Monday, July 21, 2008
Trans-substantiation
A while back, my dumb (now ex-) shrink told me that I should consider the possibility that I'm transgendered, on the basis that I like football, drink scotch, and fuck girls every so often. When he said this, I about fell off his couch. I was already getting annoyed with him because he kept wanting to talk about lesbian stuff, which I stated clearly many times is not a shrink-worthy issue for me. I kept trying to direct our discussion back to my nicotine addiction and the chronic post-abortion depression I've been suffering the last five years, and he just wouldn't get off the topic of bisexuality. I suspect this is because he was GETTING OFF on my bisexuality, which I could have dealt with had he not played the "do you think you might be transgendered?" card.
Granted, I recognize that there are many very masculine aspects to my personality, and I have a lot of interests (sports, hunting, fishing, Hemingway, action movies, porn, tits, the NFL, world domination, etc.) that have traditionally been the province of men. However, just because I like a lot of boy stuff doesn't mean that I actually want to BE a boy. In this day and age of modern feminism, I would think that just because a chick does some things that aren't traditionally feminine doesn't automatically mean that she is having some sort of gender identity crisis. I've certainly thought from time to time that it might be easier to be a man and get away with my behavior, and it would be fun to have a weiner, but when it comes right down to it, I'm totally comfortable with my female body. I would hardly be showing off my naked tits whenever possible if I wished I'd been born without them or was planning to chop them off. I can't recall a single occasion in which "I wish I were a boy" or "I'm trapped in the wrong body" thoughts ever crossed my mind, and I certainly have no desire to make the switch and make everyone start calling me "Ethan" or "Bobby" or "Colin," much less get a double mastectomy, take testosterone, and have my vagina turned inside out into a pathetically small penis. I have no problem with people who do, but I think that gender identity is something much deeper than what kind of liquor you drink or whether or not you like sports. I know plenty of dudes who don't like sports, drink fruity cocktails, and spend more money on skin care products than I do, and they're usually called "metrosexuals" rather than M2F trannies. I am perfectly content with my XX karyotype and the body that goes with it, so fuck you if you think that my aggressive personality means I am not.
Anyway, I had dinner Friday with my friend Miss Corbutt, and we were laughing about this.
"You know, Razzy, I have a bunch of pictures of you turning household objects into phallic symbols from back when we lived in Tacoma that might support the transgendered theory," she said. "I'm going to scan them and send them to you."
And so she did. While I'm not certain these substantiate the rumor that I'm secretly yearning to be a boy, they certainly prove that I have a huge case of penis envy. Take, for example, this photo of me working a hose from a summer getaway I took with a posse of Smith lesbians. I'm literally making it rain on myself:
And here's one that's even more incriminating, of me working in my garden and getting my she-male on. I suppose one could consider gardening to be a feminine hobby, but in spite of that I manned it up by locating a surrogate weiner while digging invading roots out of my roses:
It's a good thing my ex-shrink doesn't read this blog, because if he did, he'd probably feel really fucking validated.
Labels: gender bending, Miss Corbutt, Razzification, weiners
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
Daily Douchebag: shrinks
DOB: ???--the 1950s, probably
Occupation: getting off the fucking topic at hand
Hometown: ???--they never tell you anything personal
Current residence: for me, New York, New York or thereabouts
Douchebaggery: I'm not one who gets embarrassed about going to therapy. Sometimes I just need some professional assistance working out the kinks in my life, and that's nothing to be ashamed of. Right now for me, I've realized that I really, REALLY need to quit smoking. I know that I've quit so many times it's a running joke for everyone else, but this time it really absolutely has to happen. With my asthma making a comeback with a vengeance, I now have the option of either smoking or breathing. I no longer have the luxury of quitting smoke for health reasons that aren't immediately apparent. I'm at the crossroads of either recovery or COPD, and I'm choosing recovery. However, because I've tried and failed so many times to quit smoking, I decided to get some help this time around, so I'm seeing a shrink. Besides, I have other unresolved issues (ie: abortion) that stress me out and exacerbate the smoking situation, so it can't hurt to iron out those wrinkles in my life either.
I wanted to see a shrink who would put me on Wellbutrin XL, AKA Zyban when it's sold as an aid for smoking cessation, to assist me with the lengthy process of washing cigarettes the fuck out of my life. Columbia set me up with some guy who is supposedly good with "addiction issues" and who could help me. Our first session went pretty well, except for the fact that he seemed to think my being bisexual played a large role in my lifelong smoking habit. I disagreed, and said that my smoking "habit"--or, more accurately, debilitating addiction--was the result of my childhood stupidity and subsequent severe dependency on cigarettes. My resolve to quit is tested by stressful situations, and my coping with those constructively is further damaged by festering drama from my past such as the aforementioned trip to the family planning clinic. One thing that doesn't seem to affect my smoking is my sex life, and whether I'm doing dudes and/or chicks. I'm at the shrink for two things: Wellbutrin and stress management. I'm NOT here to take other aspects of my life that I'm just fine and dandy with and turn them into major fucking problems, which is what happened at our second and last session.
Yesterday, my shrink advised me that he was leaving Columbia, and sorry to bounce after my second visit, but he'll hook me up with another doctor who will help. While he tried to evaluate what kind of shrink would be best for that, I was surprised by some of the lines of questioning he pursued. Apparently, certain aspects of my personality--which he referred to as a "syndrome," like my personality is AIDS or something--are problems I didn't even know I had. For example, I was unaware that I'm secretly TRANSGENDERED because I drink scotch, like football, and fuck around, and these are male traits. Also, my parents may have something to do with this. Not sure what, since my parents are loving and supportive and still married to each other, and neither of them hit or molested me growing up, but they are involved somehow in the gender identity crisis I didn't know I was having.
Needless to say, yesterday I didn't get a lot done in terms of keeping my shrink on point with regard to smoking and other traumatic events from my life that start with "A" and rhyme with "kabortion" yesterday. I complained to LL Cool Jew while we were talking about whether or not scotch makes me TOO crazy, and this precipitated a tirade from her:
LL Cool Jew: those JWBs go down way too easy for you!
Razzy: i KNOW
LL Cool Jew: maybe you should call a moratorium on the scotchers
Razzy: NEVER
LL Cool Jew: to bring yourself back to fighting levels
Razzy: although today my shrink called me transgendered on the basis of my scotch drinking
LL Cool Jew: transgendered?
Razzy: yes, i apparently like "male" things
LL Cool Jew: that's a stupid thing to say
Razzy: i was like, "NO WAY AM I CHANGING MY NAME TO MAX"
Razzy: "OR JULIAN"
Razzy: "OR ETHAN"
LL Cool Jew: cmon how about ezra?
Razzy:: i know, i thought it was dumb too
LL Cool Jew: but seriously
LL Cool Jew: that's a pretty wacktastic thing to say
Razzy: i was like, "dude, i'm totally comfortable in my body"
Razzy: well he's leaving columbia so this was our last sesh
Razzy: his conclusion: "i'm extremely complicated"
LL Cool Jew: it's not only obtuse, it's also disrespectful to be joking about a serious issue to you
Razzy: i don't think he was joking
LL Cool Jew: well then it's straight up fucktarded
Razzy: it's yet "another facet to your already extremely multifaceted complex personality"
LL Cool Jew: i call bullshit
Razzy: basically, i'm too confusing for him
LL Cool Jew: i'm glad that guy's gone
Razzy:: like i said, i'm getting a new shrink regardless
LL Cool Jew: you deserve somebody better than that
Razzy: i actually thought he was okay for the most part
Razzy: i don't think his expertise is sexuality issues
Razzy: he always seems out of his element when i'm talking about being bisexual
Razzy: he's like, "let's talk more about that"
LL Cool Jew: then he should keep his bright ideas to himself
Razzy: : i'm all, "dude, i'm totally fine with that. let's talk about MY SMOKING ADDICTION, that's why i'm here"
LL Cool Jew: these shrinks always think the queerness is a much bigger deal than in reality it is
Razzy: TRULY
Razzy: and i'm like hardly even queer!
LL Cool Jew: i always wanted to be like, look, i know this is a real trip for you because you're a boomer
LL Cool Jew: but for rizzle, i have never felt bad about being a lesbian
Razzy: i think he's trying to read too much into my "male" habits and the fact that i bang broads every so often
LL Cool Jew: and now i don't feel particularly bad about being straight
Razzy: i did long ago, in catholic school
Razzy: but now, FUCK THAT, i have no issues at all
Razzy: my issues are SMOKING and ABORTIONS!
LL Cool Jew: they always want to read more into it
Razzy: yeah today we had a 20 minute pointless convo about my parents' marriage
Razzy: i was like, "uh, back to the smoking, please"
LL Cool Jew: they think it's just got to be screwing with your emotions
LL Cool Jew: not really
LL Cool Jew: see, and there's another one
LL Cool Jew: if your parents are together, they want to talk about how they can identify weaknesses in their marriage in your personality flaws
Razzy: i'm like "KNOW WHAT'S REALLY SCREWING WITH ME...*SMOKING AND ABORTIONS*!
LL Cool Jew: if your parents arent together, they want to make "broken homes" into some big damn deal
Razzy:: exax
LL Cool Jew: it's not a mystery why i am unhappy
LL Cool Jew: i want to quit smoking
LL Cool Jew: if i quit smoking i bet i'd feel pretty hot about myself
LL Cool Jew: after i lost the 30 pounds i gained quitting of course
Razzy: then he was reading a lot into the fact that i don't care whether my new shrink that he's referring me to is male or female
LL Cool Jew: for god's sake
Razzy: i was like, no dude, i seriously don't care, as long as they can help me with the smoking
LL Cool Jew: this guy needs to get wuith the program
Razzy: i finally told him, "I'm bi-psychiatrist"
Razzy:"just like i'm bisexual"
Razzy: he thought that was funny
LL Cool Jew: you're like
LL Cool Jew: can they prescribe medication?
LL Cool Jew: then great.
Razzy: well exactly
Razzy: i was like the one thing i need
Razzy: is someone to keep the wellbutrin coming
LL Cool Jew: god
Razzy: AND WHO WANTS TO TALK ABOUT SMOKING AND ABORTIONS!
LL Cool Jew: you are so bringing me back dude.
LL Cool Jew: some of these shrinks just don't have a clue
Razzy: for real
LL Cool Jew: f'ing BOOMERS man
Razzy: i think my guy thought i was "very interesting"
LL Cool Jew:: they are hellbent on destroying us!
Razzy: because i'm "so extremely complex"
LL Cool Jew: well isn't everybody
Razzy:: bleeecccch
LL Cool Jew: isn't that the POINT
Razzy: i KNOW
Razzy: i was like, "glad i'm special but I NEED TO QUIT SMOKING!"
Razzy: i had to work hard to keep dr. stein on track
LL Cool Jew: wouldn't it be awesome if the shrink were just like
LL Cool Jew: wow you are a very straightforward individual with identified problems
LL Cool Jew: let's work on those
Razzy: TRULY
LL Cool Jew: see if anything else comes up
Razzy: i mean
Razzy: i mean, i'm giving my history
Razzy: colorfully, as is my habit
LL Cool Jew: if we're trying to hide something, that's one thing
LL Cool Jew: but YOU of all people don't try to hide ANYTHING.
Razzy: and the second i say, "i'm bisexual"
Razzy: he's like "when did you realize you were bisexual?"
Razzy: VOMIT
Razzy: i don't fucking know!
LL Cool Jew: stop the presses
Razzy: forever!
Razzy: i banged a chick first
Razzy: but then a dude immediately after
LL Cool Jew: let me waste your valuable 45 minutes talking about ancillary BS
Razzy: like WHO CARES
LL Cool Jew: they just don't want to hear that you're comfortable with it
LL Cool Jew: they WON'T believe it
LL Cool Jew: it's not possible in the boomer mind
Razzy: i KNOW
LL Cool Jew: because THEY still hate gays
Razzy: like, "in my time, people were so ostracized, shouldn't you be too?"
LL Cool Jew: OR, they really enjoy talking about their gay friends
LL Cool Jew: yes, "at my high school, we beat up tons of fags...how do YOU feel about ME?"
Razzy: ugh
LL Cool Jew: anyway
LL Cool Jew: glad that guy's moving on
Razzy: truly
Razzy: i hope his replacement is kewler
LL Cool Jew: you have to watch tehm
LL Cool Jew: tell them upfront
Razzy: totz, keep them on track
LL Cool Jew: they will waste your time otherwise
Razzy: truly
Razzy: i'm like, "back to the smoking"
Razzy: "back to the smoking"
LL Cool Jew: other things may come up as we address the reason you're there
LL Cool Jew: which is normal
LL Cool Jew: but you shouldn't be asked to take grandiose sidesteps from the issue at hand
LL Cool Jew: or worse yet
LL Cool Jew: CONVINCE them on teh points where you're already OKAY
Razzy: EXACTLY
LL Cool Jew: why do you have to convince them?
Razzy: like i definitely don't need to be told i'm having a gender identity crisis
Razzy: BECAUSE I'M NOT
LL Cool Jew: you're willing enough to share about your real problems
LL Cool Jew: who could possibly think that you were having a gender identity crisis?
LL Cool Jew: if you really wanted to be a dude
LL Cool Jew: i doubt you'd have LONG FLOWING CHERRY PIE BLONDE HAIR
Razzy: well truly
LL Cool Jew: or flash your tits all the time
Razzy: i know, i was like "i'm REALLY comfortable with my body"
LL Cool Jew: well maybe this next person will be respectful enough to take you seriously
LL Cool Jew: when you tell them you sincerely need help with certain things
Razzy: i hope so
LL Cool Jew: and not waste a bunch of your time getting bi sex stories to titillate and wow themselves
Razzy: TRULY
Razzy: well that's it
Razzy: i was like, "do i really need to go into detail about all the various methods and things by which i do it with girls?"
LL Cool Jew: no, not at all, it's completely irrelevant
Razzy: i mean, jesus
Razzy: not telling you about my strap-on, you perv
LL Cool Jew: that is so disgusting
LL Cool Jew: wasting your mental health HMO time getting his rocks off
Razzy: actually, though, i think my guy may have been confused about whether or not i actually f girls
Razzy: or just think making out with them and kissing is sex
LL Cool Jew: what difference does that make????????
Razzy: i assured him that my sex life with women is very below the belt
Razzy: BUT BACK TO SMOKING AND ABORTIONS
LL Cool Jew: this really pisses me off
LL Cool Jew: it's totz bringing me back to the dc shrink who tried to date me
Razzy: OH and then today
Razzy: he was all
Razzy: "so you've had sex with quite a few men"
LL Cool Jew:: ok
Razzy: when i was like "i f'd 62 dudes"
Razzy: i was like "right"
Razzy: dr. stein: "why do you think that is?"
Razzy: I DON'T KNOW, I LIKE TO FUCK!
LL Cool Jew: are you a sex addict as well as being a tranny boi now?
LL Cool Jew: pronounced tranny BWA in louisiana of course
Razzy: i must be
LL Cool Jew: i bet your male counterpart on his couch didn't get that question
LL Cool Jew: asshole
Razzy: SERIOUSLY
LL Cool Jew: angie, i am so livid about this, it's kind of ridic.
Razzy: well i'm done with dr. stein
LL Cool Jew: thank god
Razzy: so don't worry
LL Cool Jew: please don't hold him against my people.
Razzy: i'll date some other inadequate shrink
Razzy: dr. stein is recommending someone with expertise in treating addictions
Razzy: which is what i requested
LL Cool Jew: \m/
Razzy: exax
Razzy: so he did listen
Razzy: enough
LL Cool Jew: \m/ \m/
LL Cool Jew: sorry
LL Cool Jew: i love the devil hands
Razzy: after he told me i'm a F2M SLIZUT!
LL Cool Jew: well his opinion matters for shit
Razzy: well for real
Razzy: like i said
LL Cool Jew: i hate his gutses
Razzy: AIN'T NO WAY I'M CHOPPING OFF MY TITS AND ANSWERING TO "BOBBY"
So needless to say, I still need a shrink since I was so busy trying to explain to my old one that a few scotches don't necessarily equate to a F2M tranny, my slutty habits have nothing to do with smoking (except possibly that I smoke cigarettes for some of the same reasons I smoke pole--I'm orally fixated), and we didn't even really get to the abortion stuff. Hopefully my next one will be a little more on track. Goddamn shrinks.
Labels: Daily Douchebag, gender bending, lezbollah, LL Cool Jew, sex, sluts
Monday, April 07, 2008
Memoirs of a Hired Twink
Apparently in Japan, the new hot thing for successful women to spend their money on is a "geisha guy," an effeminate companion who will drink champagne with them and say stuff like, "Oooh, girl, those shoes are FIERCE."
Per the article in CNN:
I wouldn't expect anything besides the word "effete" to describe a fella who says the main perk of his high-paying job is indulging in a daily root touch-up and blow-out. Can't businesswomen in Japan afford better than this androgynous metrosexual she-male in terms of company for the evening? Note to self: Japan is definitely a BYO-gigolo situation for girls like me who like their weiners cut from more masculine cloth.
Per the article in CNN:
TOKYO, Japan (CNN) -- At first glance, the man and woman at the nightclub look like any other couple on a date. He flirts and pours champagne. She looks at him and laughs.So, in other words, instead of paying for some hot dude to dick them properly, these ladies are forking over up to 50 grand a night for the privilege of being a fag hag? I mean, seriously. I'd rather pay for a trip or buy something--namely a more masculine male escort--than waste those yen on an evening with a metrosexual girly-boy like Yunosuke:
This isn't a date, though. It's business.
The woman, a successful executive, has joined a growing number of professional women in Japan in forking out from $1,000 to $50,000 a night for male companionship.
They meet their "hosts" in hundreds of clubs that have sprung up around Tokyo - the industry says only compliments are exchanged. The women pay for a man to lavish them with undivided attention.
"There's nothing wrong with a woman paying to be entertained by a man," one female client says. "It's just another step in equality."
It's a dizzying reversal of traditional gender roles in a country long known for geishas pampering male clients with conversation, singing and dancing. Now a new breed of entertainer has cropped up -- think of them as male geishas.
"I give women things that men normally don't do, like complimenting their appearance," says one host, 24-year-old Yunosuke, who only goes by his single host name. "I make women happy."
And they make him happy: Yunosuke says he earned more than $200,000 last year, enough to let him visit a salon once a day to have his hair dyed and blow-dried.
"Women see us as one of their accessories," he says. "They like to wear nice things, so I try to look prettier for them all the time."
What drives the business boom is an increase in the earning power of Japanese women, according to Air Group, a company that owns a chain of "host" clubs.
"Japanese women are now working hard and making more money," says Yuko Takeyama, a woman in her early 30s who manages Air Group. "They see this as a way to de-stress."
Women love being treated well without the pressures that come with dating, she says. Yunosuke's customer from the nightclub agrees.
"This is a gift for myself," she says. "It's the same as spending money on a trip or buying something."
Labels: gender bending, international intrigue, perversion, ridiculous absurdity, sluts
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
Important Details
As I was perusing the gossip internets today, I noticed that some sites were talking about Jonathan Rhys Meyers (and the serious gay face he's giving) on the cover of next month's issue of Details magazine.
Pretty fagtacular if you ask me, but that's how Details rolls. All the men's magazines have their gimmick; Maxim and FHM always have some slutty chick giving serious fuck-me face, GQ always has some snobby movie star looking smug, and Details always has a snobby movie star looking smug and metrosexual to the point of being straight-up gay. If I were them, I'd put John Rhys Davies--AKA Salah from the Indiana Jones movies and Gimli son of Gloin from LOTR--on the cover instead since he pretty much dominates the market in terms of virile, masculine guys named John Rhys. However, I guess that Details readers prefer this queen sticking out his DSLs at them, so that must be why I'm stuck in the purgatory of grad school and not balling like the editor of Details.
Apart from the effeminate piece on the cover, I do have to commend the editors of Details because they have otherwise put together a useful magazine. Men's magazines are so much better than women's. To illustrate this, compare the cover of Details to the cover of this month's Cosmopolitan.
Details has a mix of practical information that men can use. There's an intriguing report on some American on trial for war crimes, a tip on how to keep your parents from overspending in their retirement, and some advice on how to conduct oneself professionally. As far as trashy sex stuff, Details has me feeling cheerful in knowing that the market for blondes starring in dudes' sexual fantasies is booming. Cosmo, on the other hand, has an entire cover filled with useless, uninformative crap. Sure, with all that sex talk, it SEEMS intriguing, but I've been suckered in by Cosmo's claims before and know that their promises of unraveling the mysteries of sex are FALSE. There's nothing new here; Cosmo is selling the same old sex-tip snake oil. "Guys' Sex Confessions: Surprising stuff they don't want from you in the sack" and "100 Outrageous Facts About Men" are both articles which probably take a long time to inform the reader that of the same thing: basically, guys like blowjobs, they don't like girls who get too clingy, and not all of them want to do you up the butt. "Bed me eyes" translates to "smoky eye makeup" and "the hottest thing to do to a man with your hands" probably is step-by-step instructions on how to give a great back and/or foot massage, or cook for his ass. "I Know What Your Boyfriend Did Last Night?" Unless what he did was me, I'm thinking nothing but "zzzzzzz" about that article. And "why be a jealous bitch?" is a question probably answered by some bitter, freshly dumped bitch explaining that all men are oversexed, lying, fiendish dogs who you shouldn't trust and who you should be constantly and unpleasantly suspicious of. And finally, if I need breaking news on the period front, I'm turning to my gynecologist, not Cosmo. Even the boring soldier biographies promised by Details sound more intriguing than that. And certainly I'd rather know if I'm dating a "tweenager" than what my "sex style" is, if only because I already know that I fuck like a tiger and don't need some quiz to tell me so, and because I'd not only like to know what a "tweenager" is, I'd like to know how to avoid fucking one because it sounds bad and illegal. Like I said, the men's magazine actually has some information that actually serves a useful purpose.
Seriously, the only useful tips Cosmo does have in it are some examples of stuff that bitches are wearing these days, and that is only marginally helpful for me since I don't give a fuck about the latest purses or whatever, and I'm too poor to be much of a clothes horse anyway. I think this sucks. Women's magazines need to get their acts together, if only because even bitches like me who never read them have maxed out on the number of useful sex tips we can glean from their glossy pages. To date, the only unique piece of information I've ever gotten from Cosmo was the knowledge that apparently, some women have orgasms every time they sneeze. After reading about some poor woman suffering from this condition (and trust, while that might be cool at first, I can see how that could really be embarrassing in certain situations, like church, funerals, work meetings, etc.) in a Cosmo Q&A column, I was like, "Damn, I've never heard of that before." That time was unique and has yet to be duplicated. Excepting the sneeze-orgasmer, I've yet to find anything interesting or useful in the pages of Cosmo or any other of the similar crap marketed to chicks. Women's magazines blow harder than the bitches applying their tips on how to please your man.
Apart from the effeminate piece on the cover, I do have to commend the editors of Details because they have otherwise put together a useful magazine. Men's magazines are so much better than women's. To illustrate this, compare the cover of Details to the cover of this month's Cosmopolitan.
Details has a mix of practical information that men can use. There's an intriguing report on some American on trial for war crimes, a tip on how to keep your parents from overspending in their retirement, and some advice on how to conduct oneself professionally. As far as trashy sex stuff, Details has me feeling cheerful in knowing that the market for blondes starring in dudes' sexual fantasies is booming. Cosmo, on the other hand, has an entire cover filled with useless, uninformative crap. Sure, with all that sex talk, it SEEMS intriguing, but I've been suckered in by Cosmo's claims before and know that their promises of unraveling the mysteries of sex are FALSE. There's nothing new here; Cosmo is selling the same old sex-tip snake oil. "Guys' Sex Confessions: Surprising stuff they don't want from you in the sack" and "100 Outrageous Facts About Men" are both articles which probably take a long time to inform the reader that of the same thing: basically, guys like blowjobs, they don't like girls who get too clingy, and not all of them want to do you up the butt. "Bed me eyes" translates to "smoky eye makeup" and "the hottest thing to do to a man with your hands" probably is step-by-step instructions on how to give a great back and/or foot massage, or cook for his ass. "I Know What Your Boyfriend Did Last Night?" Unless what he did was me, I'm thinking nothing but "zzzzzzz" about that article. And "why be a jealous bitch?" is a question probably answered by some bitter, freshly dumped bitch explaining that all men are oversexed, lying, fiendish dogs who you shouldn't trust and who you should be constantly and unpleasantly suspicious of. And finally, if I need breaking news on the period front, I'm turning to my gynecologist, not Cosmo. Even the boring soldier biographies promised by Details sound more intriguing than that. And certainly I'd rather know if I'm dating a "tweenager" than what my "sex style" is, if only because I already know that I fuck like a tiger and don't need some quiz to tell me so, and because I'd not only like to know what a "tweenager" is, I'd like to know how to avoid fucking one because it sounds bad and illegal. Like I said, the men's magazine actually has some information that actually serves a useful purpose.
Seriously, the only useful tips Cosmo does have in it are some examples of stuff that bitches are wearing these days, and that is only marginally helpful for me since I don't give a fuck about the latest purses or whatever, and I'm too poor to be much of a clothes horse anyway. I think this sucks. Women's magazines need to get their acts together, if only because even bitches like me who never read them have maxed out on the number of useful sex tips we can glean from their glossy pages. To date, the only unique piece of information I've ever gotten from Cosmo was the knowledge that apparently, some women have orgasms every time they sneeze. After reading about some poor woman suffering from this condition (and trust, while that might be cool at first, I can see how that could really be embarrassing in certain situations, like church, funerals, work meetings, etc.) in a Cosmo Q&A column, I was like, "Damn, I've never heard of that before." That time was unique and has yet to be duplicated. Excepting the sneeze-orgasmer, I've yet to find anything interesting or useful in the pages of Cosmo or any other of the similar crap marketed to chicks. Women's magazines blow harder than the bitches applying their tips on how to please your man.
Labels: gender bending, intentional buffoonery, ranting, sluts, vulgar display of faggotry
Friday, October 05, 2007
Jenna does Arlen Specter
Senator Arlen Specter (R-PA) may have been born at a time when the great woolly mammoth still roamed free and the wheel hadn't yet been invented, but that doesn't mean he's not a man of the modern era. His moderate stands on issues--like his questioning of whether Clinton's infamous blow job was really impeachment-worthy and his support of Senator Larry Craig's game of gay footsie with an undercover vice cop in the Minneapolis airport men's room--show that he's not your average hating-on-modern-sexual-values type of Republican.
He demonstrated this forward-thinking attitude when Jenna Jameson showed up at the Capitol last week. Once it was established that she was Jenna Jameson the famous Queen of Porn and not Gollum nee Smeagol looking to steal the Precious from nasty hobbitses, she was introduced to an intern from Senator Specter's office, who the Washington Post reports graciously gave her a tour of our hallowed halls of Congress.
Whether or not she actually got some face time with the senator is anyone's guess, but an intrepid reporter named Paul Kane from the Post did ask. The Senator apparently hasn't seen classics like Vajenna, Cherry Pie, and Lickety Slit. He was confused and thought this had something to do with the military.
But alas, Jenna's since had her tits ripped out and recycled the silicone for some of the most heinous facial prosthetics imaginable, and concomitantly developed a rip-roaring case of anorexia. Senator Specter, at his age, should not have to cope with the cardiovascular consequences of coming face to face with a distorted succubus escaped from whichever level of hell the busted trannies live on:
The sad thing is, I think that Jenna could probably do a better job in Iraq than the current jackasses running that shitshow. She could just show her rearranged face, collapsing tits, and prominent scapulae and frighten the insurgents into submission without firing a shot. I would certainly approve of her as a military leader more than her current post-porn job of runway modeling. In fact, that sounds like a win-win. The troops will withdraw (and/or run screaming) from Iraq and Gollum will no longer be uglying up Fashion Week. Fire Petraeus and bring in General Jameson!
He demonstrated this forward-thinking attitude when Jenna Jameson showed up at the Capitol last week. Once it was established that she was Jenna Jameson the famous Queen of Porn and not Gollum nee Smeagol looking to steal the Precious from nasty hobbitses, she was introduced to an intern from Senator Specter's office, who the Washington Post reports graciously gave her a tour of our hallowed halls of Congress.
Whether or not she actually got some face time with the senator is anyone's guess, but an intrepid reporter named Paul Kane from the Post did ask. The Senator apparently hasn't seen classics like Vajenna, Cherry Pie, and Lickety Slit. He was confused and thought this had something to do with the military.
"I don't recognize that name. Who? General Jameson?" Specter asked.That just shows that with Specter's great age comes great wisdom. Most people think Jenna Jameson and fondly recall her glory days:
"No, sir, Jenna. She's, well, she's kind of an actress, in, well, uh, the adult film industry," Kane explained.
"Paul, do you mean pornos?" Specter chuckled.
"Yes, senator, that's what we'd call it."
"I don't think I'm meeting her," Specter said.
Labels: gender bending, media whores, oh the horror, politics, porn, you're ugly
Monday, August 06, 2007
Eddie Murphy is no longer alone
It looks like Scary Spice's baby daddy has a new "poker buddy" in the form of Calvin "Snoop Dogg" Broadus. This is Snoop and Vaniity, a Mexican tranny porn star, getting cozy.
I'm not buying this "I didn't know she was a man" line that guys like to pull when they get caught indulging in a little she-male action. Snoop has expanded his marketing empire into pornography, so this picture was probably taken at an industry party where it's no secret that Vaniity was originally named Pedro, as she took home the 2004 AVN Award for Best Transsexual Performer. Furthermore, Vaniity is pre-op as far as her nether genitalia is concerned, so Snoop must have felt her porn star dick rubbing against his leg through her miniskirt. No wonder he came out of the gate talking about putting his nuts on other dudes' tonsils. He probably really did want to get a BJ from all the men of Ruthless Records.
I can't wait to hear what kind of lame excuse Snoop gives to explain why he's copping a feel on a tranny. Eddie Murphy gave some kind of unbelievable schtick about being a Good Samaritan and a mentor when he got busted pulled over on a dark street with a known (and obvious) M2F ho. I've seen dudes on "To Catch a Predator" giving more credible explanations for why they wrote "i luv doing anal w 14yo gurls omg lol" than this "I didn't know she was a prostitute or biologically a man, I was just trying to convince her that dropping out of school was a mistake" bullshit. Whatever similarly unconvincing alibi Snoop has, don't believe it. Dude occasionally likes a schlong in a lacy thong. End of story.
I can't wait to hear what kind of lame excuse Snoop gives to explain why he's copping a feel on a tranny. Eddie Murphy gave some kind of unbelievable schtick about being a Good Samaritan and a mentor when he got busted pulled over on a dark street with a known (and obvious) M2F ho. I've seen dudes on "To Catch a Predator" giving more credible explanations for why they wrote "i luv doing anal w 14yo gurls omg lol" than this "I didn't know she was a prostitute or biologically a man, I was just trying to convince her that dropping out of school was a mistake" bullshit. Whatever similarly unconvincing alibi Snoop has, don't believe it. Dude occasionally likes a schlong in a lacy thong. End of story.
Labels: gender bending, overcompensation, porn, rap, sex, vanity, vulgar display of faggotry, weiners
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
Stick Wit sUicide
For some reason, after Dateline's "To Catch a Predator" ended, I flipped the channel over to the CW network where "The Pussycat Dolls Present: Search for the Next Doll" or whatever that show is called was on. I have no idea why I ended up watching this instead of Primetime's expose of up-and-coming porn stars, except that I caught a glimpse of Lil' Kim as I was channel surfing by, and my jaw just dropped. That bitch is fatter every time I see her. She's expanding like a fucking Hungry Jack biscuit in a hot oven. I swear to God she got lupus from her leaking breast implant and is now taking massive doses of steroids; she can't really be that fat now, can she?
Anyway, my fascination with the transformation of Lil' Kim into Mo'Nique got me to watch 5 minutes of this show, and it transfixed me with its train wreckishness. The girls, who all cry at the slightest provocation when their lackluster performance of "Buttons" failed to win excessive praise from their "mentor", the slut who currently sings lead for the Pussycat Dolls, are complete and total fucking morons. They make the girls on "Top Model" look like the committee of scientists working on the Manhattan Project in comparison. It's almost like the number one criterion for being cast was being utterly vapid.
Even better is when these bitches in their gangsta-font "PCD" wife beaters and cocked fedoras start rattling off Pussycat Dolls talking points to the judges about how they're here to be a "role model" (as opposed to "clap-spreading attention whore") because the Dolls are all about female empowerment and independence. And nothing says "womyn power" like a camel toe and a "Property of Stick Wit U" midriff-baring scoop-neck baby tee. At least it measures up to my old professor Saratoga120's interpretation of feminist actualization: "when there are many mediocre women as there are mediocre men in important, visible, or powerful positions." When I see Saratoga120 at LL Cool Jew's upcoming wedding, I'll inform her that finally gender equity has been achieved in the music industry and cite this as the most compelling piece of evidence.
The girls can't hold a candle in the "hot mess" department compared to the Pussycat Dolls' creator and producer, choreographer Robin Antin. I can state unequivocally that Robin Antin DEFINITELY AND FOR SURE was once a man. This isn't just a s/he-has-an-Adam's-apple kind of tranny. S/he looks like David Leisure (thespian noted for his work on "Empty Nest" and the seminal "Joe Isuzu" ad campaign) with one of Tyra Banks's discarded weaves on his/her head. S/he may not have had his/her gender reassigned as an adult, but I can picture him/her being one of those babies born a hermaphrodite, whose parents just picked a sex and ran with it when s/he was a baby. Whatever the scientific explanation, bitch definitely is packing a Y chromosome.
Bolstering the medical anomaly argument is Robin's general demeanor. The way she nods vigorously while smiling this vacant, open-mouthed grin makes me wonder if s/he didn't spend childhood riding the short bus with Corky Thatcher. Something is definitely amiss upstairs when a person shows that much primal, drooling, mouth-breathing joy listening to a trio of fake-titted, overtanned prostitutes perform atrocious covers of Ciara's "One, Two Step."
And then there's the aforementioned used-to-be-Lil' Kim. This woman, known for irresistable seduction lines such as "somethin' I wanted, but I never was pushy, the motherfucker never ate my pussy" and "I dug him, so I fucked him, it wasn't nothin'...he wanted me to suck him but I didn't, I ain't frontin'", actually lectures these bitches on how to be desirable. She acts like she's in fact cornered the market on sex appeal. John D. Rockefeller had oil, J.P. Morgan had railroads and banks, and Lil' Kim has sexiness? Sha right. The woman looks like she just ate an entire Popeye's, and I mean the ENTIRE restaurant, including the building. Furthermore, I think the CW was so busy dressing the contestants in PCD branded hooker wear that they forgot to budget for Lil' Kim's wardrobe, because she's wearing what looks like the same busted orange top that she's worn for virtually every TV appearance since she emerged from the federal penitentiary. She looks like a really slutty version of the Great Fucking Pumpkin, and don't get me started on her hair. Her wig looks like it was made of chicken wire, papier mache, and numerous coats of some sort of shellacking agent. My money's on Epoxy.
Don't watch this show. For weeks I've been referring to it as "Search for the Next Pussyclot Doll" to amuse J-Sexy. "Pussyclot" is a term in Jamaican patois that literally means "maxi-pad", but is often as an adjective to make an insult even more derogatory (ie: "you pussyclot motherfucker"). In this case, it is totally fitting. Unless you are feeling particularly masochistic, I would avoid this shit like the herpes the contestants are probably spreading around Los Angeles in their spare time. Jumping off a bridge would be a better use of your time.
Anyway, my fascination with the transformation of Lil' Kim into Mo'Nique got me to watch 5 minutes of this show, and it transfixed me with its train wreckishness. The girls, who all cry at the slightest provocation when their lackluster performance of "Buttons" failed to win excessive praise from their "mentor", the slut who currently sings lead for the Pussycat Dolls, are complete and total fucking morons. They make the girls on "Top Model" look like the committee of scientists working on the Manhattan Project in comparison. It's almost like the number one criterion for being cast was being utterly vapid.
Even better is when these bitches in their gangsta-font "PCD" wife beaters and cocked fedoras start rattling off Pussycat Dolls talking points to the judges about how they're here to be a "role model" (as opposed to "clap-spreading attention whore") because the Dolls are all about female empowerment and independence. And nothing says "womyn power" like a camel toe and a "Property of Stick Wit U" midriff-baring scoop-neck baby tee. At least it measures up to my old professor Saratoga120's interpretation of feminist actualization: "when there are many mediocre women as there are mediocre men in important, visible, or powerful positions." When I see Saratoga120 at LL Cool Jew's upcoming wedding, I'll inform her that finally gender equity has been achieved in the music industry and cite this as the most compelling piece of evidence.
The girls can't hold a candle in the "hot mess" department compared to the Pussycat Dolls' creator and producer, choreographer Robin Antin. I can state unequivocally that Robin Antin DEFINITELY AND FOR SURE was once a man. This isn't just a s/he-has-an-Adam's-apple kind of tranny. S/he looks like David Leisure (thespian noted for his work on "Empty Nest" and the seminal "Joe Isuzu" ad campaign) with one of Tyra Banks's discarded weaves on his/her head. S/he may not have had his/her gender reassigned as an adult, but I can picture him/her being one of those babies born a hermaphrodite, whose parents just picked a sex and ran with it when s/he was a baby. Whatever the scientific explanation, bitch definitely is packing a Y chromosome.
Bolstering the medical anomaly argument is Robin's general demeanor. The way she nods vigorously while smiling this vacant, open-mouthed grin makes me wonder if s/he didn't spend childhood riding the short bus with Corky Thatcher. Something is definitely amiss upstairs when a person shows that much primal, drooling, mouth-breathing joy listening to a trio of fake-titted, overtanned prostitutes perform atrocious covers of Ciara's "One, Two Step."
And then there's the aforementioned used-to-be-Lil' Kim. This woman, known for irresistable seduction lines such as "somethin' I wanted, but I never was pushy, the motherfucker never ate my pussy" and "I dug him, so I fucked him, it wasn't nothin'...he wanted me to suck him but I didn't, I ain't frontin'", actually lectures these bitches on how to be desirable. She acts like she's in fact cornered the market on sex appeal. John D. Rockefeller had oil, J.P. Morgan had railroads and banks, and Lil' Kim has sexiness? Sha right. The woman looks like she just ate an entire Popeye's, and I mean the ENTIRE restaurant, including the building. Furthermore, I think the CW was so busy dressing the contestants in PCD branded hooker wear that they forgot to budget for Lil' Kim's wardrobe, because she's wearing what looks like the same busted orange top that she's worn for virtually every TV appearance since she emerged from the federal penitentiary. She looks like a really slutty version of the Great Fucking Pumpkin, and don't get me started on her hair. Her wig looks like it was made of chicken wire, papier mache, and numerous coats of some sort of shellacking agent. My money's on Epoxy.
Don't watch this show. For weeks I've been referring to it as "Search for the Next Pussyclot Doll" to amuse J-Sexy. "Pussyclot" is a term in Jamaican patois that literally means "maxi-pad", but is often as an adjective to make an insult even more derogatory (ie: "you pussyclot motherfucker"). In this case, it is totally fitting. Unless you are feeling particularly masochistic, I would avoid this shit like the herpes the contestants are probably spreading around Los Angeles in their spare time. Jumping off a bridge would be a better use of your time.
Labels: celebrities, fat fucks, gender bending, Lil' Kim, media whores, oh the horror, pro-apocalyptic zeitgeist, ranting, sluts, TV
Tuesday, December 19, 2006
Dude does NOT look like a lady
So the dedicated and ferocious Razzyphile BigWig has graciously provided a link to what I assume is a picture of the Indian sprinter being stripped of his/her Asian Games silver medal in the women's 800 meter race for "failing a gender test." I figured that this sprinter would be more of the type who looked like my ex-girlfriend from high school: a little too tall and muscular, and lacking feminine curviness, but still undoubtedly female and probably getting laid like the sultan of Dubai at lesbian bars for her butchiness. While my high school ex is a tad on the androgynous side (and I think these days it's a look she's embraced), I can say that I've personally performed a gender test on her in the course of our teenage experimenting, and she passed the plumbing portion of the exam.
The Indian track star, however, is undeniably a dude. I've seen drag hookers in the Meatpacking district who are less obviously male than this person. I can't even imagine how s/he got into women's international competition in the first place. Granted, I bet that openly transgendered people are much more of a rarity in India than they are here, and I bet it's also harder to get the hormones and surgeries needed to make the switch, but it's like this dude didn't even try. It reminds me of those bitches at Smith that would cut their hair and rename themselves Colin or Bobby or Julian, and then expect everyone to immediately refer to them with masculine pronouns without explaining themselves. I got into trouble with several Smith trannies back in the day because of such confusion, and to this day I'm still uncertain when a half-assed tranny crosses my path how to properly address them (ie: Miss J, judge, runway walking coach, and instigator of idiot Tyra Banks behavior from "America's Next Top Model.") Santhi Soudarajan seemingly just expected everyone to take his word for it that s/he's a chick, without really putting any effort into ensuring that the transformation is complete. Maybe it's hard to schedule an Adam's apple shaving with a New Delhi plastic surgeon, but at the very least, wear some WOMEN'S CLOTHES, dumbass! That's the least you can do before you try to pass yourself off as female in international competitions. See for yourself:
She's a man, baby!
The Indian track star, however, is undeniably a dude. I've seen drag hookers in the Meatpacking district who are less obviously male than this person. I can't even imagine how s/he got into women's international competition in the first place. Granted, I bet that openly transgendered people are much more of a rarity in India than they are here, and I bet it's also harder to get the hormones and surgeries needed to make the switch, but it's like this dude didn't even try. It reminds me of those bitches at Smith that would cut their hair and rename themselves Colin or Bobby or Julian, and then expect everyone to immediately refer to them with masculine pronouns without explaining themselves. I got into trouble with several Smith trannies back in the day because of such confusion, and to this day I'm still uncertain when a half-assed tranny crosses my path how to properly address them (ie: Miss J, judge, runway walking coach, and instigator of idiot Tyra Banks behavior from "America's Next Top Model.") Santhi Soudarajan seemingly just expected everyone to take his word for it that s/he's a chick, without really putting any effort into ensuring that the transformation is complete. Maybe it's hard to schedule an Adam's apple shaving with a New Delhi plastic surgeon, but at the very least, wear some WOMEN'S CLOTHES, dumbass! That's the least you can do before you try to pass yourself off as female in international competitions. See for yourself:
Labels: America's Next Top Model, exercise drama, gender bending, international intrigue
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