another one of those fucking annoying ecards!

relationshits - not normalling (working with your partner)

"lesbians."

"what?"

"you two. lesbians. you two stay at home. cook. cuddle. talk about your feelings. you don't go out anymore. you're lesbians."

friends told us. and as you know, all fags are the authority on what constitutes an exciting life. afterall those narcissistic personality disorder ridden shitstabbers are at the height of the fucking social ladder leading the uber-awesome lifestyle of non-stop sex, drugs and rock'n'roll that we all envy. right? lesbians are at the bottom of the ladder. they have a snog, buy a dog each and move in with each other never to be seen again.

regardless how our arrogant cunt friends say it, it was becoming the general consensus. we were boring

so, after an exhausting afternoon at the flower market deep in the western suburbs of Sydney and fitting out a garden. i lay in bed sifting through work emails. i heard the Elk giggling in living room. then laughter. then shock. "oh!" he'd gasp. offended. how cute. it's refreshing to see an irishman express a personal emotion. 

Sinéad O'Connor - WAR - SNL - Watch today’s top amazing videos here

he stormed into the bedroom and stood in the doorway. dressed in only trackydaks (tracksuit pants) his lips shrivelled up in anger as he puffed his chest out. "i never said 'she looks like a hot mess'!" 

oh you've been reading this blog. "yes you did. jiggly calente was waddling down the runway and you said 'she looks like a hot mess'"

"well she did look like a hot mess!" he sucked in a deep breath and puffed his chest up defiantly. i know he wanted to look tough and threatening but he just looked adorable with that little thatch of silver hair in the middle of his chest blowing the steam shooting down from his snout. "and when did i say 'ooh my muffins are burning'!?!"

"last week, when you got up early and started baking some blueberry and some egg and bacon muffins. i crawled out of bed and started molesting you in the kitchen. you sniffed something and then you jumped away from me screaming 'ooh my muffins are burning!"

"i was trying something new! i didn't want them to be ruined!" he was fully aware of the ridiculousness of the argument. "are we boring? are we a boring couple now?"

"i'm boring." it's true. i am a really boring person. i just throw myself into disastrous situations just to see what happens and give the impression i'm interesting and live an exciting life. "i like being boring. i'm really happy how we are right now." but maybe he isn't happy. i want him to be happy. "you wanna do something?"

"yeah," but he seemed unconvinced. like he thinks we think we should be doing something exciting. "got any K?" his beady little shark eyes beamed. "let go get fucked up. we got any drugs?"

"none. long gone." speaking of disastrous situations, one just presented itself. "you want to do a job? you and me? tonight?"

"together?"

"yeah. there'll be drugs."

we discussed the idea of working together a long time ago. i was for it. the Elk was against it. he gave up sex work long ago. he's more confident doing massage. my clients have said he's amazing and how hot he is before they even realised we were mates. he was against joining forces because he didn't think it would work. years ago, the Elk was kind of dating another escort and it appeared on his ad that they were working together (yet, it turns out they never actually did any jobs together). i admit i was a little offended that he trusted him but not me, though i suspect he was also worried about my reaction. it's understandable. i too was worried about my reaction. generally the Elk is calm, mature and rational. most of the time I'm erratic, reactionary and irrational. a little rubs off on the other and we seem to balance each other out. this would be a good opportunity for me to grow up right?

it's bound to happen. in the death rattles of most homo relationships they end up becoming open relationships. that move either strengthens the relationship, or most of the time you watch that guy you both drunkenly picked up hammer the last nail into the coffin driving the relationship faster to it's inevitable grave. it's a little early, and i do not want an open relationship, but should i learn to deal with this now?

this client i have known for years. he has seen us both independently. the Elk once. me on many occasions, even though i am younger than he likes. this client prefers guys 40+. he's a great guy. he's great to deal with. the job is usually fairly easy and he pays very well. i also knew he has a thing for the Elk and his salt and peppery fur. i'd definitely score the job if i brought him along and he'd shower us both with coke. plus i was bargaining the whole situation. i was in control.

the Elk agrees. partly for the cash. partly knowing it will be easy. and i suspect partly because he fears we really are becoming a boring couple of lesbians

the job is only two blocks from our apartment. after a a beer and a line we get down to business. it was great fun working with him. it was so much easier having him there. plus the bonus of watching him be a dirty little whore, grinding his arse up in the air was damn sexy to watch. i wasn't intimidated. i could tell he was playing it up for the client, but fuck it was hot to watch. 

i fucked up though. i should never touch coke on a job. it was well over an hour but my viagra still hadn't kicked in and the coke just sent my willy soft. the Elk made it hard, but the situation quickly killed it again. 

unable to perform, the client then fucked the Elk in front of me. then i realised one thing. i didn't like watching someone else fuck my boyfriend. i don't like knowing someone else fucked my boyfriend. everything else i could handle. i could deal just fine if he was escorting as well, but not if he bottoms. there is a huge double standard here when it comes to what i do for work. i have a lot of growing up to do

it may be possessive. it may be immature and controlling. but that ass is mine. and in that regard, i don't see those traits as a bad thing. i don't think i need to be so free and open that i should have to share everything. 

i didn't like watching someone else fuck him. but i loved watching him getting fucked. that boy sure can take a dick!

so, yeah. we ain't a pair of miserable fucking homos who've settled down with our set of retro Le Crueset cookware into a boring married couple. boring married couples don't strap on boots and have guys watch them eat half a gram of coke out of each other's arses at 10 o'clock on a sunday night. (i got that shit everywhere too. my whole damn face was numb!) i also learned i'm more comfortable in weird situations with someone i'm comfortable with. 

i'm just not comfortable watching someone else fuck his arse yet… well… i wasn't. i wasn't comfortable until we got home and we bothered to count the cash - he paid us triple. each!

"on second thought i think i can handle watching a guy fuck you ...if he pays triple." on one hand i feel bad because, in the end, he did most of the work (pun intended). on the other hand i'm riding high because i scored the job and whored his little manpussy out like his motherfucking pimp

sex worker problems - hair

for chicks, maybe

for dudes, the more hair i have the more work i get

except that one client who asked me to shave my arse if i wanted the job. i told him to go to hell. i don't want no itchy cactus ass. walking around town for the next month with regrowth spiking through my jocks like some goddamn chia pet. there's a gay sushi train of schick chicks out there. hire one of their smooth arses

how was your day?

cuddling in bed, i pulled the Elk in close. his back to my chest, his head curled up into my neck like a kitten. his antlers gently rubbing my beard. it was a beautiful scene. tender and touching. sensual and erotic in that acidic-vomit-creeping-up-your-throat filthy homo way. then he asked me about my day

"how was work?"

i took a deep breath. "he. shat. everywhere."

"what?" 

"he shat. everywhere. he shitted everywhere."

"oh,"

"in every room of this apartment."

"oh," the Elk feigned a little empathy. and although he faced the other way i could feel his belly laughing. 

"don't you fucking laugh at me."

"is that what the job was meant to be?"

"No!" it was no scat job. at least, it wasn't intended to be. was it? "he shat in one room. i moved him to the next then he would shit again. i moved him to the next… and… his legs in the air and it was like the mincer just ran out of sausage skins but that wet meat just kept grinding out." it was like a cement mixer of filth pouring shit out his arse every time he breathed. "i wrapped a  towel around him and shuffled him in here. he showered while i frantically ran around opening up all the windows."

in sex work, you think every day is like a porno? trust me. it's no goddamn porno. i'm a glorified nurse! wiping their arse with one hand while keeping my cock hard with the other! a sexy nurse. a well paid sexy nurse.

this client was fine. he was actually a really nice guy so i didn't mind so much. it was an accident. a really gross reoccurring smelly accident, but an accident all the same. another client who inadvertently took me on a trip through willy wonka's chocolate factory had the nerve to brush it off saying "oh well workplace hazard." i immediately jumped up, and not because i won no damn golden ticket. years ago, i pulled out of another client and it was like i just removed my finger from the only crack in a chocolate hoover damn. in slo-mo matrix bullet time i saw an explosion of liquid feces reaching out for me. i lept metres backwards to watch it splash at my feet and seep into the carpet. the only thing more shocking than a kamikaze turd lying on my bedroom floor was the client still on his back holding his legs in the air waiting, expecting me to continue

"well? did you keep going?"

"of course i did. I'm a fucking trouper!"

(have to believe we are) magic - three

this has been my favourite request all month. and though i've done some really odd and strange requests purely for the adventure, i explained why this time i was hesitant to try and find someone i've never met before on a train carriage at 7:46am. 

really it was the 7am start that turned me off. i can't talk in complete sentences until noon

unfortunately he didn't find my joke about the monorail very funny and never heard back from him

guest submission from the Elk

...yes i am

mix tape - sex

not every job is all doom and gloom and shit stains on my carpet. if it was i sure as fuck wouldn't be doing it. if i was some useless whore there is no way i could make a living out of this. word travels quick. clients talk. if you're a dud fuck you'll be out of business in no time

i got a good reputation. i got excellent reviews online. i enjoy my job. 90% of the work i get is great. most of my clients are pretty good. the disasters and misadventures i put on this blog are just a hell of a lot more entertaining for people to read. who the fuck wants to read about a guy who's the hero of all his stories? sure sometimes i've become the McGuyver of the sex industry, saving the day by using a sock and an electrical cord to bound and gag a client at a moment notice. it's just the anti-hero is more interesting

a few weeks back i had possibly one of the best jobs ever. nothing amazing. just memorable for one very simple reason.

i rocked up to a little apartment in the innerwest of Sydney. nice enough guy. i sit down on his sofa while he goes to the kitchen to get us a drink. it's tough in these situations, you sit and wait and try not to analyse the fuck out of someone by their furnishings, music and dvd collection. what struck me was the music he was playing. i knew what was playing and i loved it

one of the toughest things i find about doing outcalls and going to a clients home is not their decor and looks-like-nanna-just-died couches. it's not the pictures of family littering the walls, their dead eyes grinning while i stab my cock into their uncle (or sometimes father's) shit hole. it's not the fact that they're clearly spending more on me in an hour than they pay for a whole week to rent the shitbox studio apartment they live in.

it's the music. dear god, the music.

sometimes it starts with good intentions and non-offensive club music, then toward the end of a session the 5-stacker CD player suddenly switches to opera. i've had club mixes of the song from Titanic and the Brokeback Mountain theme (that i didn't recognise, but the client pointed it out). Hed Kandi, ministry of sound and god-awful local dj mix cds. thankfully, a lot of the time it's just the soundtrack to the porn playing or it's something i can tune out. sometimes it's impossible. one guy had the best of Sting playing. you know how difficult it is to maintain an erection, fucking someone up the arse with their pointy leather cowboy boots over your shoulder, yelling your name over and over along to Sting singing how earnestly the Russians love their children too?

so when i sat down in this little innerwest apartment. heard this beautiful track playing. i settle right into the cushions of the sofa with a huge grin on my face. the guy walked back into the room with our drinks and the first thing i said was: "this is The Necks, yeah?"





he was stunned. "wow! well spotted!" he almost forgot to hand me my drink. we chatted a bit. had a fucking great time. after we were done i hung around for almost another hour just chatting. awesome guy.  turns out i was his present to himself for 10years of damn hard work.

if you're ever gonna have sex - the music is important. it's what is going to cover up any awkward silence. it's what you are gonna hear underneath all the dirty talk and filthy sounds of wet slapping genitals.

it's super important. make sure it's good. you can't go wrong with the Necks

(have to believe we are) magic - two

"i have a fantasy. i want be sitting down, watching porn, wanking and have a stranger walk in on me and take charge use me.

by the way, my place is unavailable. can we do this at yours?"

hmm… ok. i've done 'home invasion' rape scenes before. lots of them. i quite enjoy them. i think i bone up alone on the though of someone leaving their front door open and fleecing them for everything in their home. sometimes they're even already tied up. i've never robbed them. i just get off on the temptation. i'm sure they do as well

so, with this fantasy, first i have to buzz you into my apartment. let you in the from door. somehow teach you how to operate the HD attached to my tv, access the porn and play it OR have porn already running, find something to do for a few minutes in my not-very-big one bedroom apartment. something that gives you enough time to sit back, relax, whip your tackle out and start flogging so i can come back and looked all surprised and angry and shit. then a sate of rage and uncontrollable friskiness throw you around, rape your face and your ass

hmm….

ok. how about i prepare the str8 porn. buzz you in. leave the door open. you let yourself in. i take a shower and that gives you enough time to get yourself in the mood then i come out all guns blazing?

he had been glued on this idea for a few weeks. i figured how it could work and eventually, after a few too many exchanges of texts, he got it

i set up the porn. i buzz him in. the front door is wedged open with a shoe. i can see all this from the bathroom so nothing dodgy can happen. he comes in and sits down and gets ready. i start the shower and get in. it seems like the scene will run smoothly the way then he walks into the bathroom, "i need to use your toilet."

"what the-?" i ask. after all the fucking around, "this kind of ruins the surprise."

he starts pissing. he is stoned. "you know, best laid plans and such…"

"are you fucking serious?" i get in the shower a little pissed off. i understand the fantasy thing, but explaining how it would work took so much freaking time! he goes back to watching porn. i shower. when i can see over his shoulder he's ready i creep up behind him, grab him by the hair, pull his head to the side and rape his face. 

"what the fuck are you doing? walk into to my fucking house and start jerking off to my fucking porn you filthy little faggot!" i'm a little pissed off at him for fucking up the scene so abusing him is really easy. 'choke on it, cocksucker!" he's gagging and fighting me off. i'm pretty loud, maybe a bit too loud, but every now and then i hear keys jangling but there's no one in the apartment. 

"fucking choke on it!" smacking him across the face. that nice loud rich sound of slapping your open palm across someone's face with a bit of spit on it makes it so crisp and loud. sounds worse than it feels. speaking of sounds, i hear footsteps. why do i hear footsteps? there is no one else in the apartment

he's still fighting me off quite convincingly, i still on his face face and slam 3 fingers up his arse. he screams. "eat my arse. clean out  my fucking dirty hole! shit-eating fag!" i still hear footsteps and keys. it's been a few minutes now. i look at the front door and notice my boot is still wedged in the door to hold it open. the front door is open. 

i get off the guys face. "you left the front door open! you didn't close it after you came in!"

he looks up at me stunned, "oh."

my neighbour is out in the hallway. he has been there for a while now listening to me yell at some faggot, smacking him around and demanding he eat my shit

baby, this is the stuff dreams are made of

magic - one

people have dreams. you gotta want something. we're here to make those dreams come true

this fellow's request was one i quite liked. simple, yet slutty. domestic and dirty. attainable and memorable.

and most important of all - easy

mind you it wasn't easy. i had to clean the fucking kitchen first. it's not all that sexy to be writhing about with a tongue up your arse, flailing your arms in the throws of passion knocking dirty dishes and saucepans. half eaten chops and bacon rinds slapping ont he floor. 

not only did i clean the kitchen, but the boyfriend in his hippy state bought half an organic free range cow online. chopped up into bits and stuffed in the freezer he spent the following week boiling it down into stock and separating the tallow for cooking

so there i am. bent over. face down. arse up on the kitchen bench. presenting.

all the fresh air, incense and spray'n'wipe in world couldn't get rid of the sickly stench of tallow that seemed to be clinging to the walls of the apartment. still, the door creaks open. i hear him crack open the bottle of amyl i laid out for him. he takes a deep breath. he doesn't notice a thing because i feel a tongue snake it's way into my hole and the magic begins

come take my hand

you should know me

i've always been in your mind

you'll know i'll be kind

i'll be guiding you

have to believe we are magic

if only she asked us whores to find her 'missing' husband....

everybody needs good neighbours

this is pretty common in the texts a manwhore receives. guys sending pix of their cock. in the early years of working you entertain them and sometimes find it quite refreshing to pick up your phone and see a knob end winking at you. though i can safely say i have never been tempted by any of the cock pix sent to me. i have never thought, "fuck yeah! come on over! get that fucker in my gob now!"

you have a few options:

- you can choose to ignore it and maybe they will go away

- you can respond and tell them to fuck off

- you can respond and try to coerce them into coughing up cash if they want to go further. but if they're sending cock pix, more than likely they think you will be so impressed with their manhood that it will swoon you into offering a freebie or a hefty discount

it was a lazy afternoon. i was laying in bed, the Elk was asleep on my chest but i was wide awake. horny as fuck, do i wake him or do i take the sensible option and use my boner to score some work and some cash?

that means 'i'm here to wank and waste your time'. he could have only got my number from the online adverts. there's a shizload of cockshots there for him to see

30 metres from my flat? how the fuck does he know where i live? 

i turn on grindr. sure enough there's some messages from a guy 30 metres away. judging by the cock pix sent he possibly the same body shape. i don't use the same pictures on my commercial and non-commercial sites so i assume he's paid close attention

he's so damn close i'm not gonna let him into my house. also, as cute as it is watching him drool his sleepy snoozy warm spit dribbling onto my chest, i sure as fuck am not gonna kick my boyfriend out of bed to make some cash

"i'm very good looking" = i want sex for free

oh you have a boyfriend too? if you're so happy, go fuck him. i don't care about your fucking relationship problems. the conversation is annoying me already, but i could always do with some new pictures for work

i checkout his website. it has two pictures of a dog and a flower. nothing added since 2006. 

no. you're not. not doubt you will bother me again thinking i have nothing better to do than swap cock pix

sure enough, half an hour later...

fucking woeful pictures. how does one respond? a fortune cookie once wisely said  - silence will be your best response

(i've since noticed i looked at the wrong site. he has around 15 pictures. they're ok but none of which are all that special)

by now the Elk has awoken from his afternoon snooze. his massage table is still set up in the living room. i shuck my pants down around my knees, pull my cock out and jump up on the massage table. "where's my... ahem... massage...?" the Elk laughs, shuffles over, and despite the blinds being wide open and many apartments being able to look into ours, he indulges my childishness and gives my cock a few tugs. he then looks up and notices we are being watched by a neighbour. 

"ooh, someone's watching," 

we both laugh. i get up and begin to fold up the massage table. before the table is put away my phone gets a text. an instant later another text. then another. and another....

the guy on the balcony watching us was the guy texting me earlier. messaging me on grindr. in fact, he's been watching us have breakfast out on the balcony every day for the past month. he's not just a neighbour.  he's the neighbour that can see everything we do. the cunt has been watching us for quite some time. 

now it's possible he's a stalker

i've had stalkers before. when dealing with them i find it's best to play it cool

i ignore him. then comes more texts. and more texts. and more fucking texts

yeah i understand my phone number is out there for anyone to contact. as opposed to any normal business, my number will attract some freaks and nutcases more so than say a plumber or an IT consultant. but when someone says, 'no thanks' and that person is your neighbour, wouldn't you just let it go?

i think most people would. some clients don't take rejection very well. they take rejection from a whore personally. i guess they see it as 'fuck! i can't even pay the son of a bitch to fuck me!" when really it's many reasons along the lines of 'i don't want to', 'i'm not sexually compatable for that specific scene', but most of the time it's because  'it's 4am. i'm tired and just not horny right now, you fucking idiot!"

no matter how polite you are, you just get abuse. so if i can be fucked responding i can't be fucked being polite and want them to be as pissed off as they pissed me off

a month later...

not only does he send the message on grindr, but also notice how many messages he sends in the space of a minute. 

eventually he figures out that when in the top corner of my grindr profile it says "online 30 minutes ago" that means i have not been online for 30 minutes and i have not read any of those messages he has sent and he's better off contacting me by phone

i pass him on to the Elk. he takes the job. i head off to the gym while the Elk gives him a massage. he is a tolerant little bugger. i don't know how he does it. he lay him down and worked him into a frenzy. sprayed everywhere i hear. after they were done and the Elk was mopping up our neighbour decided to chat

"i have a woman back in spain who massages me for free," he asserted his studliness, "i never pay for massage."

"well... does she wank you off as well as i do?"

the Elk said he was fine, but his tolerance levels are pretty darn high - he tolerates me for fuck's sake. i just go by the rule if they annoy me on the phone it's likely they will be even more annoying in person

we head over to a mate's BBQ. watching 4 drunk fags try to light a fire i entertaining enough, then the Elk gets a text from the neighbour. i don't remember it exactly but it went a little something like this: "that was good but i do not think that we were alone."

our neighbour believes i was hiding in the other room during the whole massage. why? who knows. let him beleive what he wants to believe

ok. he's a fucking nutcase

weeks pass and soon i hear from him again

 

he knows what i charge. 

he knows i don't want to do it. 

he sure as fuck knows i won't drop my price regardless of what he wants to do

also, he can see into our apartment and knows when we have not been home all day and when we are at work. 

then the next day....

none of your fucking business, you nosey little cunt! go get a fucking job and stop looking into my apartment all fucking day. while your at it, tell that lazy bitch in the apartment next to you to get a job also. she does nothing but sit in her ass smoking fags and drinking red wine all fucking day. ever since she moved in with her personal trainer boyfriend she's done nothing but make him get fat and fill the apartment with shitty plants and pissy decor

i'd be delighted to find out she's a whore too. i hope so anyway. she must do something to grant all that spare time she has

and the next day...

he doesn't understand 'no' so maybe i can just deter him. i mean, we live in a suburb with an extremely high concentration of homsexuals. he's not a bad looking guy. as you can see, he's got a decent cock too. so surely he would have found someone else to wank off with by now...

but the next day....

i'm flattered that you think i'm so hot that you continue like this.... but never. fucking never

jesus titty fucking christ you persistant little cunt! 

i snap. politely

yes, you only wanted to offer your money which is less than a quarter of what everyone else pays for my small cock that you've wanted so badly for the past 3 months

when someone says no. they mean no. leave them alone and in particular, leave your neighbours alone. 

apocalyptic realness

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liz lemon - world's worst hooker

Gosford - City of the Damned (feat. lil $hmyl)

as you get older, generally, music just seems less inspired. new music seems more manufactured and you become more cynical of modern artists.

take Swedish House Mafia - a piss-poor-pop imitation of Pendulum (who have become a piss-poor-pop imitation of themselves). does anyone really like them? they had one track, the forgettable one with the cute video where all the dogs are fighting criminals in slow-mo, and suddenly they were top billed for every festival in the last 6 months. manufacturing the success of the next wave of musical whores

also as she was climbing her way through the music industry ladder, i don't know who Lana Del Ray didn't let fuck her in the ass to warrant the barrage of negative reviews for her album Born To Die. sure it's not a great album, but it's not that bad. it's just outdated. it would have been a hit 10 years ago

now a new video is about has arisen and starting to go viral. it's awful. truly fucking awful. a teenage hip-hop 'sensation' straight outta East Gosford. why does this hardcore gansta's track speak to me? because Gosford is where i grew up

don't fuck with Shmyl (feat. some fat kid) - lil $hmyl

East Gosford is hardly South Central. it's hardly anything. it's the 'burbs. the stinking boring suburbs. it's not gansta. it's not even a tough neighbourhood. it's actually quite a pleasant area to raise a family. as you can see in the video it has a shopping centre, a skate park for the youths, traffic islands and speed limits up to a raging 40kms an hour. it's just dull and full of obese bogan douchbags

having gypsy parents on the run from debt collectors meant me and my older sisters had the luxury of moving to a new house in a suburb and going to a new school almost every 6 months. one of those school was East Gosford Primary School. it was hardly crime riddled. no one was trying to bust-a-cap in my 6 year old ass. in fact, it was one of the finer schools i went to in the 1980s. i few memories of the place and the ones i have are quite pleasant if not frightfully dull. 

i remember cueing at the canteen during little lunch to use whatever small change i mustered that week to buy a chocolate milk. i remember the easter parade and my easter bonnet made of out card, sticky tape and crepe paper that sucked balls. i remember dress as your favourite book character day - being accident prone and destroying everything i touch it made sense i dress as Mr Bump (being poor it was also a cheap easy costume to make. a blue tracksuit and a few bandages around my head)

oh, and once i was almost hit by a car crossing the road

my most audacious memory is the in year one and learning about syllables. individually the children in my class would pick a word written on the blackboard and divide it in to syllables. one girl chose the word "class"

"cl," she paused, "ass."

"ha!" snot flew out of my nose and i exploded into a sniggering mess

for disrupting the cl-ass, the teacher shouted at me, "what is so funny!?!"

the teacher knew damn well what was so funny. but i couldn't stop laughing and ordered to leave the cl-ass-room and sit outside on the steps. in the sunshine and fresh air like that was some sort of punishment

friends own a house in East Gosford. i've been there many time since. it's not hardcore. even in the video you can see this oppressive urban landscape which has twisted these poor souls into the hardened criminals they are today has quite a pretty tree-covered landscape in the background. Rumbala reserve is quite beautiful as you can see here

clearly the next East Gossy Posse waiting to be discovered once they stop prancing around like S Club 7 and build up some street cred

yet, if it's such a lovely area, look at what i grew up to be - a drug-taking dole-bludging unshaven filthy inner-city homosexual manwhore

here's is $hyml's tender love ballad. sprinkled with timeless rhymes, pure poetry delivered with the skill and finesse of a man suffering acute brain damage :

"i'll touch your tit and rub your clit

you'll scream my name coz i got game"

"i'll lick your pussy because i like the taste

but after i done i'll need some toothpaste..."

though i'm confused by the rhyme:

"lil shmyl is known as a thug

but he likes a butt plug"

fuck Die Antwoord and their subversive self-awareness - lil $hmyl is the shit!

Kurt Cobain

while we're swimming in the dead pool, Kurt also went out with a bang 18 years ago today.

that's over half my life ago. feel old now? yeah a little bit...

Kenny Everett

Kenny Everett dies 17 years ago yesterday.

he had a huge influence on my sense of humour - shameless and with tits. used to love watching Kenny Everett's Video Show, possibly not as much as my mum who had the leave the living room many times because she was laughing so hard she was going to wet herself



a tense little argument with a young Sinead O'Connor. do comedians, singers, artist and entertainers have a duty to stand up for their political ideals or should the monkey just dance for our enjoyment and leave politics to people better equipped for it?

sexual racism continued

here's a great article on Sexual Racism in the homo community published last week

race based attraction


written by Benjamin Law, this tells the point of view from an asian aussie. it also mention Gilbert,  a guy i met a few years ago through a friend. it's a shame he's not quoted more. he has some damn funny things to say

yes, it's already been established in two previous posts/rants that i'm a sexual racist because i'm generally not attracted to asian guys (except some hot japanese muscle bears and Murofushi Koji, that Olympic hammer thrower... phwooarrr...).
read the comments below the article. it's interesting to hear straight people discuss the issue instead the usual bleeding-heart homos who's opinion seems solely based on their own rejection issues

meanwhile, here's some pics of Murofushi

look at them there thighs