As noted previously, I used to get a kick out of the tranny vernacular when I sold ads in that subculture. I mean…to call women “fish” was just so rude and to the point. “You better work, showgirl,” was another that tickled my funny bone. Didn’t matter how “passable” or attractive a “girl” was, you were a chick with a dick? You were by definition…a “showgirl.”
Another word I found entertaining was “spookable,” a term which defined just how hidden a “girl’s” original gender was at a venue where she was trying to pass as born female. Believe it or not, the pursuit of unspookability is high art in the transgendered world. Trannies don’t want a gay boyfriend. They prefer straight guys and as a result, like to go out on the town…attract a “straight” man…and then “turn” him. Meaning, he gets so hot and horny for the “girl” that the moment of revelation becomes irrelevant. As in…”You got a dick? Whatever! Let’s get it on!” Generally, the activity begins with a blow job. And if the tranny is lucky, she can get him to progress. Continue Reading
The other day I ran into the same girl who’d called me “white boy” during a pretend robbery (see entry a few weeks back)…only to have her greet me with the old “What’s up, my n—ah?” (Apparently, my complexion must have appeared darker that day.) She went on: “I heard you datin’ that girl from the party. I didn’t know you liked squares.”
Well, it turns out that the girl from the party actually isn’t a square (or wasn’t) after all. And because I’m friendly with her cousin who already told me she used to sell ass – and she doesn’t want me to know about it (and she smokes cigarettes) – I passed. Whores are good at chicanery. I’m not! But that’s not what today’s entry is about.
Getting called the dreaded “n” word affected me not. Funny thing about that. When a black person calls a white friend n—ah…this is the ultimate compliment. The other way around? Not so much! Continue Reading
On any given night thirty years ago, if you didn’t see me driving a cab, you’d find me at either of two infamous local dives THE VILLAGE IDIOT or DOWNTOWN BEIRUT…drinking, mingling, and of course…trying to get laid. Granted, it was a meaningless existence but as they say…it was what it was. I make no excuses.
So one night at closing time, I invited a party of three guys and two girls back to my crib. I know…not that bright. But one of the ladies had my attention. You know the rest. Now all types of societal misfits hung out at either of those bars…especially at Beirut which was a punk rock pit that attracted alternative individuals some of whom were dommes and lap dancers. I can’t remember how I knew…but the girl I wanted was a lap dancer. Continue Reading
Like with musical recordings, you never quite know which film will be a hit – and which will flop. Remember “Waterworld,” Kevin Costner’s blockbuster? Huge bomb. Or “Smokey and the Bandit?” Incredible low-budget piece of crap yet a monster hit.
So last night while perusing the new Netflix additions, I found something called “SEX DOLL,” yet another expose about prostitutes. At this point, I don’t think there are any layers to peal back when it comes to the world’s most fascinating (yawn) profession. And if there are, this almost straight-to-Netflix lead balloon surely didn’t reveal any. But that doesn’t mean the film is without merit.
As y’all know, I’m a big fan of wide open spaces – which leaves me shit out of luck given where I live. Still, if I can’t get to the country, there are a couple of places I can go in the metropolitan area that almost feel like being in the country. And one of those places (actually two) are in Staten Island. Yesterday (what with being a beautiful day), I decided a ride on the boat to IKEA would be fun. But when I got there, the length of the line was just too prohibitive…so I mozied south to the ferry where you never get turned away and asked to wait for the next ride.
My newest bucolic spot is almost under (but not quite) the Verrazano Bridge where there’s some sort of military installation, a scenic lookout, and a little road which goes into a forest. My routine is to score a 24 oz can of Keystone Ice, ride to the forest, and sit my ass down for 30 minutes or so as I fantasize I’m someplace that’s real country. Continue Reading
That milquetoast slab of meat AL GORE is at it again. He has yet another movie about the environment (snore) coming out in August and was featured on CBS Sunday Morning just a few hours ago. When are all these doomsday climate change morons gonna get over it? Climate change, my ass. As if!
I’m kidding of course. Al Gore will be known as one of the 20th and 21st centuries’ most significant and influential men. Watching him speak this morning, I could only ponder the American electorate’s preposterous decision to vote DUBYA into office rather than the thoughtful and intelligent visionary Al Gore surely is. Continue Reading
So I was taking pictures of a ’round the way escort the other day. And when I use that expression, I mean a regular neighborhood girl with sass and attitude. This particular individual boasted more than her share of physical blessings – but wasn’t model perfect. Legs a little skinny…belly not quite ripped…but a big, natural chest and a phat booty she continued to twerk in the mirror to get herself psyched up for the shoot. All things considered on the “go or no” continuum, she was a definite “go” in my book. At least physically.
Unfortunately, her personality was a little lacking. Which is to say, she was a major diva/pain-in-the-ass. Her dress wasn’t right…her nails weren’t right…the time of the month wasn’t right. You get the idea. All of this phased me not until out came the deal breaker word: the boyfriend. Continue Reading
Many years ago I arrived at a Village Voice advertiser’s apartment to meet with a verbal fusillade describing a customer who had exited just minutes before. To her colleague sitting on the couch, the girl let go: “That fucking asshole was no lawyer. He was a dirty, nasty, disgusting trick!” It didn’t end there as y’all can imagine. Working girls tend to say the same thing ten times before they’re done. I’ll spare you chapters 2 – 10. Once she had more or less exhausted herself, I took the initiative by giving the girls a quick lesson in bull shit detection they could utilize in the future to out the liars. And it went something like this: Continue Reading
I have a confession to make. My bachelor cooking skills are a tad lacking. And that’s being generous. I can’t cook for shit. Except a cheese omelette. That I got down.
Anyway…you’ll recall from a few days ago I bragged about being an excellent mop man, toilet cleaner and dishwasher. And now you can add one more skill to the set I own thanks to volunteering.
It’s always been a personal cause for concern that my Saturday volunteer location (the boss doesn’t want me to mention the name on this dirty blog) boasts tuna salad makers who can turn the lowest of chunk light industrial packets of the species into a delicious tuna salad. Me? I buy Bumble bee solid white – big spender that I am – and somehow, the soup kitchen’s product exceeds mine despite my superior basic ingredient. But I’ve been watching and learning. And yesterday I was put to the test. Continue Reading
Oy! Fucking bugs! And I’m not talking about software or the kind that harass you on a hike. I’m talkin’ the incredibly adaptive critters that hide in your stove and cabinets. Yes, it’s great to have the lowest rent in the building. But along with that comes an apartment that hasn’t been renovated for like…ever! And you know what that means! Roaches inhabit every nook and cranny.
I’ve used the Home Depot Ortho spray. And Combat traps. And Combat gel. And the powder. And the bomb. And even some doo-hickey you plug into a wall socket. All for naught, I’m afraid. The Battle of the Bugs is on, baby! And I’m losing it! Continue Reading
You would think that after losing 65% of your seized assets to the federal government – and then another big chunk to the state and city – that authorities would be satisfied with their take. Dream on brothers and sisters. The nightmare continues.
Normally when people receive a piece of correspondence from the IRS, they have a mild stroke. But for me, a letter from the agency is kind of like a kiss on the cheek versus a full-out GFE session, after what I will now and forevermore call “the visit” – the day two IRS agents knocked on my door to deliver the bad news! So when more than half a year ago, a letter appeared in my mailbox from the feared government arm, I more or less had an eye-rolling moment – and not the coronary most people experience until I saw the bill (727 k). Then I admit to a more visceral reaction. Continue Reading
I always wondered whether all the “intellectuals” who bought Playboy Magazine “for the articles” would still buy the rag if the cheesecake were deleted. Well, I don’t know what those numbers would be…but I do know 5 weeks after all the local girls were deleted from the sidebar of this blog how many readers have abandoned ship.
One week into the new era, I reported that fully 85% of readers had stayed. But that (to my chagrin) is no longer the case. I have lost roughly two thirds of my audience. Actually, I was hoping to retain half but still, I’m somewhat gratified that at least one in three readers is still with me.
So here’s the question: Now that the blog earns virtually nothing…why would I continue writing something almost every day? I guess the truth is that I’m not a whore after all. I don’t have to be paid to write because I simply like doing it. Hey! I rarely play my guitar for an audience yet I still sit and play every day (though not like I used to). Same thing, basically. Continue Reading
In the never ending quest to fill my waking hours (I sleep a lot) meaningfully, I’ve taken to launching a new project. Getting this enterprise started involved building a new blog which I’m proud to say took all of about an hour and a half. And that includes designing the header! Will the idea take off? Maybe…maybe not. Whatever…it was something to do yesterday.
Many years ago, a cute Amer-Asian girl needed some new photos and pursuant to that desire, asked me “Billy! Are you a photographer – or do you just take pictures?” to which I gave her what I thought was the perfect answer: “I take pictures – but I just might get that money-making shot the pro will miss.”
The state of Korean photography in the escort business is actually quite good. Too good, in fact. What happens is that guys arrive to be disappointed that the advertised photo is of the actual girl…but the actual girl doesn’t look nearly as good as her photo. So what’s the point of producing a photo that’s so good that it almost serves as the old bait and switch? Continue Reading
No, not the kind you see to the right. The kind I feed almost every day. Now calling a homeless person a bum is kind of politically incorrect – especially for a guy who’s supposed to care about their welfare. But I do have my limits…and they were reached yesterday.
Down at the good ol’ Catholic Worker, there are actually 21 upstairs beds occupied by a loose bucket of nuts and bolts (occupants, that is) many of whom are in good enough health to help at mealtime – but many of whom do not! They get free food and lodging and to thank the institution for its magnanimous contribution to the underclass they choose not to reciprocate. Continue Reading
For those unaware, BELL’S PALSY is an idiopathic affliction of the 7th cranial nerve which causes paralysis almost always on just one side of the patient’s face. The resultant droopy lop-sided look is generally not considered attractive. Nobody really knows (that’s why it’s called idiopathic) what causes the malady but strangely, sitting or sleeping directly in front of an air conditioner often triggers the unfortunate circumstance.
I relate this today because just recently I talked with two different women who suffered from the effects of this strange condition. The first was my 87 year-old girlfriend down at the Henry Street Settlement. This woman is as sweet as she is batty. Her spirit is wonderfully young and I just love when out of nowhere she’ll belt out a chorus of “She Loves You” by the Beatles! Last Sunday, I offered to show her some stuff on the computer at which time she told me about her cataracts and Bell’s palsy. Sixty seven ain’t that much fun. Eighty seven is even less – I’m guessing. Continue Reading
I think we can establish that I’m not much of a party animal or a huge drinker. At this point in my life, I mostly volunteer, read, and write. Kind of a snore, I know. But yesterday was Independence Day, the one time of the year we Americans celebrate the doctrine that all white men are created equal. (People of color and women? We’re still working on that. But I digress.) And so I broke with tradition and tied one on among friends.
Believe it or not…I was invited to a big backyard barbecue most of whose attendees are in “the business” (though not all). While I was happy to pedal on over (loner/recluse notwithstanding), it was something of what mom used to call a “command performance.” I missed Memorial Day as I was away…and the hostess made it clear she wanted me to show up for the July 4th fiesta. Continue Reading
Over the past year or so, y’all might have noticed that a few of the A-list Korean girls have seen the light and gone independent. Let me clarify that. They’ve gone independent of the house environment and now work alone in a sort of partnership with another Korean girl who answers the phone and arranges the dates. What’s paramount for the consumer is you and the object of your lifelong lust are alone with neither phone girl, kitchen mommie or other work-in-the-room ladies to misdirect your focus.
I view this as a good thing on balance – and would be even more in favor of the trend were I taking advertising payments from each girl rather than a group at the same price. It would be oh so much more profitable! But alas, I’m out of the business at the request of the authorities who do recognize my first amendment right – as well as their right to recommend that the judge lock me up and throw away the key if I don’t accede to their wishes. Thus…no house ads on the sidebar. Continue Reading
PRESIDENT DONALD TRUMP never fails to demonstrate beyond equivocation what a no class guy he truly is. But the Commander-in-chief just might have outdone himself yesterday after retweeting a 10 year-old but recently edited video which showed the prez taking down a WWE actor with a CNN logo plastered across his face (the recent edit/addition).
What nobody has commented upon (that I read) is that while Trump whines about CNN and its fake news, the video itself is of a fake takedown! Now let’s say the “presentation” featured a CNN employee alleging something along the lines of “Your wife sold ass in New York for $1000 a pop back in the 90’s” and Trump reacted by actually attacking the reporter. I could accept that (even if what the reporter said just might be true) as he was defending his wife’s honor. But clearly, that’s not what this is! Continue Reading
Anybody with an ounce of sense knows that you can’t buy love. You can buy time – and maybe even exclusivity. But love? It just ain’t for sale. Lots of guys fall for the objects of their lust – be they professional, amateur, or somewhere in between (like gold diggers and such). And some are even stupid enough to think that their feelings are being reciprocated.
Not everybody realizes the following reality…but if you really want to know where a guy stands with an escort, here’s the acid test: Examine the flow of money. If the girl is gouging her mark for excessive cash, she feels nothing for him. He’s just an ATM with a hard-on. Conversely, if a pro falls for a man, she’ll take her flatbacking cash and fork it over to the guy! I know this sounds ridiculous but trust me, I’ve seen it time and time again. Continue Reading
Whether in a Holiday Inn band or a multi-million unit-selling mega rock extravaganza, going on the road retains its unpredictability. Like with a cab shift during which anybody takes you anywhere on all manner of adventures, traveling with a musical outfit offers a similar experience.
Laboring as a full-time musician for more than ten years of my life, I certainly had my own. But the two potholes I’d like to talk about today befell others who despite their million-selling success, couldn’t avoid a shake-my-head engagement they could have lived without.
The year was 1998 or 1999 when I heard that two country western acts I really liked (LEANN WOMACK and THE KINLEYS) would be playing between the World Trade Centers Thursday at noon for the Wall Street workaday lunchtime crowd. As a guy who’d been on the road, I had to wonder “who the fuck booked a gig like that?!?! Only a promoter/manager who’d never played on the road himself!” Continue Reading
Back when I was making big money, I “serviced” most clients who wanted an ad regardless of how I felt about them. And when I had a full time job at Action Magazine, it was actually mandated that I accept all cummers! Hormone-torn trannies? Straight up pimps? Severe dommes? Gross-out man ho’s? Italian gangster types? Great American hoochie mamas? Euro skanks? Yes to all. That was my job.
One of my specialties was Colombianas from Queens. Given that the bosses and sales staff were all residents of Philadelphia and not bilingual, nobody was equipped to handle these accounts. I on the other hand, knew Queens well from driving a taxi (yes, I did go to Queens) and had 4 years of high school Spanish at least some of which I remembered. Thus, I was no stranger to the #7 train. Woodside? Jackson Heights? Corona? Flushing? I had clients in virtually every neighborhood on the “Rocker Ride.” Continue Reading
Can you believe it? I actually had escort “girlfriends” once upon a time! Polishing off this little uncultured pearl from the archives, I suddenly appreciate that I don’t anymore.
First of all…I absolutely hate the expression “at the end of the day” because it has to be the most overused phrase in the English language. People! Could you possibly come up with something synonymous? If I hear one more person say “at the end of the day,” I’m gonna shoot myself. Thus, I propose an alternative: “When it all comes out in the wash.” Much better.
Anyway…(another overused word), courtesy of one of my recent stinkers and her text messages, I came to an “end of the day”/”when it all comes out in the wash” moment last night I’d like to share today.
We all know that when escorts’ boyfriends and their professional counterparts (da goils) have a romantic union and then a breakup, he always tells her something along the lines of “you’re just a fucking whore anyway.” It never fails…trust me. But there’s another side to that coin. The girls have their own take on the situation. Continue Reading
Today…a fun repeat from a couple of years ago.
As I rapidly approach the traditional retirement age (65), I sit here this morning thinking back on how many “straight” gigs (ones for which I had to get up in the morning Monday to Friday) I’ve suffered through in my life. At one point in my early adulthood, I remember my mother observing that it was my life ambition to never have to get up in the morning. Ha ha! And whether that was true or not, an impartial bystander might agree with her given how few times I actually had employment that required I set an alarm clock.
Let’s see…besides those silly summer jobs I used to work during high school and college…there was that 8 weeks as a preschool teacher…6 weeks as a taxi top salesman…and one week at the Village Voice. And that’s it…unless you count my 3+ years at Action Magazine. But that wasn’t a job for which I needed to rise in the morning – except for 1 day a month. And on that day, I did endure multiple humiliations pursuant to my earning a legitimate paycheck. Ah…the sales meeting…Action style. Those were the days! Continue Reading
A couple of weeks ago I complained to an escort friend that it’s been a while since one of her colleagues developed feelings for me…and that it was getting really annoying! Ok! I’m 67 years old and don’t look a day over 66 but still…I ain’t dead yet. Seems like somebody ought to develop a hankering for ol’ Dollar Bill before I turn to dust. Well…I’m happy to report that the tide has turned. But it’s not with the escort crew…it’s a volunteer or two. Who’d-a-thunk?
So yesterday, I’m doing my usual Saturday thing down at the meat loaf giveaway. I walk in…say hi to most of the regulars (volunteers and guests) and head over to the pantry area which has a remarkable amount of food to be distributed…so much so that it will clearly be a nightmare for whoever gets the job running that scrum. Continue Reading
I’m an outspoken advocate of telling women how intelligent, beautiful and special they truly are. I’ll let them know they’re the prettiest I’ve ever been with – or they give the best sex – or they should audition for Jeopardy because they just know soooo much! And it’s all for a reason: to make them feel confident, comfortable and all-too-willing to let me have it my way! Girls are easy like that. Just a couple of timely compliments and their essence moistens…their legs involuntarily part…and the path is clear.
But there’s a downside to all that praise – especially when it comes to escorts. The problem is that I’m not the only effusive loser these girls meet. Lots of guys know to lay the compliments on thick to lubricate the cylinder in which they ease their piston. It’s all designed to make the engine purr like a kitten. Continue Reading
While I’m clearly no BRITNEY SPEARS fan, I have to admit she’s had a few hit records I liked. But it wasn’t her vocal that turned the trick…it was more the melody, lyrics and production which seduced me. Britney’s not a great singer…not a great dancer…not a big thinker (see Michael Moore’s film with her as an interviewee)…and doesn’t write her own material. She is the ultimate pop tart.
Little known to the mainstream (at least musically…she did star in a Nickelodeon kids’ show) is her sister JAMIE LYNN, who has quietly become a writer and singer of country music. Several years her sister’s junior, Jamie Lynn writes (or co-writes) real live Nashville tunes with some thought and maturity behind them. Is she along for the ride with excellent writers and not necessarily pulling her weight? Hard to know. But her songs ring true…and her voice sounds good on record (though not so wonderful live). Continue Reading
In my never ending quest to understand women and the mysterious organ they possess, I recently checked “THE VAGINA MONOLOGUES” out of the library. For those unaware, a one-woman play of the same name was a huge hit on Broadway almost 20 years ago. The book and the play are comprised of interviews and observations made respectively by a woman and women concerning their relationship with that “down there” part of their anatomy.
In one especially disturbing anecdote, a 72-year old interviewee revealed that in her budding sexual maturity, the woman had gone out on a date with a man who wheeled and put an aggressive make on her while they were both in his car. So turned on was she by the advance that the woman’s vagina gushed liquid and left a puddle on the man’s seat. So freaked out was he by the display that he drove her home – never to call her again! And so freaked out was she as well that was effectively the end of her sex life! Finally, at age 72 she’d revealed this secret to the interviewer. Continue Reading
Independent record companies are a strange animal. One day they have just enough money to press a record (or a CD) and the next…they’re swimming in cash from an unexpected million seller. And so it was with an outfit called EMERGENCY RECORDS. “LET THE MUSIC PLAY,” a record sung by an accountant paid somewhere around $100 for her lead vocal, became a top ten hit – and the owner was told by his accountant to start reinvesting money to offset the huge windfall.
As a result, the number 2 man at the firm shoved a big cardboard box of what must have been 100 cassettes in my face…wrote me a check for a hundred bucks (apparently the going rate for lead vocals and freelance A&R duties) and told me to listen to everything and bring the best songs to his attention. Continue Reading
An orgasm is a funny thing – especially when you have it with a partner. Here you are in the most intimate of settings and more often than not, it’s accompanied with no verbal intercourse. You’ve been talking and talking with your prospective hookup leading to the magical moment and then when you finally get there and are about to ascend to the summit…all that verbal intercourse eludes you. And this goes for not just the guy – but the girl as well.
I have a pet peeve with the women I can somehow convince to sleep with me. There is rarely if ever any verbal intercourse accompanying the sexual kind when she reaches her peak. This muddies the waters. Often, it’s difficult to know when – and even if – the woman makes it to the top. Thus, you can’t know exactly which technique or movement is ringing her bell. A little play by play might be in order. Continue Reading
In the past, I’ve told stories about escorts and the celebrities they meet on the job. And trust me…there are enough of them to fill a book. But what about pros who meet celebs while off duty? Believe it or not, that happens, too. And what if you yourself are bedding the girl who bedded the star…and she gives you a review of that star’s performance as if she were writing the guy up on TER or something? Bizarre! This has actually happened to me on at least two occasions that I can immediately recall.
Anecdote #1 came from an Amer-Asian hoochie mama who hustled herself an invitation to a rap star’s album party given at a club way west in the 50’s. “Get high” artist that she was, Brooke did exactly that and then stripped stark naked to do some sort of mystical flower girl/peyote dance on stage. After enjoying her performance for a few minutes, “Doodle’s” (name changed to protect the guilty) minions carried Brooke back to a private office area where Doodle diddled her! Continue Reading
All she really wants career-wise is to be a cop – a sheriff’s officer to be exact. But for KRISTEN HYMAN, recent graduate from the Hudson County Academy, it may all flush down the crapper now after the department’s discovery that between 2010 and 2012, Ms. Hyman turned a buck as a dominatrix. She even filmed a video in which her domme alter ego was described as “a true sexual sadist who hurts people not because she has to, but because it truly brings her pleasure.” Excuse me for being a wise guy…but wouldn’t that be the perfect qualification for the job?
Ok! Let’s be serious for half a second. Curious logic notwithstanding, spanking a guy till he bleeds…or inserting all manner of objects in his nether regions is perfectly legal. She did nothing against the law. What’s the problem? I would imagine that the police don’t want citizens to think they condone the sort of attitude articulated in the aforementioned description. But really…I think the horse escaped with the barn door left swinging on that one. Continue Reading
A reader who’d just discovered that all the local ads are gone from this blog emailed me yesterday asking to which site he should go to find my old advertisers. I answered in one word: Backpage. Minutes later he wrote back that it wasn’t readily apparent which of those ads was an A-list place and which was a crappy spa with lumpy staff.
Not really my problem. I left it at that until the next day when I logged on to Backpage for what reason I can’t remember and decided to peruse the sponsor ads (the crap on the sidebar which doesn’t generate any calls) and discovered that all but one A-list place had abandoned that worthless piece of real estate. Continue Reading
I was over at a leading place yesterday (man years ago actually – this is a repeat post) when one of the girls off-handedly began gossiping about the mad love affair one of the other girls is conducting with a guy from the neighborhood.
I’m always curious when I hear about a (presumably) hardened escort getting all gushy for a guy. I mean…she meets so many individuals compared to a “regular” girl, I wonder exactly what it is about the one man that is just sooo seductive. Is the guy George Clooney handsome? Or does he boast a huge wallet? Or an even bigger you-know-what? Continue Reading
The length to which the federal government will go to investigate a person of interest knows no bounds if I’m any indication. Ya think I’m crazy? Check it out.
Rewind five years to when I used to link this blog to my Facebook account. Some SEO guy recommended I do just that as it would be beneficial to my Google ranking. Being first on page 1 meant nothing for this blog in actuality because when it happened, nobody noticed. But that’s besides the point. I’m sure it works wonderfully for some sites.
Anyway…one day, I received several friend requests on my Facebook page. Surprised and gratified at my newfound popularity, I eagerly checked off all the confirmation boxes accepting my new homies until somewhere around #15 I noticed the request had come from a 14 year-old girl! Continue Reading
It’s late and who wants to leave the house or wait for a girl to arrive when video chat with this and many other girls is just a few seconds away? Check it out! And every time you hit the refresh button, you’ll see a different girl. Or click the girl’s pic and the sound comes on.
It wasn’t long ago that I expounded on BILL MAHER’S use of the n-word, opining that I understood the mistake but didn’t think that people who know Bill would think it was that big of a deal. I say this today because just a few days ago, I got the “white boy” epithet thrown at me by a person of color and I didn’t really give a crap. The context was such that I wasn’t offended.
On a mission to help a phone girl set up a new website, I ascended to her spot where I assumed she would be alone – only to be mock-jumped by two floor girls of color who were visiting. Now this is not the first time I’ve been subjected to faux muggings upon entering a place because for better or worse, some girls think this is a funny prank. Continue Reading
As we all know, adult directory ads are filled with lies. Girls will say anything to trick a guy! I remember one customer who wrote her own text in which she claimed to be “36DD and all natural,” when in fact she was all implants and no breasts at all! Ya know…balloons that looked like you could pop them with a pin! Exactly how she reconciled that lie upon meeting a guy I’ll never know.
Then ya got the old age deal. I know one girl who says she’s 32. I saw her ID recently. She’s 55! And then another says 48! She’s 70!! And let’s not forget about what I call the “tranny formula” which dictates that she add 50% to a certain organ. Or as Jimi Hendrix used to say “if 6 was 9.”
Add to that the hackneyed phrases “classy,” “accommodating” (spelled ten different ways – all wrong), “non-pro,” “intelligent,” and a myriad of others 99% of which don’t apply to the person describing herself…and what you get is an expose on “lies in advertising.” I mean…it’s ridiculous. Black girls say they’re latin…latin girls say they’re Italian…Chinese girls say they’re Japanese…and on and on. It never ends. Continue Reading
Almost 20 years after I drove my last cab shift, I still have friends with whom I reminisce about the good old days. And so it would figure that 10 days after retiring from the adult ad biz, I’d still have a few acquaintances in the escort world. Last night I had an interesting conversation with one of those girls.
She’s a cute and popular practitioner who commutes from almost 1000 miles away to work in New York a week or two at a time after which she returns home for a while and then starts the cycle again. Curiously, the girl chooses to ride the bus 16 hours each way. As a veteran of not one but two round trip Chinese bus rides to Orlando, I’m always eager to engage in discourse about the pros and cons of bus travel. Continue Reading