so I throw in some other colors.

Like Grey... in various shades.

Anyhow, inspired by Bec's post about her obsessive-compulsive (just kidding, Bec) matching of bras and panties, I started thinking about my boxers and shorts combos. And I suddenly had a question:

If I look so good in black, how come I look so damn silly when I'm naked except for black socks? If I wear just white socks, then it's fine. It looks like I just haven't gotten around to the socks yet, or maybe the floor is cold and I'm being practical (the cold would be indicated by shrinkage). But black socks, well, you really just have to laugh, and that's not the reaction I like when I'm naked unless I'm doing a nudist comedy routine or if laughing really, really makes your really horny regardless of the source of the laughter. And even then, I'm just putting up with it because it might get me laid.

So, apparently I look good in black, but my calves do not.

Freaky ass mystery about butts

2005-03-28T22:32:00.000-08:00

Cigarette butts to be precise. I go out into my tiny back yard and have a cigarette. It's a nice little relaxing thing. I have a little saucer that I keep the butts in, because I'm too lazy to get a real ashtray.

And, let's face it, I'm a little lazy about emptying the thing. So it's pretty much overflowing. With the recent rains (California has so far experienced its wettest year in over a century), the butts have formed a little solid mass of expended nicotine, filters and burnt cloves.

OK, so I have part of a cigarette, stick it in the pile, go inside, watch "Las Vegas", take a crap. It's an exciting life I lead. In the meantime, the wind is kicking up something pretty fierce. In fact, while I'm on the john, it almost sounds like maybe there's someone in the backyard.

Then I go for my 10:15 smoke before watching my tivo'd "24". And, what the hell is this? Where's my solid mass of butts? All that's left in the saucer are a few butts cemented around the edges and a mass of ash in the center. So, frankly, this kinda concerns me.

I mean, there's basically three theories. The first is that the big winds carried it off in one huge clump, leaving nearly no evidence behind. Or a bird came along and grabbed the whole mass (and if she's lining her nest for her newborns with it, I'm gonna feel real guilty). Or my landlord, seeing the massively overflowing pile, did a little emptying.

Pretty much all three theories sound like bullshit to me. The first sounds unlikely because I looked all over my backyard, and there really was no evidence of that. The second is even more ridiculous. There's no way any animal could have taken it without leaving a little trail of stubs behind, and I think it would pretty much break apart pretty quickly. And the third, which is scary for being the most plausible, requires my landlord to go into my backyard in the middle of a big wind, and then do a half-ass job of emptying the saucer. I don't see any of these things happening, but the landlord thing seems most likely. And I can only think he'd be thinking "what an irresponsible slob".

I hate the thought of pissing him off because he's very forgiving about not being totally on time with the rent, generally isn't nosy and is a pretty nice guy.

So I keep looking for plausible theory number four, because though all the evidence points to it, this last theory really isn't much better than the other ones. So far I've come up with hallucination, something involving the neighbor's cat or the hand of God.

Whatever, enough of the paranoia. I've got the Jack Bauer Power Hour to get to.

Gaydar Pings

2005-03-22T00:12:00.000-08:00

So, I mentioned getting really, really drunk on St. Patty's day. But I forgot to mention about the guy that I think was hitting on me. I'm not a hundred percent sure of this, but, you know, signs and all.

First there was the buying each other drinks, then the going outside for a smoke, then the asking me about my ethnicity, and he gave me one of those drunk-guy hugs. Of all of them, the ethnicity thing is usually a dead giveaway. It's the male equivalent to "I've seen you around before"*. I mean, granted it's not easy to tell my racial background on sight, as I'm mixed, but nonetheless, men usually don't ask unless they already are pretty familiar with me or are hitting on me. I think the reason is this: It just plain sounds kinda gay. It's admitting you noticed another guy's looks which straight guys feel pretty uncomfortable doing.

Now, I was there with friends, so it really wasn't gonna happen regardless. But then again, I was drunk, so if I was there by myself, who knows? Of course, going to a bar by myself isn't really my scene (which is a shame, actually). And he was about my age, which for some reason tends to be the age range I'm least interested in (generally prefer older guys, dunno why).

Yet, like I said, I'm not a hundred percent on this. It might have just been being out drinking in a new place, and the thrill of the exotic and whatever getting into my head.

Incidentally, apparently this is a bar often frequented by porn stars. (I live in the Valley, porn capital of the whole damn world. Nice, huh?) This pretty much means I need to go there more. Because if it's a bar where I'm getting hit on by guys and have the potential of seeing Cytherea live and in person, then, well, this really is my kind of place. I mean, not that I even expect anything to actually happen, but in terms of ego stroking and gawking, well.. how can you not? Besides, it's a pretty fun place. Besides, where else has karaoke on a Tuesday night?

*I have a theory about women. Basically, like all men, my understanding of women is massively underdeveloped. But I have a rather Socratic understanding of women, which is that I at least understand that I understand nothing about you gals. However, I do seem to understand one thing, and I've verified this through field-testing and interviews: The phrase "I've seen you around before" in girl-speak means, more or less, "I want to have sex with you".

Finally got off my ass...

2005-03-21T21:40:00.000-08:00

... And created a blog roll. I notice I'm showing up on other people's, so it really does seem the right thing to do to return the favor. Plus from a certain point of view, the blog roll is as important to the whole concept as the entries themselves, because it forms a social network, blah blah blah... six degrees, yada yada yada.

But the point is, if you're not already, you really should check out the blogs I've got listed. Well, the shemale one really depends on your tastes, but all the rest are fascinating regardless of your orientation.

If you get off on technical details, here's the skinny: hand entered directly into the template (the first customization I made, thank you very much), which is kind of a lame way to do it but I didn't want to bother with another service and I've got mad HTML skillz anyway. I briefly considered making it XFN-friendly, but I haven't even done that on my main blog, and I'd give this one have any sort of geek-hand that one. It's a nerd thing, you wouldn't understand. At any rate, if there's an easier way to manage the blogroll from within Blogger, I'd love to know about it,

Proud of my score

2005-03-20T03:40:00.000-08:00

I saw another blog I read had their purity test score posted and suddenly realized this blog is perfect, because I've never been able to be honest about my score before. So here's my score.

I scored
37¾%
on the classic 400 Point Purity Test!

Take the test here!

It would be even lower, but apparently necrophilia isn't one of my kinks. And also none of my relatives have the required combination of hotness, stability and open-mindedness for me to sleep with. I suppose I should be glad for both of these things. I also have apparently not had nearly enough sex in moving vehicles of any sort, which I'm actually disappointed in. I mean, I've been in cars, buses, motorhomes, trains, planes, ships, etc., but haven't done tha' nasty in any of them.

Well, not while they were in motion anyway.

You know what they say, if the tiny bathroom in the back of coach is rockin, don't come a' knockin' unless you're about to inform of us of impending cabin de-pressurization.

Also, before anyone says it: Yeah, I know purity tests are so high-school, what're you gonna do about it? Besides, my answers back then weren't any fun.

Happy St. Fuckin' Patty's Day

2005-03-18T00:24:00.000-08:00

I am so fucking drunk right now you wouldn't believe it. Or maybe you would. Anyhow, March 17th turned out to be more of a blast than I thought it would, although it will end in me jerking off rather than swallowing cum or gulping down girl-cum or whatever. Anyhow, just thought it would be funny to post while the room is spinning. I'll regret it tomorrow, I know.

Off to smoke.

Famous guys I would fellate and admit to my friends that I had done so

2005-03-15T00:44:00.000-08:00

Jon Stewart

that's the whole list.

Oh, and Joss Whedon

Is it Death Appreciation Week?

2005-03-15T00:23:00.000-08:00

My, my! For some reason, a lot of the blogs I've been reading suddenly all started simultaneously talking about death. Which, to be totally honest, kinda creeps me the fuck out. I mean, I'm comfortable with everyone taking a little time to ruminate publicly on the big sleep and the hereafter and such.

But really, does everyone have to do it at the same exact time?

Looking on my Dilbert calendar, today is "Canadian Commonwealth Day" not "You and everyone you know are going to DIE Day" (I would have used hyphens, but I'm still over my quota).

So please, everyone talking about death, could you all alternate weeks or something? I'd be happy to coordinate if that's what it takes (and, for the record, I never offer to coordinate nuthin').

What up with commenting

2005-03-10T21:55:00.000-08:00

Is anyone else having trouble commenting? Of course, if you are, you won't be able to leave me a comment and tell me. But if you aren't, then WTF? Why can't I seem to comment on anyone's Blogger blogs? I can get to the comment form on my own blog, but if I try anyone else's, I get "Blog not found".

I can't help thinking that it's like Blogger has a grudge against me. It's kind of hurting my ego, even though I know it's probably just some minor technical problem. Whatev.

Am I the only male sex-blogger?

2005-03-07T23:27:00.000-08:00

See, part of why I started this blog was to have a fun little anonymous place to tell the world all the things I can't tell my friends. I realized I can do this after cruising around other people's Blogger sites and seeing the freedom that the hidden nature of the internet was allowing them. That's something I can't do on my "real" blog, the one named after me, the one my mom reads, the one that comes up first when you Google my name. It's sort of like the explosion of amateur porn back in the 90's, except that even on your dirtiest blogs, the interest comes more from the exploration of sexuality itself rather than the actual sex. God, I hope that makes sense. Basically it's fascinating to me to see sex from the emotional point of view of another person, and to see it separated from the neurotic baggage that would come if they were telling me about it in person.

(Side note: clicking the "Next Blog>>" link at the top of the page can bring up really interesting blogs. Most of the ones I'm reading now I've discovered while wasting hours click-click-clicking to bring up the next random blogger.)

But here's what I've noticed: All the ones I'm reading are by women. The only halfway interesting one by a guy that I've found is a guy blogging about his experiences with hookers. And, frankly, he's kind of an asshole. I mean, going around looking for crack-whores, fascinating as it may be sociologically, isn't the most admirable trait.

So, what up? Normally when people ascribe personality traits strictly along gender lines, I tend to roll my eyes. It's just not true and a coarse grouping of gender with behavior really tends to miss the point as well as marginalizing those on the behavioral fringe. And speaking as one of those fringies, I gotta say I don't like it. Quit marginalizing me, fuckers!

Yet there we are. Wanna read a good blog that's honest about sexuality? It's gonna be by a woman. Or it's gonna be mine. Now, it's not that I mind, per se, women's views of sexuality remains ever mysteriously open-ended to me so I can read it forever. Especially when it's mixed in with details of daily life that prove it's not just living out a fantasy online. And maybe it's for the best, I imagine many men's blogs would be largely boasting or bullshit or both. (Hey, who's generalizing now? It turns out there is a bit of the hypocrite in me). Yeah... this might be one of those be-careful-what-you-wish-for-because-you-might-get-it-and-it-will-smack-you-upside-the-head-and-steal-your-iPod sorta things. But surely other guys have things they want to get off their chest, too, right?

[OK, technically that's the end of the post. I thought it was a good line to go out on, but I keep looking at the title of the post and it bothers me a lot, so I just want to clarify. The term "sex-blogger", though descriptive, I think paints an imprecise portrait of what I think of this blog, or of others that I read. And I'm all about precision. "Sex-blogger" sounds like some sort of obsessed and narrowly-focused thing, and actually I want this to be rather more, but the term "sexuality-in-America-as-experienced-by-a-bi-guy-with-brief-detours-into-other-topics-as-they-come-up-blogger" is a little wordy, and technically I exhausted my hyphen limit in the previous paragraph, so now I have to dig into my punctuation overdraft account.]

Pimping Amazon

2005-03-06T00:16:00.000-08:00

This post pointed me to this book which reminded me of this movie. It's "Ponstar: The Legend of Ron Jeremy".

Ron Jeremy is one ugly mofo, but he has a sense of humor about what he does, which is cool. But that's not why this movie is so good. What makes this movie so good is that not too long into the movie, you realize that Ron Jeremy is an incredibly pathetic person. I mean, really, pretty pathetic.

And by the end of that movie, you still think he's pathetic, but you respect and admire him too. And that's weird. Usually, respect replaces condescension, so you no longer consider the person to be such a loser. So it's a really strange experience to find yourself admiring someone you genuinely consider to be pathetic. For that reason alone, I'd recommend this documentary. It's also a pretty fascinating look into the porn world from a guy who's been in it forever.

Nipple clamps

2005-03-05T14:50:00.000-08:00

I'm thinking about getting nipple clamps. I don't know why, I don't have particularly sensitive nipples and I'm not that into pain (except for a good spanking) but lately I've been thinking they'd be pretty hot. Also I'd like a new butt-plug. Just thought I'd mention that.

Foxx-y Tatoo

2005-02-27T21:40:00.000-08:00

What the fuck is the tattoo on the back of Jamie Foxx's head? I'm shame-facedly watching Botox and soft-focus Barbara Wawa verbally fellate Jamie Foxx, post Oscars, and I keep wondering about this tattoo. I was also wondering it about every single time they cut to the back of his head in the Oscar telecast.

Jamie Foxx is awesome, but what posesses one, while scouting tat locations, to choose the back of their head? The upside is that should you ever divorce/change religions/realize Hanson sucks or otherwise grow to regret whatever it is the ink is honoring, you can just grow your hair out and like magic, it's gone. That's why, if I ever get a tattoo, I might want to get one in my pubic region. Plus it would be a good excuse to take my pants off when I'm trying to close the deal.

Let's Clarify the Peanuts Tip

2005-02-27T04:30:00.000-08:00

First off, I totally dig "Peanuts". I think Charles Schulz will be considered one of the great twentieth century writers in a hundred years. I'm not kidding, it'll be Hemmingway, Faulkner and Schulz that ninth graders will study in 2105. Well, probably not... Faulkner is hard to teach.

Anyhow, popular alt consensus holds that Peppermint Patty and Marcie were lesbians. Now, it's actually a bit sacreligous Schulz-wise to talk about any Peanuts characters as sexual beings, but romantically speaking, people may have a point. Certainly they were clearly the most stereotypically "10 percent" of any Peanuts characters, but I have a problem with this. You see, bad haircuts and interest in sports aside (not to mention the discipline-ish tendency of Marcie to call Peppermint Patty "sir"), they both represented a fairly clear romantic inteterest in Charlie Brown, who was himself obsessed with the little red-haired girl (Barbara Johnson in real life, but that's another story).

So what I'm getting at is this. Sure, maybe later in life Marcie and Peppermint Patty did some good old-fashioned clit diving with each other, but what they really wanted was some hot Marcie-Patty-Charlie Brown three-way action, right? I mean, for the love of God, who wouldn't want to go to town with a baldish round-headed kid and a nerd in glasses?

In the meantime, consider this: Sally loved Linus. Lucy loved Schroeder. Linus loved his teacher Mrs. Othmar (nee Hagemeyer, or was it the other way around?). That leaves Franklin (the Black kid) and Schroeder all lustless. I see a little hot interracial bangin' in their future.

Porn Critic

2005-02-20T04:36:00.000-08:00

I watch an assload of porn. I surf the internet for porn. I hate admitting it, because I think you can tell from the amount of sex I watch other people having, how little of it I get on my own. The funny thing is, I just about never watch gay porn, even though I have gay sex more often than straight sex. I suppose it isn't that funny if you think about it.

Anyhow, my tastes in porn are pretty eclectic. I love straight porn, shemale porn, the ocassional gay porn (with a weakness for bareback, shame on me). My current favorite porn star in the straight world is the psychotically hot Cytherea, who really is so fucking hot I can't even believe it. First of all, she's a squirter, which means (for those of you unlucky enough to not know) that she can have female ejaculations. I had a girlfriend that could do this, but I was 16 and therefor an asshole and couldn't appreciate how cool this is. Boy if I could relive that. Anyhow, not every girl can do this, and of those that can, very few can do it as much or as often as hot Cytherea. But her hotness doesn't begin or end there. She's also a freaky firecat in bed, has tons of personality, is so damn cute I just want to eat her up, and has a smile so bright you astronauts can see it from space.

And this past January, she won AVN's "Best New Starlet" award. You go, girl! (Pretend I'm a Black woman while reading that last statement... actually, as long as we're pretending, make it a really hot Black woman. That can squirt.)

Anyhow, apparently her main competition for this award was a girl named "Teagan". Teagan Presley to be exact. Now I haven't heard of her, but if she can compete with my lovely Cythera (whose named for the Greek goddess of beauty and music and high foreheads) then she's gotta be something, right? So why the fuck haven't I heard of her?

Well, probably because it's because despite how much porn I watched, and how diverse it is, it's a very focused viewing. I get into a girl and watch a lot of her. There was Tori Wells, my first porn crush (that chick could give a blowjob like nobody's business, who cares if she appears to be as dumb as a starfish?), then later Shane (of Shane's World and Shane's Slumber Party), Cheyenne Silver, Cassidey, Vaniity, Vicki Richter, Danielle Foxx, etc. So now Cytherea.

Where the fuck was I? Oh yeah, Teagan and why I've never heard of her. Anyways, some Googling of her reveals that she's plenty hot, with a Britney Spears-ish kinda look. So I wish I could find some videos of her on DeluxePass, but unfortunately DeluxePass doesn't let you search all the various sites for a given porn star.

This would make my porn-crushes so much easier.

So, in short, viva girl-squirting! Viva Cytherea! Teagan, you're next in line! DeluxePass, I love you, but it seems to me you could try a little harder to feed my obsessions.

Smokin'

2005-01-30T18:34:00.000-08:00

I've been smoking more and more lately. I started a little over a year ago, which is lame, since I managed to spend nearly three decades not smoking, but now I am. Oh well, I've always known I'm a smoker, just one that hasn't started yet. Just like I figure I'm an alcoholic that hasn't developed yet, and a drug addict who has luckily only gotten stoned once (and some cocaine).

So as far as chemical vices, smoking is it for now. I know it's weird to say, but I genuinely believe I'm living on the constant edge of a full-blown addiction to nearly everything. Not just drugs, nicotine and alcohol, but gambling, television, sex, etc. So normally I'm not a very self-controlled person. Personal discipline really factors into my life pretty rarely. However, in this area, I've managed to steer clear despite my best instincts.

Congratulations Vicki Richter

2005-01-12T02:50:00.000-08:00

OK, first of all, I love t-girls. The hottest of them are insanely beautiful.

My favorite TS porn star is Vicki Richter, a real down-to-earth girl with a great sense of humor and hot as hell and a great cock. She won "Transsexual Performer of the Year" at this year's AVN awards which just concluded. She really did have an amazing year, including a psychotically hot scene with Danielle Foxx (another lovely shemale) and Arianna Jolie, a squirting little hot woman. That scene is in "Shemale Road-Trip 9".

She was also in several other scenes this year (as well as the groundbreaking "Brazen Shemales" last year with Joanna Jett) but I'm too tired/lazy/horny to go look up which ones they were. At any rate, if you're like me and have any interest at all in the gorgeous shemales, you really should check out Vicki. She's sexy, funny, nice and smart. And apparently a good kisser, although I have yet to find out for myself (fingers crossed).

Anyhow, congrats Vicki, I love you to death and how 2005 is a great year for you!

Living the Bi Life

2005-01-05T01:17:00.000-08:00

See, here's the thing. I'm a bisexual male. But damn near no one who knows me, gay or straight, knows I'm bi. I've found that people just don't fucking believe in bi fucking. I'm constantly afraid that if I come out to any of my straight friends as being bi that they'll believe "bi" is code for 'gay" and think that my interest in women is just for show. Or worse, my straight (or gay) guy friends will think that I want to fuck them.

Which is, of course, ridiculous. I have absolutely no desire to fuck my guy friends... I'm much more of a bottom.

Ha-ha! Just kidding! I'm versatile. Actually, the thing is, I don't really have a physical attraction to men. I mean, I see a guy that would ordinarily be considered "cute" or "handsome" to women or gay men, and it does nothing for me. Although a nice thick hard cock, well, that's something else.

But I'm definitely attracted to women. Breasts, coochies, ass, lips, hips, hair, their scent. Hot hot hot.

So how does it work then that I'm bi, you ask? It's hard to explain. But I love having sex, men or women (although I get a lot more men). Being with men can be just as sensual and definitely as sexual as being with women, and I guess I just lack whatever natural squeamishness that most people have for sex with their own gender. I don't like getting too intimate with guys. Want to make me lose my woody? Tell me you love me in that husky male voice.

But I love the kissing. Men and women, I just plain love making out. I never (well rarely) have been with a prostitute, but if there were such a thing as "make-out whores" I'd totally be there.

Anyhow, so why bother talking about all this? Well, simply put, I'm sick of not talking about all this. I'm sick of not being able to tell my friends how hot a time I had at a bathhouse the night before. And I'm sick of not being able to tell the men I'm with how hot Cassidey was in that porno I just watched. And I'm completely sick of not being able to tell anyone how unbelievably beautiful I find Vicki Richter or Vaniity, the astonishingly gorgeous transsexual porn stars I've jerked off to many times.

So that leaves strangers, and the only way to tell complete strangers about your sex life is using the internet. Thank god for Blogger! Thanks Google!

So, there it is. A lot of these posts will be sexual, obviously, but not necessarily all of them. I'll be telling you about everything. The people I've been with, the porn I jerk off to, my time in strip clubs, etc, etc.