Thursday, August 23, 2007
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
Bijou Boy To The Rescue
The Bijou... a Chicago landmark blessing the wonderful Windy City since, well, a long time. If the Bijou does not ring a bell for you like other famous landmarks of Chicago like the Sears Tower, Wrigley Field, or the Picasso Sculpture, you are not alone; however you are missing out on a bizarre and wonderful paradise that exists 24 hours a day, 365 days a year. For a mere $18 you may spend up to ten hours exploring the exotic crevices such as "The Pit", "the mine shaft", "big dick blvd", and the unavoidable "circle jerk theater" of the fantastic palace located on North Avenue, appropriately named The Bijou.
For those of you not savvy in the French language, Bijou in French means "the jewel", and once I was lucky enough to step inside this seedy palace, and once I was hit with the overwhelming stench of open asshole mixed with mansweat mixed with cum, I realized that the Bijou is truly the jewel of Chicago. However there is one very sad truth about the Bijou... it is only open to men. You see, this paradise is a men's bathhouse, a place where men go to have anonymous sex with one another, and until recently, to my knowledge a female had not stepped inside it, at least not one with the purpose of writing about it.
That cold January night, I transformed. I started out the night a lovely lady; however after gluing on some fur for sideburns, and a small strip of velvet to create a pencil line mustache, with the addition of a mesh trucker's cap and a large flannel shirt, I transformed from boring Meg McCarville, cursed for life to be a lowly defective woman and never to be let into the heaven that is The Bijou, into my alter ego. Much like many super heroes in the past I became someone different, someone better, I became BIJOU BOY, and my new super power was to finally be allowed to go through that turnstile, past the room of porno rentals, and into the place that I have always wondered about but never thought I could see.... the male only bathhouse known as The Bijou.
It was very easy to get in. There was no question as to weather or not I was a man. I was accompanied by two of my male friends that were interested in what lay inside, but unlike me, had not been previously excluded from this man playground and thereby developing a bizarre obsession and extreme excitement to see what lie in the building with the pink cursive neon sign outside. After going through the turnstile, we immediately entered a theatre showing gay male porno on a huge screen. I had already called, so I knew what films were on the program that night. They were showing two. When I walked in they were showing some Spanish documentary on the making of some guy's gay porno films. (A side note about the Bijou: If you ever get the chance to call the Bijou's phone number, I strongly advise you to do so. There are graphic reviews of the gay pornographic films that are to be playing there each week and they are always brilliant and hilarious, and provide some type of redemption for we females, who are not allowed inside, without being pathetic enough to develop an alter ego in order to enter.)
After sitting down for a little while and watching the porno, I was giddy with childlike excitement to see what awaited me behind the door beyond the "Circle Jerk theater", as it is properly named. . Upon exiting the Circle Jerk Theater, we entered a room full of lockers with a bathroom. There were two toilets in the bathroom, however no doors. And it was in this downstairs bathroom that I had the extreme pleasure of viewing my very first glory hole! Mind you, I was trying to go undercover, so I had to hide all of this excitement and try to act like I was supposed to be there. So I could not scream out in excitement "GLORY HOLE!!!!!" like I wanted to so badly.
Little did I know, there was so much more to be seen. A single spiral staircase led up to the next floor where I found an entire maze of glory holes. On this floor was a series of doors and rows of 4X4 closet type rooms each with large holes in the walls, not just for a penis to fit through, but one could have anal sex through these holes because they were about 2 feet high and 2 feet wide, although splinters seem like they could be a problem considering the wood was rather rough. We were there on a Thursday night, and I really am not yet familiar with the hours where it becomes very busy, but it wasn't particularly packed that evening. When I walked down "big dick blvd" to "pick up alley" I noticed an older man, and this was the first time I experienced the type of communication that is used in the Bijou. I do not know if this is the way it works at other gay male bathhouses, but at the Bijou, there is no verbal communication going on between clients. I had an older man look at me and I made eye contact with him and he then made a head motion towards one of the rooms with the glory holes. He obviously wanted me to meet him on one side of one. I figured the best bet would be to look down. So I did. No hurt feelings. We both just parted and went our separate ways. There is no rejection that I could really see at the Bijou. As the night progressed, these looks happened to me a number of times and I would look down each time and the men would move on.
This was all fine and dandy so far, but I knew I still hadn’t experienced the best of the Bijou had to offer. My friends started to get annoyed. They did not realize that I was no longer Meg, I was Bijou Boy, and the did not share my pathetic, childlike fascination. We reconvened downstairs and they expressed that they wanted to leave. But since I had seen the website, I knew that there were other parts of it that I was missing because there was a dungeon type room that I had not yet seen. I suggested that maybe if we waited awhile it would get busier and therefore more interesting, so we decided to sit in the Circle Jerk Theater for a little while and then go back upstairs. So we did, and it was the second trip upstairs that we all witnessed something greater than any of us could have even thought up in our sick, retarded minds.
Upon returning upstairs, the first place I was able to find that I could not find before was a terrifying, completely dark little corner with a couple of rooms which stank of cum and ass more so than any other part of the Bijou. There was an old sign above it that was dimly lit that said "blow job alley." This place was completely empty, and very dark and I did not want to stick around there AT ALL, for fear that one of the men that had given me looks previously would think I was looking for something, and then my true identity would be revealed, and oh it would have just been such a mess. "Blow job corner" was very intriguing but I could not take it for more than a minute. I was happy I had found something I missed, but I still remembered this dungeon type room that was advertised on the website that I was somehow unable to find. So far I had seen "circle jerk theatre", "blow job corner", "gypsy blvd", the "meat market", the "mine shaft", and I had traveled up and down "big dick blvd", but had not yet experienced "the pit", which was what I was looking for.
By this point in the night we had been there for maybe two hours and the two men that had accompanied me were getting cranky (even though one of them was gay, but he was finding no one that took his fancy) and I was of course blown away (no pun intended) by what I had seen, but I felt like something was missing. Then we found "the pit", which seemed to be where everyone was hanging out at that time..
I will outline the room first. There was a leather swing on each side of the room and a bench against the wall. There was one older black man straddled in his underwear in one swing and the other swing was at first empty, but later occupied by my homosexual pal that accompanied me. The main feature of the room though, which I had not seen on the website, was a huge wooden X with leather handcuffs attached to each corner. It was being used when we entered the room. It would have been exciting enough to see this merely being used by anyone, but the people that were using it made the Bijou the jewel that it truly is.
The person handcuffed to the X was a very bad looking transvestite/transsexual. I really could not tell. The person looked to me like a wiry man with long hair wearing a dress that was way too big for him or her. Then the person who was "torturing" this transsexual creature was this man with long hair and a short sleeved shirt, and fully tattooed arms. When I looked closer at his arms, I noticed that all of the tattoos were of swastikas and various white power symbols... a rather odd type to see in a gay bathhouse. I figured maybe he was an ex Nazi, or even more interesting maybe he was like a grand wizard of the KKK but secretly gay and sadistic and he was living out his secret life right here in front of me at the Bijou! My Bijou Boy radar went with the latter definition. There was loud 80s type rock music playing in this room, which was a huge shame because in between the songs was the only time I was able to hear the screams of the writhing transsexual and the faint dialogue going on while the Nazi man attached clamps to the transsexual's nipples an tugged them hard. The Nazi man was also whipping the transsexual.
As if everything else weren’t weird enough, there was, sitting on the bench, and overweight WOMAN (and all along I thought that I was revolutionary since I was the only woman to ever enter the Bijou). The strange part was that she was obviously familiar with the place and I'm sure she was involved in this sex act, but she seemed more sad than anything. Again I used my Bijou Boy reasoning, and since she kept tending to the needs of the transsexual and actually looked as if she pitied him and wanted to help him, I deduced that she cared about him in some way and was not participating in the whipping and torture of the wiry transsexual. Perhaps he was her husband testing out his fantasy... who knows? The transsexual definitely seemed like someone she cared about. All I know is that it was one of the most interesting and bizarre things I have seen in my whole life. And I have seen a lot. It was almost a Christ-like scene. After seeing Mel Gibson's "The Passion" I can compare it to perhaps Jesus being crucified and tortured. But instead of the Messiah on a cross, it was a transsexual on an X. I suppose the overweight woman on the bench could have been Mary, mourning the torture of her son.
Mind you, all of this stuff was just what I deduced as Bijou Boy. It was probably just all routine and probably quite boring to most of the regulars, but for me, knowing I was observing something I had always wanted to see, it was beautiful.
After witnessing this, my male companions were quite impressed and glad that we had stayed and found "the pit.” But it being only Thursday (which I guess isn’t that crazy a night at the Bijou) the action started dying down pretty soon thereafter and we decided to leave. I did manage to take a lot from the surreal experience. What I saw as Bijou Boy was amazing, but just to think that this place is open 24 hours a day 365 days a year blows me away (again, no pun intended).
Now when I’m bored and have nothing better to do, I let my mind wander to thoughts of the Bijou, and I wonder what is going on there right now? The fact that a place like that exists – a place where a man can go and have random sex with another man at any time and it’s not even prostitution -- absolutely amazes me to the point of envying it. Why aren't men there all the time? And more importantly, why are these places not available for women? I feel like I could use one.
For those of you not savvy in the French language, Bijou in French means "the jewel", and once I was lucky enough to step inside this seedy palace, and once I was hit with the overwhelming stench of open asshole mixed with mansweat mixed with cum, I realized that the Bijou is truly the jewel of Chicago. However there is one very sad truth about the Bijou... it is only open to men. You see, this paradise is a men's bathhouse, a place where men go to have anonymous sex with one another, and until recently, to my knowledge a female had not stepped inside it, at least not one with the purpose of writing about it.
That cold January night, I transformed. I started out the night a lovely lady; however after gluing on some fur for sideburns, and a small strip of velvet to create a pencil line mustache, with the addition of a mesh trucker's cap and a large flannel shirt, I transformed from boring Meg McCarville, cursed for life to be a lowly defective woman and never to be let into the heaven that is The Bijou, into my alter ego. Much like many super heroes in the past I became someone different, someone better, I became BIJOU BOY, and my new super power was to finally be allowed to go through that turnstile, past the room of porno rentals, and into the place that I have always wondered about but never thought I could see.... the male only bathhouse known as The Bijou.
It was very easy to get in. There was no question as to weather or not I was a man. I was accompanied by two of my male friends that were interested in what lay inside, but unlike me, had not been previously excluded from this man playground and thereby developing a bizarre obsession and extreme excitement to see what lie in the building with the pink cursive neon sign outside. After going through the turnstile, we immediately entered a theatre showing gay male porno on a huge screen. I had already called, so I knew what films were on the program that night. They were showing two. When I walked in they were showing some Spanish documentary on the making of some guy's gay porno films. (A side note about the Bijou: If you ever get the chance to call the Bijou's phone number, I strongly advise you to do so. There are graphic reviews of the gay pornographic films that are to be playing there each week and they are always brilliant and hilarious, and provide some type of redemption for we females, who are not allowed inside, without being pathetic enough to develop an alter ego in order to enter.)
After sitting down for a little while and watching the porno, I was giddy with childlike excitement to see what awaited me behind the door beyond the "Circle Jerk theater", as it is properly named. . Upon exiting the Circle Jerk Theater, we entered a room full of lockers with a bathroom. There were two toilets in the bathroom, however no doors. And it was in this downstairs bathroom that I had the extreme pleasure of viewing my very first glory hole! Mind you, I was trying to go undercover, so I had to hide all of this excitement and try to act like I was supposed to be there. So I could not scream out in excitement "GLORY HOLE!!!!!" like I wanted to so badly.
Little did I know, there was so much more to be seen. A single spiral staircase led up to the next floor where I found an entire maze of glory holes. On this floor was a series of doors and rows of 4X4 closet type rooms each with large holes in the walls, not just for a penis to fit through, but one could have anal sex through these holes because they were about 2 feet high and 2 feet wide, although splinters seem like they could be a problem considering the wood was rather rough. We were there on a Thursday night, and I really am not yet familiar with the hours where it becomes very busy, but it wasn't particularly packed that evening. When I walked down "big dick blvd" to "pick up alley" I noticed an older man, and this was the first time I experienced the type of communication that is used in the Bijou. I do not know if this is the way it works at other gay male bathhouses, but at the Bijou, there is no verbal communication going on between clients. I had an older man look at me and I made eye contact with him and he then made a head motion towards one of the rooms with the glory holes. He obviously wanted me to meet him on one side of one. I figured the best bet would be to look down. So I did. No hurt feelings. We both just parted and went our separate ways. There is no rejection that I could really see at the Bijou. As the night progressed, these looks happened to me a number of times and I would look down each time and the men would move on.
This was all fine and dandy so far, but I knew I still hadn’t experienced the best of the Bijou had to offer. My friends started to get annoyed. They did not realize that I was no longer Meg, I was Bijou Boy, and the did not share my pathetic, childlike fascination. We reconvened downstairs and they expressed that they wanted to leave. But since I had seen the website, I knew that there were other parts of it that I was missing because there was a dungeon type room that I had not yet seen. I suggested that maybe if we waited awhile it would get busier and therefore more interesting, so we decided to sit in the Circle Jerk Theater for a little while and then go back upstairs. So we did, and it was the second trip upstairs that we all witnessed something greater than any of us could have even thought up in our sick, retarded minds.
Upon returning upstairs, the first place I was able to find that I could not find before was a terrifying, completely dark little corner with a couple of rooms which stank of cum and ass more so than any other part of the Bijou. There was an old sign above it that was dimly lit that said "blow job alley." This place was completely empty, and very dark and I did not want to stick around there AT ALL, for fear that one of the men that had given me looks previously would think I was looking for something, and then my true identity would be revealed, and oh it would have just been such a mess. "Blow job corner" was very intriguing but I could not take it for more than a minute. I was happy I had found something I missed, but I still remembered this dungeon type room that was advertised on the website that I was somehow unable to find. So far I had seen "circle jerk theatre", "blow job corner", "gypsy blvd", the "meat market", the "mine shaft", and I had traveled up and down "big dick blvd", but had not yet experienced "the pit", which was what I was looking for.
By this point in the night we had been there for maybe two hours and the two men that had accompanied me were getting cranky (even though one of them was gay, but he was finding no one that took his fancy) and I was of course blown away (no pun intended) by what I had seen, but I felt like something was missing. Then we found "the pit", which seemed to be where everyone was hanging out at that time..
I will outline the room first. There was a leather swing on each side of the room and a bench against the wall. There was one older black man straddled in his underwear in one swing and the other swing was at first empty, but later occupied by my homosexual pal that accompanied me. The main feature of the room though, which I had not seen on the website, was a huge wooden X with leather handcuffs attached to each corner. It was being used when we entered the room. It would have been exciting enough to see this merely being used by anyone, but the people that were using it made the Bijou the jewel that it truly is.
The person handcuffed to the X was a very bad looking transvestite/transsexual. I really could not tell. The person looked to me like a wiry man with long hair wearing a dress that was way too big for him or her. Then the person who was "torturing" this transsexual creature was this man with long hair and a short sleeved shirt, and fully tattooed arms. When I looked closer at his arms, I noticed that all of the tattoos were of swastikas and various white power symbols... a rather odd type to see in a gay bathhouse. I figured maybe he was an ex Nazi, or even more interesting maybe he was like a grand wizard of the KKK but secretly gay and sadistic and he was living out his secret life right here in front of me at the Bijou! My Bijou Boy radar went with the latter definition. There was loud 80s type rock music playing in this room, which was a huge shame because in between the songs was the only time I was able to hear the screams of the writhing transsexual and the faint dialogue going on while the Nazi man attached clamps to the transsexual's nipples an tugged them hard. The Nazi man was also whipping the transsexual.
As if everything else weren’t weird enough, there was, sitting on the bench, and overweight WOMAN (and all along I thought that I was revolutionary since I was the only woman to ever enter the Bijou). The strange part was that she was obviously familiar with the place and I'm sure she was involved in this sex act, but she seemed more sad than anything. Again I used my Bijou Boy reasoning, and since she kept tending to the needs of the transsexual and actually looked as if she pitied him and wanted to help him, I deduced that she cared about him in some way and was not participating in the whipping and torture of the wiry transsexual. Perhaps he was her husband testing out his fantasy... who knows? The transsexual definitely seemed like someone she cared about. All I know is that it was one of the most interesting and bizarre things I have seen in my whole life. And I have seen a lot. It was almost a Christ-like scene. After seeing Mel Gibson's "The Passion" I can compare it to perhaps Jesus being crucified and tortured. But instead of the Messiah on a cross, it was a transsexual on an X. I suppose the overweight woman on the bench could have been Mary, mourning the torture of her son.
Mind you, all of this stuff was just what I deduced as Bijou Boy. It was probably just all routine and probably quite boring to most of the regulars, but for me, knowing I was observing something I had always wanted to see, it was beautiful.
After witnessing this, my male companions were quite impressed and glad that we had stayed and found "the pit.” But it being only Thursday (which I guess isn’t that crazy a night at the Bijou) the action started dying down pretty soon thereafter and we decided to leave. I did manage to take a lot from the surreal experience. What I saw as Bijou Boy was amazing, but just to think that this place is open 24 hours a day 365 days a year blows me away (again, no pun intended).
Now when I’m bored and have nothing better to do, I let my mind wander to thoughts of the Bijou, and I wonder what is going on there right now? The fact that a place like that exists – a place where a man can go and have random sex with another man at any time and it’s not even prostitution -- absolutely amazes me to the point of envying it. Why aren't men there all the time? And more importantly, why are these places not available for women? I feel like I could use one.
Friday, August 10, 2007
Skullfucking Tyra
I have long been a fan of ANTM. It has been a major part of my life for years now. For those of you who are unfortunate enough to live in a hole, ANTM means America's Next Top Model, and it is perhaps one of the most amazing/despicably wonderful shows to grace television. And believe me... I luv me some TV Especially reality shows. I have seen girl after girl go on and make it and then cry and get kicked off by Janice Dickenson's botoxed-to-the-extreme face as she cackles at the photos before passing them to the loverly Miss J. By the way, Miss J, for those of you who aren’t ANTM regulars, is some sort of deformed version of a black Mommy Dearest if she Mommy Dearest were also a terrible looking transsexual who could get away with wearing a towel and a feather and calling it high fashion.
And then there's Tyra. There is far too much to say about the Tyranator. She’s done literally EVERYTHING to make money and now she is the next "Oprah,” which may or may not be a good thing – especially when she has the talk shows where she berates strippers for selling their bodies, without even mentioning once anything about the modeling industry or the irony of her condemnation. Yes, there is far too much to say about Tyra Banks for one little CJ post.
Since Cycle one of this show, I have tried to put my place into every episode and see how I would fair with all of those other bitches. The only one I felt some sort of connection with was Andrea from Cycle one who was very obviously a drug addict because she got a very mysterious "flu" lasting about five to seven days in which she had to be hospitalized, and then all of the sudden she was fine. Flu be damned… my guess: heroin withdraw. But besides that (or perhaps I should write “In addition to that”) she was crass as hell, and from Chi town, and no one could ever tell a word she said. She later was on Vh1's Surreal Life, where she did some more crazy shit, and then I think faded into obscurity.
After her, I still watched the show, but it was hard for me to identify with any of these idiots. Plus, I’ve started looking pregnant and I broke a tooth, so my chances of being on the show have pretty much gone down the toilet.
But no… finally in this last cycle we got introduced to Jael. I really didn’t care to watch ANTM anymore by the time she joined the contest, so I had to be told various times to watch this show and watch this crazy wonderful lady whose name was pronounced like a prison.
The first time I watched I was floored. She really had class. She did something that I always wanted to do. You see I’ve always wanted to be black, and I’ve always had a little chip on my shoulder because I’m not. But this girl, who has completely anglo-saxon features, claimed on the show to be half black and half jewish – "Blewish" as she called it. It was genius. That statement and a couple of others even got her thrown into a pool by 50 Cent. I want to be thrown into a pool by 50 Cent!!!!!
Then again… who doesn’t?
Jael, the little Blewish vixen, brought so much fun to the show while making it obvious that she didn’t give a fuck about anything or anyone. Two weeks into the show her friend had died of a drug overdose, and that caused some undue controversy to Tyra's image of the squeaky clean modeling industry where no one does drugs or has eating disorders and weighs 140 pounds and it's all good. That controversy inspired one of my friends to point out that if my presence was to ever grace ANTM, Jael and my stories would be quite similar.
Jael was of course kicked off the show for being "crass." Even funnier than that, every time Tyra called her up for her evaluation she would talk about how she didn't understand a single word Jael said. She did mumble a lot, as do I. It should also be pointed out that Jael is a total fucking hippie and seemingly loves everyone, and her personal page now calls the contestants "America's Next Top Monsters" and she did not like the competition or the way those other wannabe-model douchebags acted. I completely agree.
Jael was eliminated fairly late into the show, but I don't think she was in the top five or anything. However, she still hasn’t managed to fade into obscurity. Not that girl. She ended up moving back to Detroit and doing some modeling and promoting for some bands I've never heard of, but I heard her say in a recent interview that she is not gay, or straight, or bisexual, or queer, and that is how I feel. I would do it with a rock if I found it appropriate at the time. I believe she has some boyfriend now, but it doesn't matter. I plan to find her at this year's Burning Man Festival, and then we shall get married and fuck the shit out of as many female celebrities as we can. At least… that’s my new goal in life.
Jael Strauss and me… Meg… Lil Princess.... It would be such a great union...
First of all, we'd have to visit LA where I hear we can score some good drugs from Ms. Lohan who has now become the 20-year-old Robert Downey Jr. We'd do a bunch of Hollywood coke off of Lindsay’s tits and then Jael would perform oral sex on her because I would still be nervous.
After Lindsay we'd of course have to hit Bijou Phillips, as she has been a fantasy of mine for some time. And I think she would be our good friend. Then the last teen Hollywood girl stop would be Nicole Richie only because I hear she's preggers now and that would be hot. I want to drink her breast milk. Plus Jael and her are both Blewish, so there would be no cross breeding, for those against that
Jesus, there are so many possibilities with young Hollywood. I think we should kidnap Katie Holmes, just to get her away from that horrible pockmarcked bag of shit napoleoncomplex dickhole Tom Cruise. We'd make her crave lesbians and then she'd have to leave Scientology. If we happened to run into Angelina Jolie around the way, I think we'd just have to shoot her in the head.
With Angelina gone, I think we’d start hitting chicks from the View. Not hitting as in killing, but back to hitting as in fucking. I would like to get fat Rosie O'Donell and thin Star Jones in a room and make them fuck on camera. I don’t know exactly how we’d convince them, but it would probably involved a call to Ms. Lohan to snag some of that top--notch ecstasy she gets, toss it into a batch of brownies (how could Rosie or Star resist) and just watch those two go to town.
Where to from there… who knows? In Hollywood, the possibilities would be endless. Of course I'm going to get gross and say something about Dakota Fanning. But she is getting so goddamn sexy in her late years. Not only because I want to see America's Sweetheart play a terribly abused dirty little girl, but because I keep hearing these RIDICULOUS debates about how it shouldn't be her who did the rape scene in the upcoming movie she’s in. It should be another little girl.
I don’t know why people don’t want to see Dakota getting raped. With all the roles this brilliant little girl has played, I think she would be the most prepared that one can be for a role like that, if she wanted to do it, which she says she does. But Hollywood says NOOO, she was in some perverse movie with Bruce Willis, she can't get cinema raped, leave that up to some other girl who will fade into obscurity and pull a Dana Plato later in her life. Whatever – a tangent I know – but Jael and I will get her too. I don't know what will happen. I just want a piece of America's Sweetheart. Maybe she’d like it so much she’d join our gang. We'd kick Lohan and her shitty drugs outta the cult and get Dakota in. She of course would not be allowed near Ms. O'Donnel. That would be cruel and unusual. Or miss Jolie and all her "adopted big headed African-Asian kids who she puts in expensive clothes and cuts their hair in faux hawks"... HOW GROSS.
Finally, for Jael we'd get a bunch of our sex worker friends together to pay Tyra (miss "you can't sell your body, but you should be a model") a visit and we'd slip her some of Lohan's drugs, because they never run out. We’d invite all the dirty sex workers to a taping of the Tyra show and where the host would be so blitzed and drugged she’d finally say the very true statement that modeling is EXACTLY the same as prostitution. Then we would skullfuck her with strapons.
That’s right… Jael and I are going to skullfuck Tyra Banks.
And then there's Tyra. There is far too much to say about the Tyranator. She’s done literally EVERYTHING to make money and now she is the next "Oprah,” which may or may not be a good thing – especially when she has the talk shows where she berates strippers for selling their bodies, without even mentioning once anything about the modeling industry or the irony of her condemnation. Yes, there is far too much to say about Tyra Banks for one little CJ post.
Since Cycle one of this show, I have tried to put my place into every episode and see how I would fair with all of those other bitches. The only one I felt some sort of connection with was Andrea from Cycle one who was very obviously a drug addict because she got a very mysterious "flu" lasting about five to seven days in which she had to be hospitalized, and then all of the sudden she was fine. Flu be damned… my guess: heroin withdraw. But besides that (or perhaps I should write “In addition to that”) she was crass as hell, and from Chi town, and no one could ever tell a word she said. She later was on Vh1's Surreal Life, where she did some more crazy shit, and then I think faded into obscurity.
After her, I still watched the show, but it was hard for me to identify with any of these idiots. Plus, I’ve started looking pregnant and I broke a tooth, so my chances of being on the show have pretty much gone down the toilet.
But no… finally in this last cycle we got introduced to Jael. I really didn’t care to watch ANTM anymore by the time she joined the contest, so I had to be told various times to watch this show and watch this crazy wonderful lady whose name was pronounced like a prison.
The first time I watched I was floored. She really had class. She did something that I always wanted to do. You see I’ve always wanted to be black, and I’ve always had a little chip on my shoulder because I’m not. But this girl, who has completely anglo-saxon features, claimed on the show to be half black and half jewish – "Blewish" as she called it. It was genius. That statement and a couple of others even got her thrown into a pool by 50 Cent. I want to be thrown into a pool by 50 Cent!!!!!
Then again… who doesn’t?
Jael, the little Blewish vixen, brought so much fun to the show while making it obvious that she didn’t give a fuck about anything or anyone. Two weeks into the show her friend had died of a drug overdose, and that caused some undue controversy to Tyra's image of the squeaky clean modeling industry where no one does drugs or has eating disorders and weighs 140 pounds and it's all good. That controversy inspired one of my friends to point out that if my presence was to ever grace ANTM, Jael and my stories would be quite similar.
Jael was of course kicked off the show for being "crass." Even funnier than that, every time Tyra called her up for her evaluation she would talk about how she didn't understand a single word Jael said. She did mumble a lot, as do I. It should also be pointed out that Jael is a total fucking hippie and seemingly loves everyone, and her personal page now calls the contestants "America's Next Top Monsters" and she did not like the competition or the way those other wannabe-model douchebags acted. I completely agree.
Jael was eliminated fairly late into the show, but I don't think she was in the top five or anything. However, she still hasn’t managed to fade into obscurity. Not that girl. She ended up moving back to Detroit and doing some modeling and promoting for some bands I've never heard of, but I heard her say in a recent interview that she is not gay, or straight, or bisexual, or queer, and that is how I feel. I would do it with a rock if I found it appropriate at the time. I believe she has some boyfriend now, but it doesn't matter. I plan to find her at this year's Burning Man Festival, and then we shall get married and fuck the shit out of as many female celebrities as we can. At least… that’s my new goal in life.
Jael Strauss and me… Meg… Lil Princess.... It would be such a great union...
First of all, we'd have to visit LA where I hear we can score some good drugs from Ms. Lohan who has now become the 20-year-old Robert Downey Jr. We'd do a bunch of Hollywood coke off of Lindsay’s tits and then Jael would perform oral sex on her because I would still be nervous.
After Lindsay we'd of course have to hit Bijou Phillips, as she has been a fantasy of mine for some time. And I think she would be our good friend. Then the last teen Hollywood girl stop would be Nicole Richie only because I hear she's preggers now and that would be hot. I want to drink her breast milk. Plus Jael and her are both Blewish, so there would be no cross breeding, for those against that
Jesus, there are so many possibilities with young Hollywood. I think we should kidnap Katie Holmes, just to get her away from that horrible pockmarcked bag of shit napoleoncomplex dickhole Tom Cruise. We'd make her crave lesbians and then she'd have to leave Scientology. If we happened to run into Angelina Jolie around the way, I think we'd just have to shoot her in the head.
With Angelina gone, I think we’d start hitting chicks from the View. Not hitting as in killing, but back to hitting as in fucking. I would like to get fat Rosie O'Donell and thin Star Jones in a room and make them fuck on camera. I don’t know exactly how we’d convince them, but it would probably involved a call to Ms. Lohan to snag some of that top--notch ecstasy she gets, toss it into a batch of brownies (how could Rosie or Star resist) and just watch those two go to town.
Where to from there… who knows? In Hollywood, the possibilities would be endless. Of course I'm going to get gross and say something about Dakota Fanning. But she is getting so goddamn sexy in her late years. Not only because I want to see America's Sweetheart play a terribly abused dirty little girl, but because I keep hearing these RIDICULOUS debates about how it shouldn't be her who did the rape scene in the upcoming movie she’s in. It should be another little girl.
I don’t know why people don’t want to see Dakota getting raped. With all the roles this brilliant little girl has played, I think she would be the most prepared that one can be for a role like that, if she wanted to do it, which she says she does. But Hollywood says NOOO, she was in some perverse movie with Bruce Willis, she can't get cinema raped, leave that up to some other girl who will fade into obscurity and pull a Dana Plato later in her life. Whatever – a tangent I know – but Jael and I will get her too. I don't know what will happen. I just want a piece of America's Sweetheart. Maybe she’d like it so much she’d join our gang. We'd kick Lohan and her shitty drugs outta the cult and get Dakota in. She of course would not be allowed near Ms. O'Donnel. That would be cruel and unusual. Or miss Jolie and all her "adopted big headed African-Asian kids who she puts in expensive clothes and cuts their hair in faux hawks"... HOW GROSS.
Finally, for Jael we'd get a bunch of our sex worker friends together to pay Tyra (miss "you can't sell your body, but you should be a model") a visit and we'd slip her some of Lohan's drugs, because they never run out. We’d invite all the dirty sex workers to a taping of the Tyra show and where the host would be so blitzed and drugged she’d finally say the very true statement that modeling is EXACTLY the same as prostitution. Then we would skullfuck her with strapons.
That’s right… Jael and I are going to skullfuck Tyra Banks.
Wednesday, August 1, 2007
Popping My Anime Cherry
I don't know how many of you dorks out there in CJ land are Manga fans, or even know what Manga is. Before writing this, I tried to make a venn diagram of Manga fans, CJ fans, and the people who are both. Manga fans tend to be fat, dorky, morbidly obese, fat, gross, fat men. I still have not categorized CJ fans yet. Nonetheless, for those of you that don't know what it is, it's basically Japanese animation. I'm not particularly well schooled in it... but I did get a recent lesson, after which I felt so dirty I had to shower repeatedly just to get the Manga off of me and out of my mind. And it still won't fucking leave. It's so vile! I feel like I’ve been locked in a room and repeatedly gangbanged by vile fat, fat, fat, fat, Asian-loving men with tiny penises over and over and over. I did not ask for this, rather I was mistakenly thrown into this world, and I cannot seem to shake it.
I had semi-fortunate, but mostly unfortunate chance this weekend to attend the San Diego Comicon; quite possibly the world's biggest, most foul, disgusting assembly of perverts and comic trash, horror movie trash, zombie trash, anime trash, and Christ the list goes on and on. It even had Christian trash (as I learned, and I got some very DISGUSTING comic books from their table as well). This disgusting perv-fest happens around this time every year in San diego. For four days, these pedophiles, hebophiles, and other philes convene in one huge convention center and dress up in gross costumes and rub up against each other’s sweaty, nerdy bodies in order to obtain whatever their favorite dorky perversion is in the largest quantities possible.
I saw many perverse things when I was there. Far too many to explain. But I will highlight a few choice ones.
First, there was a sexy amputee dressed up as a character from a recent movie and exploiting the fact that she lost a leg, and it was so fucking hot. I have about ten minutes of videotape of disgustioids like myself drooling over her. Also, and this is sick, I saw these two Jonbenet types, little blonde littles, who were both wearing pink bathing suits and were obviously twin sisters. They were eating a french fry that they kept passing from one mouth to the other ala Lady and the Tramp, and it just looked like they were making out. This also went on for a full ten minutes, with the same french fry mind you, but I did not have the fortunate chance to document this with my video camera and I fear if I did it may put me in some kind of legal peril. Of course, there were 75 pedophiles hiding in the ceiling gazing at this weirdly unrehearsed act of perversion. Among other highlights was a very old man who looked like he was 2 seconds away from death in a wheelchair who turned out to be Ray Bradbury. He was so cute. And also I got the clap from Ernie Hudson… aka the black Ghostbuster Winston, aka the Warden from Oz (my favorite role). Those are some highlights.
However, my dears, I am not here to talk about those highlights. Instead, I will dwell on something more dark – a world much more foul and terrible... a world that on the surface looks innocent (like child beauty pageants to some, I guess), but is in fact so perverse even I feel dirty knowing it exists.
My entire life, I have been drawn to perversions of all types and thought I had some grasp of the good majority of them, but I totally misjudged everything. It started when I got to the convention. I started seeing them – small Asian girls with ears and hiked up skirts who already looked like they were underage, but they were trying extra hard to look like children. More and more of them surfaced until there were hundreds, maybe even a thousand of these girls walking around. But for every girl like this, there were at least 25 men. All, as I have explained, pockmarked and morbidly obese, all with little boners, sweating and drooling over each of these tiny princesses.
I was extremely intrigued by this, and honestly a bit jealous that I could not look that disgustingly young and did not have schoolgirl uniform and slanty eyes. I wanted to know the origin. I knew it had something to do with something Asian (good guess, right?), and probably somewhere around Japan because it is the most perverse and wonderful place in the entire universe. But that pretty much summed up my knowledge. Something Asian that fat, lonely men liked better than food and porn, but I also know it had to involve food and porn in some way or these fat men could not sustain their disgusting fatness.
Then I found it. I found a table full of it. Porno after porno... stuff I could not describe; stuff I never knew existed; stuff that I know if it did exist it would most certainly be super hidden and totally illegal, all sitting right before me at one of the table.
I picked one up. I think it was called "Pet Degradation" or something. It was a comic so it was all drawings, and it had this Asian child chained to a pole eating a white popsicle that was dripping all over her chin and her semi (very semi) clothed little body. And where her little special place was there was a big sticker that said "18+" over it. Although I am over 18, I can't help but think plenty of folks under the age of 18 may be able to speculate what was beneath that sticker.
I opened the book and found out what was under that sticker. I had guess right.
It had panel after panel of total inexplicable sexual deviance. It was so dirty even I, your slut in residence, felt like I had acted like Mother Teresa my entire life. All of my knowledge and horrible experiences went away when I focused my eyes upon those pages and pages of terribly perverse panels. I can't possibly begin to explain what this book contained, but if you ask, I can refer you to a website where you may purchase it all for your "self education." Sure, letting all you Sick Fucks know about such a thing is probably akin to dropping a hydrogen bomb, but then again I know that this stuff exists all over, and there was no one there protesting, or even commenting on it. It was all normal.
Naturally, I had to purchase as much of this stuff that my unemployed, broke ass could afford not only to satisfy the disgusting pervert that is me, but also as evidence to prove that this stuff fucking exists. I got it folks. Tons of it. Well, not really tons, but enough to sicken me for the next ten years (if I happen to live that long).
I can’t entirely explain why I had to buy them. I think it’s because I’ve always prided myself in knowing and having gone through so much… so much broken glass and bloody cum and molestation and touching of every sort. Obviously this is why I'm drawn and very put off, but also turned on, by this sort of stuff. It makes me sick that it really exists, and I really can't explain it, but I had to have it.
My brain is not even close to starting to wrap itself around this one. And I know there are plenty of people out there that love this stuff. Judging by the ones that could actually get their fat asses out of their houses and down to Southern California for the weekend, there must be a billion more fat asses that just sat at home and stared at their computers and typed something and received the same shit in the mail. I'm sorry for sounding like the Church Lady and Madonna. But I feel like a virgin again after witnessing this. DAMN.
Now, who wants to pop my newfound cherry?
I had semi-fortunate, but mostly unfortunate chance this weekend to attend the San Diego Comicon; quite possibly the world's biggest, most foul, disgusting assembly of perverts and comic trash, horror movie trash, zombie trash, anime trash, and Christ the list goes on and on. It even had Christian trash (as I learned, and I got some very DISGUSTING comic books from their table as well). This disgusting perv-fest happens around this time every year in San diego. For four days, these pedophiles, hebophiles, and other philes convene in one huge convention center and dress up in gross costumes and rub up against each other’s sweaty, nerdy bodies in order to obtain whatever their favorite dorky perversion is in the largest quantities possible.
I saw many perverse things when I was there. Far too many to explain. But I will highlight a few choice ones.
First, there was a sexy amputee dressed up as a character from a recent movie and exploiting the fact that she lost a leg, and it was so fucking hot. I have about ten minutes of videotape of disgustioids like myself drooling over her. Also, and this is sick, I saw these two Jonbenet types, little blonde littles, who were both wearing pink bathing suits and were obviously twin sisters. They were eating a french fry that they kept passing from one mouth to the other ala Lady and the Tramp, and it just looked like they were making out. This also went on for a full ten minutes, with the same french fry mind you, but I did not have the fortunate chance to document this with my video camera and I fear if I did it may put me in some kind of legal peril. Of course, there were 75 pedophiles hiding in the ceiling gazing at this weirdly unrehearsed act of perversion. Among other highlights was a very old man who looked like he was 2 seconds away from death in a wheelchair who turned out to be Ray Bradbury. He was so cute. And also I got the clap from Ernie Hudson… aka the black Ghostbuster Winston, aka the Warden from Oz (my favorite role). Those are some highlights.
However, my dears, I am not here to talk about those highlights. Instead, I will dwell on something more dark – a world much more foul and terrible... a world that on the surface looks innocent (like child beauty pageants to some, I guess), but is in fact so perverse even I feel dirty knowing it exists.
My entire life, I have been drawn to perversions of all types and thought I had some grasp of the good majority of them, but I totally misjudged everything. It started when I got to the convention. I started seeing them – small Asian girls with ears and hiked up skirts who already looked like they were underage, but they were trying extra hard to look like children. More and more of them surfaced until there were hundreds, maybe even a thousand of these girls walking around. But for every girl like this, there were at least 25 men. All, as I have explained, pockmarked and morbidly obese, all with little boners, sweating and drooling over each of these tiny princesses.
I was extremely intrigued by this, and honestly a bit jealous that I could not look that disgustingly young and did not have schoolgirl uniform and slanty eyes. I wanted to know the origin. I knew it had something to do with something Asian (good guess, right?), and probably somewhere around Japan because it is the most perverse and wonderful place in the entire universe. But that pretty much summed up my knowledge. Something Asian that fat, lonely men liked better than food and porn, but I also know it had to involve food and porn in some way or these fat men could not sustain their disgusting fatness.
Then I found it. I found a table full of it. Porno after porno... stuff I could not describe; stuff I never knew existed; stuff that I know if it did exist it would most certainly be super hidden and totally illegal, all sitting right before me at one of the table.
I picked one up. I think it was called "Pet Degradation" or something. It was a comic so it was all drawings, and it had this Asian child chained to a pole eating a white popsicle that was dripping all over her chin and her semi (very semi) clothed little body. And where her little special place was there was a big sticker that said "18+" over it. Although I am over 18, I can't help but think plenty of folks under the age of 18 may be able to speculate what was beneath that sticker.
I opened the book and found out what was under that sticker. I had guess right.
It had panel after panel of total inexplicable sexual deviance. It was so dirty even I, your slut in residence, felt like I had acted like Mother Teresa my entire life. All of my knowledge and horrible experiences went away when I focused my eyes upon those pages and pages of terribly perverse panels. I can't possibly begin to explain what this book contained, but if you ask, I can refer you to a website where you may purchase it all for your "self education." Sure, letting all you Sick Fucks know about such a thing is probably akin to dropping a hydrogen bomb, but then again I know that this stuff exists all over, and there was no one there protesting, or even commenting on it. It was all normal.
Naturally, I had to purchase as much of this stuff that my unemployed, broke ass could afford not only to satisfy the disgusting pervert that is me, but also as evidence to prove that this stuff fucking exists. I got it folks. Tons of it. Well, not really tons, but enough to sicken me for the next ten years (if I happen to live that long).
I can’t entirely explain why I had to buy them. I think it’s because I’ve always prided myself in knowing and having gone through so much… so much broken glass and bloody cum and molestation and touching of every sort. Obviously this is why I'm drawn and very put off, but also turned on, by this sort of stuff. It makes me sick that it really exists, and I really can't explain it, but I had to have it.
My brain is not even close to starting to wrap itself around this one. And I know there are plenty of people out there that love this stuff. Judging by the ones that could actually get their fat asses out of their houses and down to Southern California for the weekend, there must be a billion more fat asses that just sat at home and stared at their computers and typed something and received the same shit in the mail. I'm sorry for sounding like the Church Lady and Madonna. But I feel like a virgin again after witnessing this. DAMN.
Now, who wants to pop my newfound cherry?
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