my transsexual summer

one of the best damn shows around. it's hilarious and affectionate. Channel 4 disables imbedding so watch the trailer here

it's aired last year in the UK but is just airing on ABC2 in Australia friday nights 9:30pm. or pirate bay it here

tumblr questions

from howtosucceedinwhoring.tumblr.com 

more pix and weirder stuff there from some other fantastic blogs

a half-arsed disclaimer. 

but if anyone is stupid enough to make the same mistakes i do, it's their own damn fault

*edit - Oct 2012*

wait. no. that's not the only reason.

because the title is a joke. it's how not to succeed in business. how not to make friends and influence people. this blog is about what not to do. 

the (without really trying) is playing on the polarised beliefs people have about sex workers. some think it's grim and nasty and people are forced into the occupation. others think it's an easy occupation for the lazy sons of bitches whocouldn't be bother do little more than laying back with their legs i the air and taking a cock

if you want to be a success. there are tips and tricks written here. i could write about all my awesome clients (most of them) that are a lot of fun to meet up with. i could write about all the successful job that went along just perfectly, but that would be fucking boring for you to read and for me to write. 

which is more interesting to read, the dinner date and sex that went according to plan? or  when roughly playing the dominate daddy for the guy who shat on my floor and i had to quickly switch to the role of the geriatric nurse following behind him with a towel between his legs as he hobbled across the carpet to the bathroom?

i don't about you, but i want to read the non-glamourise embarrassing poop story

so this is my tragic mistakes. every wrong move. every dumb choice every unintentional (and sometimes intentional) fuck up

no doubt people will be horrified by the horrible honesty here. people who discovered they were written about were offended and the posts removed. but i'm far from the hero of all my stories. i am the fool here, forever stumbling through awkward situations finding the humour in the horror

don't do what i do and you might just succeed

best ad ever. period

call:

response:

nothing but Krud

i checked his twitter immediately and there was no sign of this actual post :(

silver screen shower scene

last days of Sydney - final job (better than a 10" dick)

i lay on the cool tiled floor of the laundry, the whirring white noise of the clothes dryer soothing me in to a most relaxed state as if Enya herself mainveined a mouthful of mogadons and lay moaning a chorus of madrigals into my ear. i had vague thoughts about the job i had in a few hours. it was to be my final job before flying to europe. a 3-way with a client and a touring hooker built like a Applecrumble&Fitch model and his 10" dick. the calm was broken when the client sent one more text - the address of the hotel room where we would meet and a small note "you will get an extra tip if you open your ass for both of us"

you what now?

you want me to bottom? for BOTH of you!?! that about 18" inches of cock all up…  all up in my ass! oh, hell no! hell no! 

now don't get me wrong, i love have my fudge packed as much as the next homo and i will tear your goddamned head off if you don't do it right. but i have to WANT it. 

at work, when it's a mechanical performance, i rarely want it. even when the guy is hot as fuck - his pix are all over tumblr so i know he's hot, you know, if you like that tall muscled hairy chested tattooed chiseled features look. it's going to take me a good hour to ease ass-first down on that traffic cone of a cock.

i am the first to admit that i am a terrible bottom.

i know the client gets off on watching my face contort in agony, probably a little more than i get off on knowing he gets off watching my face contort in agony. if that's true, then he will get quite the show tonight

i bolt up off the floor. i panic a little. then i have a beer. then i suck as much of the dregs i can find lurking in the crack pipe  - if anything will loosen me up, that will. then jump on my bike and make my way over. 

i get there early and wait. parked in the same spot of Springfield Avenue where years earlier, as a removalist, i had moved the neighbour of Johnnie Cass from the first season of Big Brother Australia. he was openly gay and demonised as a two-faced villain though he was guilty of nothing more than being a typically insipid personal trainer-cum-lifecoach Eastern Suburbs homosexual. Johnnie seemed to take a shine to the Irish backpacker and I in our skimpy king gee shorts and worn wifebeaters.



everywhere we went he was there, reconstituting out of every shadow, watching us strain and lift and squat chunky heavy wooden furniture all the while proclaiming loudly into his mobile "tell Janice i will be happy to accept that tv presenters role," convincing no one that he was actually on a real phone call. 

are you not receiving as much as you would like? take it from an expert and take it like an expert. no one can show you how to receive quite like a sydney 'mo can

a few moments later the client arrived. we talked a bit and head towards the apartment of the 10" dick when a message came through from his boyfriend saying the 10" was sick and unable to make the appointment. 

for the first time in hours my arsehole relaxed. 

sure i didn't get to fuck the hot guy, but i did earn my hourly rate. plus the other guy's hourly rate as my tip. plus the intended tip as an additional tip.

i received. i received it all

got milk?