Shameless and Irreverent
Homosexual and Proud
Perceptive and Obnoxious
Empathic and Naive
Romantic and Slutty
Loyal and Imperfect
I know how much you guys like to hear about my sexual escapades, but if you look at the top of your browser then you'll be reminded that there is often a second subject addressed in my epic stories of booze and regret. The following, sadly, is a tale of the latter with not much of the former. But fret not, because I assure you that this tale of unwarranted unemployment is as epic if not more epic than most of my sexual escapades and I can pretty much guarantee that by the end of this post you're going to wish you were there to see it happen. Fasten your seat belts and buckle up your strap-ons cause here's the story of how I got fired because of a dildo…
At this point in my life I've come to realize that I'm not really good at relationships. It's not my fault if you think about it because growing up I never had a well-functioning relationship in my family that I could watch and learn from. Unless you count my grandmother angrily washing dishes with the fire and furry of a thousand suns in her eyes, pretending to ignore the sound of "Burning Ring of Fire" by Jonny Cash being blared at a deafening level causing the entire house to shake healthy. So when I finally meet a guy that I'm interested in I unintentionally and do any and everything possible to fuck it up and I am once again left sad and alone with nothing but a bottle of red and monstercockland.com to keep me company. This, my dear friends, is yet another prime example of one of those instances…
On This Day In 2010
I've just discovered this wonderful new feature that Facebook has started called "On this day in 2010..." where it shows you on a side bar your status updates from this same date last year. Not sure yet the rhyme or reason for its appearance because it seems to live in the same place as "People you may know" and "Sponsored Pages" (aka: ads) but this morning I couldn't help but notice a status I had written on this day in 2010 about what I had been doing at Trapeze School and came to realize that today marks the one year anniversary of what I like to call my Broadway five-some.
For those of you who are avid "Getting Fucked and Getting Fired" followers, you know that I always use nicknames to protect the guilty, unless you REALLY piss me off or it happens to be a famous person. Well, Dumpcelo's nickname came at a time when I was working in a restaurant the entire staff referred to as "The Dump" and we spent the majority of our shifts making up songs and replacing key words with the word dump. Our punny song writing was amplified when one afternoon Skeletor (a manager who's nickname came from the fact that he was effeminate and emaciated... like Skeletor) asked me to clean the outside step to the restaurant so I threw on the nearest doo-rag (can I say that? Does that make me racist?) and gave you my best Cinderella impression. Needless to say this spawned a whole new genre of songs including my own personal favorite "A Lovely Dump!" Not so shockingly enough, Skeletor ended up letting me go after I put in my two weeks notice. Can't imagine why he didn't like me... Anyway, with that all being said, you will soon learn why I'm not actually going to use his nickname as I tell you how and why I wasted just over half a year thinking that Marcelo actually cared about me the way he often told me he did...
So recently I’ve found myself using Grindr much more than usual. Not that I’m actually hooking up with anyone (two in a span of three months which is good considering I know guys that have had three in the same day) but I recently came across a psycho Cuban Go-Go boy who reminded me of a fling a had a couple of years ago. Not psycho in the like Norman Bates or Buffalo Bill sense of the word, but psycho in that crazy possessive, jealous, “it always has to be about me” mentality that most Latin men suppress because they’d never be able to keep a man otherwise. Not-so-interesting story short he told me to stop texting him because it took me too long to answer a question, but not after he had sent me a full naked photo album and a couple of videos of him fucking some other guy (cause that’s a huge turn on apparently). Not that all Latin guys are like that, but the culture does tend to ere on the side of (for lack of a better word) clingy. Honestly I blame the mothers… A good friend of mine dated this whack-job Brazilian off and on for years and they were constantly getting in full-blown physical fights because the whack-job always thought my friend was sleeping around (even with me once, which is only funny because he’s probably the one friend I've never slept with) when in reality the whack-job prostitution whore was the one fucking one of his coworkers the entire time. And that, my dear friends, is why we do not date bartenders or go-go boys.
Win a Date With a Porn Star
OK, before we get started on this I think it’s best to dispel a couple of insinuations one might have about a sexually active person who has an affinity for large-membered Latin men. First of all, my shit is tight bitches! I’m sure there are a lot of guys out there who can sit on a telephone pole in one fail swoop and not think twice about it, but I’m very physically active which ensures that the muscles in that area snap right back into that firm place that they’re supposed to be. The most recent encounter I’ve had back there was with a disappointing Dominican who was smaller than myself (which is saying something) and I still had to do my lamaz breathing to make sure I didn’t get hurt. So, in case you were wondering, it does make a noise when I fart. Now that we have that out of the way, we can continue…
The Company Ink
The initial opening paragraph entry to this was a short but funny anecdote about how I didn't sleep with my manager last week but less than two hours after posting I got a call from my other manager basically threatening to fire me if I didn't change it. Story of my life... now please pull any and all sticks out of your ass and welcome to my blog.
Sex Party in the USA
Sorry it's been a while guys, but I gotta be honest with ya... 2012 was a bitch and I'm glad it's over. I know how much you guys like hearing about my escapades but sadly I didn't really have any this year so I'm once again resorting to writing about an old one. But believe me it's better this way... 2012 was mostly just a couple of fuck buddies, one emotionally unavailable prospective husband (you can guess why that didn't work out based on the description I'm sure), and a missed opportunity with one of Randy Blue's newest models because "I didn't wanna end up in your blog." Bitch please… what makes you think the sex would be good enough to end up here? ;-) There was the one guy on Fire Island who sent me a Grindr message just minutes after leaving my room and didn't even recognize me even though we had just hooked up (and you guys think I'm the whore), but in reality I spent the majority of my year auditioning my balls off and slinging just enough cocktails to get by. So here it is... my first and only experience at a sex party.
I was pretty excited for my first year at Bares. Honestly I got started in it for the same reason everyone else does, gratuitous nudity and validating some repressed mommy issues and using charity as an excuse to release the inner attention loving go-go boy that lives deep inside us all. But once I attended the orientation meeting and heard the stories from the people and organizations that Broadway Cares/Equity Fights AIDS helps I was moved more than I thought I could be and knew that this show was about so much more than what meets the eye. On top of that I was shocked and even more moved to see just how many of my friends were willing to donate for this wonderful cause.
Gindr? You Brought Her!
As most of you know by now, I have no issues divulging my personal experiences for the sake of entertaining the masses with my explicitly secual blog entries. So it can only stand to reason that I have taken it upon myself to use a popular hook-up application known as Grindr to do some gay culture social studying. Mind you, the only times I ever use the site for its intended purpose I’m either drunk or hungover and normally only log on out of boredom or when I’m in need of a self-esteem boost and the 14 Facebook pokes I got that day just aren’t doing it for me. But the conversations I’ve had with people combined with the conversations my friends have had leave me know choice but to write about it because honestly most of the shit that goes on there is just too damn funny to pass up.
I've decided to write about Ivan first because in addition to being one of the more entertaining Bares related stories, we are also no longer connected through any form of social media and haven't spoke in over a year so I figured "what the hell? fuck him!"
First off let me apologize for taking such a huge break. I would say I was busy but that's a total lie. It was more like laziness and a lack of anything interesting to write about. My time in Philly was mostly spent sitting on a couch in the green room playing games on my phone and swatting away 50+ year old roid-heads at the gay gym by the theater so other than a couple of drunken hook-ups (including the night before I came back to NYC) it was fairly uneventful in blog terms. I mean, when your tricks get nicknames like "Hair Plugs" and "Scrappy-Doo" it doesn't really leave me with much to write about. But Thanksgiving, however, was now officially the first day I got fucked AND fired in the same day. Not too shabby if I do say so myself. :)