sporting quite the slutty swimwear (my night as DR!P STAR)

Thanks to a number of voters, I was chosen to be the first DR!P STAR! Naturally, I was super excited for Wednesday's pool party. Here's the winning shot:

Sure that there would be plenty of photo opps, I had a little trick up my sleeve to milk a bit of blog publicity out of this great honor.

After stopping into the Ritz for a party for D1 Music, MicHELLe and I hoofed it over to Grace Hotel.

"I want you to paint me."

MicHELLe gave me a confused look: "Huh? I'm not staying that long."

"You don't have to. You can paint me and leave. I know you've been working a lot lately."

After I changed, I pulled out the body paint supplies, asking MicHELLe to paint WWW.THEBLACKOUTBLOG.COM across my torso. As we were starting, Shequida came by (as a boy).

 

"Congrats! I have drink tickets for our first winner... What's going on here... Oh, honey, those don't look like Ws. You can get a napkin and start over again... Yeah, you're not working with much Real Estate here. You're gonna have to finish on the next line."

. o O (Shequida just offered me friendly advice on my blog advertising! Sweet!)

My first priority was spending up my drink tickets, which didn't take long at all. By the time I moseyed down to the pool, it was packed like I've never seen! I figured there was no better time to stand in the spotlight (there was literally a spotlight shining on the end of the pool) and get as much exposure as possible.

I soon learned that my boobs were sagging more than I thought, so some people had trouble reading my chest. A quick raise of the arm solved that problem (I've never danced so much with my arms above my head before in my life!).

I ran into Tré Xavier, actor and blogger, who was sporting quite the slutty swimwear.

But apparently it was working because after the Best Booty contest (which involved a bull-horn-toting drag queen and lots of showing of ass... which will be posted on Facebook forthwith), he ended up in the middle of a boy sandwich.

I really did have to blur out the other guy’s face. For some reason, he looks like he’s about 8 years old in that shot!

And here's  a photo of MicHELLe "leaving early":

Who out-queens a drag queen?!

 

So there was this white guy. A really hot white guy. At first, I thought he was a friend of Duplex’s (the one that uncomfortably flirty with me at a bar a few of months back), but it turns out this guy was much taller. And (more importantly) not off limits!

We exchanged a few flirty glances and passing phrases throughout the night, and he happened to be by the clothes check as I was leaving. I grabbed his shoulder and introduced myself when he turned around.

Him: “I know you. From around.”

Me: “Oh, well, good to see you again.”

Him: “You, too,” he said, smiling slyly as he turned to walk away. I was quite confused: you'd think I'd remember someone that hot. That confusion was soon cleared up when a little birdie (named Facebook) told me he was one of the masked performers at previous DR!P parties. 

And shout out to the clothes check guy who said twice that he was going to check out the blog!

Did I mention that it had been over a week since I’d gotten a full night of sleep? Yeah.

I tend to take a lot of photos that don't quite fit the blog but are gems nonetheless. Click here to see my Facebook profile with extra photos from the posts in August. Be sure to read the captions! And add me as a friend!

Note: you may find the "Topics of Discussion" on the right and the Cast of Characters to be of help in navigating this blog.

Props to Holly Daggers for her awesome photos (the first two)!

Thank god it didn’t stain my speedo (Jones Beach and D. Kareem finding a bear)

85 degrees and clear on a Saturday? You know we had to hit up the beach! Unfortunately, all of Manhattan and much of Brooklyn had the same idea. Penn Station was an absolute zoo that morning. And one of the animals was with us.

Apparently, Dandy-Lion (often found in a bar wearing a bow tie... actually met her last year... class of '00) was on her way to an outrageous party when she left her place that morning, but a change of plans found her waiting in Penn Station for about 40 minutes before I arrived (yay for being plan B?). Please tell me why she was in a white T decorated with purple marker and glittery eye makeup à la Were the World Mine!

And because that wasn't outrageous enough, the back of the tshirt said “If you think I’m sexy, text (646)…” She really did put her phone number.

Our group ended up in the last car because the train was so damn full. And of course, Med School Mess and East Village Latina were late, so we had to try and save them seats.

5 different people with varying degrees of attitude: “Is anyone sitting here.”

Me: “Yes, our friends are on their way down the platform.”

Hot gay guy 30 seconds later: “Are these seats taken.”

Me: “Of course not! Please sit next to me so we can do dirty things later... Friends?! What friends? I don’t even know these gays I’m sitting with!”

My actual response: “I think we only have 2 more people coming. Urban Sprawl, move your cooler!” Unfortunately they were a party of 3, and as I was saying this, Prada Bag emerged from a door behind me and slid into one of the seats, leaving room for only 2 hotties.

They took a few minutes to warm up to us, but then again, we were all still kinda tipsy from the night before. Med School Mess played MC, recounting her Asbury Park messiness, showing everyone our text conversation. Then she broke out this video on her iPhone.

I’ve been forever scarred. It's the 2 Girls 1 Cup of the animal kingdom, and I wish someone had taped my reaction to it!

Med School Mess: “Is it too early for me to start drinking? I mean, it’s noon somewhere. We all saw how well that turned out for me last time I started this early.”

Me: “Dude, we’re not even outside the City yet! Can you at least wait til Jamaica Station!”

Med School Mess: “We weren’t outside the city when I started drinking on the way to Asbury Park.”

Me: “And like you just said…”

I think we were a bit loud for the Random Hotties because as soon as we got off the train, they grabbed their other friend and quickly distanced themselves from us.

The talk of the day was my beach sheet . I’d just gotten it from the laundry, and when I laid it out, RSTLNE pointed out a man-shaped discoloration with a particularly pronounced butt and a long line extending between the legs.

“It’s probably from when I was wearing sun screen and started sweating profusely. Thank god it didn’t stain my speedo.” This could have been thoroughly embarrassing, but it’s a twin extra long sheet. I have no use for it other than the beach. 

Just then, Urban Sprawl broke out the humus and corn chips directly over my sheet. “Dude, I just washed this. Please don’t spill— goddamnit!”

After making plenty of fun of my sheet, Med School mess went to unfold her perfectly folded sheet (she'd obviously done drop-off service). She must not have been paying attention in her morning rush because she had grabbed a fitted sheet! #karmaisabitch

Once we got all settled, Dandy-Lion had Prada Bag douse her with glitter. Not even joking. The be-markered shirt came off, and instead of sun screen, it was, “No, more glitter. MORE!”

And who should be camped out not 50 meters away from us: Cabbage Boy. But he had re-cast his Cunty Greek Chorus for today. I went over to socialize for a bit, and Dandy-Lion joined me after a few minutes. I sensed a bit of attitude coming from the CGC, and the shorter of the two confirmed my sense when she made a nasty comment about “people who wear glitter”.

Dandy-Lion smiled, bade farewell, and fluttered back to the group. It wasn’t long before I took my leave as well.

When I rejoined my girls, it seemed that yoga was topic of discussion (they were literally doing headstands). Some of the "tops" turned out to be more flexible than expected.

Relax aaaaalllllllllllllllll ya muscooooooooles!

(once again, Med School Mess's face = priceless)

The train ride back wasn’t nearly as loud, and I headed uptown for a nap. By the time I woke up (around 10:30), I really couldn’t see myself trekking back downtown to go out. I got to texting, and a half hour later, 2 friends (one of whom I met on Grindr, Totally Tyler: fellow blogger, fellow WaHi resident, class of... somewhere in the mid-90s) were on my couch pregaming before heading to No Parking.

Totally Tyler mentioned that he had seen a line outside No Parking on his way over, but thankfully it was gone by the time we got there (closer to 1am). Of course, the first time both of these friends came to No Parking with me, everyone I knew was there (and it’s never good to look too popular at a night bar/club… unless it’s getting you special treatment… the cute barback didn’t charge me for my first drink, "but it ain't no fun if my homies can't have none!").

We settled towards the back of the bar, not too far from That Guy (you know, the one that wanted raw sex from me a few months ago... he once again reminded me that it’s mine anytime I want it). That Guy's friend, whom I’ve talked to more than him, had this bear hitting on him. A very handsome and muscular bear (in a classically white, salt-and-pepper, bearded way). But That Guy's friend wasn’t interested (I’m gonna guess because the bear was white). I watched the bear try so many times to engage the friend, and every time he got blown off.

Did I mention Totally Tyler had been feeding me drinks since we got to the bar (and one of those may have been a tequila shot)?

All this time, this bear was trying to work on That Guy’s friend to no avail. Finally, he gave up and wandered off not too far from me. This is when I noticed he could dance. I’m not sure how it was initiated, but I remember grinding with this bear (I don't remember making out with him) until the lights came on.

“Hey, so, I live around the corner. You wanna come over?”

“Sure.”

. o O (Oh, shit! I didn’t think he was actually going to come over! My room is a wreck! And he’s like fantasy hot! Like I-skim-porn-looking-for-guys-like-him hot!)

Let’s just say I couldn’t have cared less about his morning breath. And I hate morning breath.

Around 12:30, he started to gather his clothes (which were actually in the kitchen… thank god the roommate was out of town!): “Man, I need to eat.”

I wondered if this bear feeding was an excuse to leave: “Do you want to split a chicken? This place around the corner has amazing roasted chicken.”

On the way back to my place, I learned that he'd worked in fashion, that lived in a manageable part of Brooklyn, and that he had a name. Okay, that’s not true: I'd asked his name before we left for the chicken (I'd forgotten from the night before). Turns out he actually had a personality, too. Fun, playful sense of humor. And he was definitely up for meeting again. Just in case he becomes relevant, we'll call him Grrber.

Did I mention I suddenly have daily cravings for roasted chicken? Yeah.

Click here to check out the first night I met That Guy.

Note: you may find the "Topics of Discussion" on the right and the Cast of Characters to be of help in navigating this blog.

so much Jersey/Statin Island (Splash on a Friday)

Friday was supposed to be a rest day. But I wore a cute shirt to work, so I at least had to do happy hour. Pharmosexual, the young pharmacist, had invited us to his gay polo league's tournament kick off happy hour at Splash, so I rounded up a group of girls to meet there.

As I was talking to Pharmosexual and a friend of his, I saw an unbelievable ass out of the corner of my eye! Of course, it was gone by the time I tried to justify to the others why my jaw had suddenly dropped. 

When I went to order my first drink, the bartender on the near side was ignoring me (hello, below 96th St.), so I walked to the far side of the bar. That's when I saw the unbelievable ass again. He was one of the bartenders, and he was wearing the letters "VIC" on one cheek and "TOR" on the other.

"Ey, whadaya want, bro! I got anything you need right here." I'd never heard so much Jersey/Statin Island accent in real life before!

"Screwdriver, splash of pineapple, please."

"Ey, bro, whateva you need, I got you: just come to me. You wanna fuck any of these bastards, I'll hook it up! You wanna make a Porno? We're shooting a porno tomorrow, and we need a dark-toned guy. You got a big cock, right?"

"Oh. My. God!" I squeeled to the Crew. "You guys have to order your next drink from the guy in the shorts with his name on the back! He's a goddamn riot!"

The happy hour ended at 10.  Around 5 minutes after that, i ordered a drink with Med School Mess ordering just after I did.

“Bro, you coulda ordere from my man here! He’s standing two feet away from you.” Vic said, nodding to his Chelsea-hot coworker.

“Oh wow, I totally didn’t see him there! My bad, dude… but I was checking you out, Vic!”

Vic laughed and set our drinks down, walking away. Med School Mess and I gave each other a look as we took the first sip of our free—

“That’ll be $15 all together,” said the other bartender, visibly upset that the guys whom he wouldn’t notice in any other situation were ogling someone else. Maybe he was just on his period, but what bartender charges people for drinks that a different bartender makes?! That would have been my first free drink in Chelsea (the ones at XES and View Bar over a year ago don't count)!

Okay, I admit it: I found Victor incredibly hot. What, I like beefy guys (one of my many types)!

We guzzled our drinks and bade Pharmosexual goodbye, walking down 6^th ave to Pieces. As often happens when The Blackout Blog’s author blacks out, the rest of the night happened in flashes. Really, the only significant thing that I remember seeing was Urban Sprawl nestling between Taye Diggs and Pubic Finance (who have been together for around 2 years now). Did I mention 2 out of 3 may have been into it? Yeah.

PS, one of the reasons I loved interacting Vic was because I instantly recognized him from this Manchattan blog post.

What's better than happy hour? OPEN BAR! Click here to check out this over the top birthday party.

Note: you may find the "Topics of Discussion" on the right and the Cast of Characters to be of help in navigating this blog.

sitting on his bed shirtless after an open bar (Part II)

Okay, so where did we leave off from last time? Open bar… Chinese food… Oh right. Sexican and I shirtless on his bed.

I get really nervous about making the first move if it’s not gift wrapped for me. For example, this night, I was damn near dizzy, not from the alcohol, but from weighing the pros and cons of going in for a kiss. Okay, that’s a lie: at that point, it was less if and more when.

. o O (Okay, I just need to go for it. Okay, I'm gonna do it in 10... 9... Shit, he just shifted. Okay, 10... 9... 8... Stupid TV, making him laugh. Okay, for real this time. But maybe I should just let it go... Shut up and go for it already!)

Really, there’s no right time because if a guy is into you and you go for it, he’ll fucking kiss you… but whatever, I over analyze this type of shit when I'm in the moment. 

So about 15 minutes into Brooke Knows Best (we had watched a full hour of that Megan show by now), I finally graduated from high school, scooting over over and leaning in.

It took him a second to realize what was happening, but when I was about 2 inches away from his face, he moved back ever so slightly with an, “Oh my!”

. o O (Wait, maybe he’s just taken aback. Yes? Okay, he’s not moving in. First move FAIL!)

Me: “Okay, my bad.”

Him: “I… I didn’t mean to make anything uncomfortable.”

“Naw, it’s all good,” I said with a non-chalant smile, turning back to the TV. As much as I hate being rejected, I was moreso relieved to have it over with. There are certain situations where sexual tension can be fun for me (because the fantasy is usually more fun than the realization), but for whatever reason in this situation, I felt the need to either go hard or go home. And this time, I had to go home hard. 

But since it was Dominican Day, I figured I’d be wrong for not peeking into No Parking on the way home. When I saw Costello outside (he’s a promoter for WaHi gay parties), I knew the bar was in celebration mode.

Did I mention I ran into the guy that picked me up the night after Halloween (when I was at No Parking in a speedo)? I definitely forgot who he was for the first 20 seconds or so. That was a messy night.

By the time I'd recovered from that weekend, it was Thursday, and had gotten Facebook invites for two open bars that night. Fuck.

I was surprised to see the boys outside when I arrived at Key Club at 9:15. At 9:20, we were still outside. Mind you, the open bar is only til 10. The bouncer said something about their "bank" not having arrived. Now I don't think I've paid a cover at this party for over a month, but tonight was $5. We had exact change for the 4 of us that were there, but we were still held outside. And the pretty boy bringing his friends around the velvet rope all VIP style while we waited definitely didn't help. A group of about 8 behind us were over it and went elsewhere.

Finally at 8:25 (i.e., 25 minutes after the open bar had started), we were admitted. Maybe we got a "sorry 'bout that" on the way in, but there was no extension to the open bar since they started late, no "hey, I'm sorry you guys had to wait because we didn't have it together. I know you guys come every week, so here's some drink tickets for your trouble." Nothing to help our perception of the Fornabaio Voss brand values its patrons or its own word. And it's not even about the money (any of us could have paid for a full night of drinking there without a problem if we chose to). 

Did I mention another friend was treated very rudely at the door of their Friday party (Rockit), and he called them out on racial discrimination? I wasn't there, so I can't say for sure. But true or misconstrued, the fact is that people are talking about it (this friend is not the only one). Neither situation is a good look for the Fornabaio Voss brand.

We enjoyed DJ Xavier’s early set before hopping a cab down to Element for a monthly party by Joey Israel (the second open bar of the night... thankfully, Joey's comp list couldn't have gone any more smoothly). There may have been 15 people when we walked in (in addition to the fabulously larger-than-life transwomen). I chassed up to the bar and asked the super-hot bartender, “So, what goes well with this Cruzan rum?” I couldn’t quite understand his answer, but he put his hand on my shoulder and something about mixing juices was involved. “Lemme get one of those… what’s this called?”

“I call it a ram panch.”

. o O (Is that an accent I hear?)

“I like your ram panch,” I said to his amusement.

We doubled our blood alcohol levels with hangover fuel and watched the transwomen dance with Matthew Camp on the stage to Cazwell’s ridiculously fun set before peacing out to View Bar. Because we definitely needed $3 frozen margaritas (they raised the price! I remember when they were a dollar!).

As we guzzled (pausing only to avoid brain freezes), I noticed a familiar face walk into the bar: an Aussie I had met briefly at DR!P the night before. He was fully dressed when when we first talked (at DR!P), and I promptly informed him of his problematic condition. He went to “go walk around,” and we spoke later when he was more appropriately dressed for the party. As I watched him walk away, his amazing ass reminded me of why I loved my semester in Sydney so much.

So we talked (at View) for a while about god knows what before he excused himself to go rejoin his friends for a bit. Around 12:30, Med School Mess was acting like she was going to die if she didn’t get an injection of DJ Sidewalk at that instant. I told them to go to Splash without me.

“Gonna stay for your Australian?”

"My train is right there! There's no way I'm walking east this late... And maybe I just want to say goodbye before I head uptown."

Did I mention that the outback is beautiful this time of year (okay, it’s actually winter down there, but just go with it)? Yeah!

I didn't make it to The Eagle yesterday, but click here to read a post from a hilarious afternoon there. WOOF.

Note: you may find the "Topics of Discussion" on the right and the Cast of Characters to be of help in navigating this blog.

sitting on his bed shirtless after an open bar (Hudson Terrace Sundays)

I arrived home on Sunday morning afternoon to find Straight Roommate and his Real Girl friend from salsa class packaging CDs for his new EP (check him out at www.AlexMontas.com). He'd really gone all out with the professional CD jackets and CDs with clear backs (not blue like the CD-Rs you burn on your computer). It was like Jive Records was in my living room! I helped them for a bit with the packing of the CDs and chatted with them until the Sexican called.

Yes, he called my phone.

He mentioned Ono, a party at a fancy straight rooftop in the Meat Packing District (i.e., expensive drinks and possibly snobby crowd). I kinda stopped listening after that.

"… Hudson Terrace… really cute party… 5 o'clock… friends… open bar.”

Me: “Wait, it’s open bar?! Why didn’t you say that in the first place! Where is it again?”

Him: “Hudson Terrace, 5-6 this afternoon.”

Me: “I’ll be there at 4:59!”

My voicemail was acting funny (#thanksAT&T), so I called The Sexican. “Hey, so it turns out the party doesn’t start til 6:30! I’m so sorry.”

“Oh, wow. Okay.”

“So I’m just on my way down to Chelsea. Some of the boys are getting sangria at this place down there until it starts.”

. o O (That did’t exactly sound like an invitation.)

“Okay…” I paused. “Well, I’ll just find something to do in Hell’s Kitchen for a bit. I’m sure I can entertain myself for a bit.”

“God, I feel so bad!”

“Worse things have happened. Whatever. Holler at me later.”

“Okay.”

. o O (Did he really just leave me hanging? I mean, I don’t really know his people like that, but damn! Guess I’ll go play on Facebook at the office. Maybe work on the blog…)

My phone rang: “What’s up?”
“Hey, I can just tell them to meet us at Hudson Terrace. Do you wanna grab a drink at Barrage?”

It was all very weird timing because I thought had I at least 10 or 15 minutes. I was starving, so I grabbed a sandwich at a deli. As I was stuffing my face in front of Barrage, Loosefur walked by with his dog, Fluffy (the one who tried to bite my leg off last time I saw her). I gave her a cautious hug (the bitch, not the dog) and told him I was meeting The Sexican.

“I could join you guys… unless it’s… like that.””

“Yeah, you know, I really don’t know.”

“Oh… well, text me.”

Right as he was saying that, The Sexican turned the corner. Loosefur bolted right as I was going to introduce him (awkward). And I still had half my sandwich left, which I proceeded to eat in the most (unintentionally) anti-sexy fashion ever (fuck shredded lettuce!) while The Sexican and I talked outside.

A couple of The Sexican’s friends walked by and ended up going into the bar. The Sexican ordered his drink first and then went to the bathroom. I got my drink, and… . o O (crap, do I sit alone or do I sit with the friends?! Are they even really friends or just being nice because the met once?! What do I do??!!!)

The Sexican joined the three of us, but of course, we branched off into our own conversations.

Loosefur texted about 20 mintues later: Is it love?

I responded: Maybe.

At one point in our convo, I mentioned Columbia (the town, not the school).
The Sexican: “You’re from South Carolina?! I’m from North Carolina!”

Me: “Near Wilmington. I know.”

“Huh? How’d you know that?”

“Aside from the accent? Your blog.”

“Oh my god, you found my blog?!”

. o O (It’s linked from your Facebook profile, dude.)

“Yeah, I only got to a couple of entries, but it was interesting. I actually have one of my own…”

Around 6, The Sexican got a text that his friends were at the Hudson Terrace, so we ambled west while we talked some more. He was wearing a tshirt with the sides cut out (that looked really good on him) with the word HEALTHY written in baby blue print.

That's so healthy.

“Did you make that yourself?” Of course, I didn’t realize how that sounded until I’d said it.

“Yeah, I did.”

“God, the letters are perfectly aligned and spaced! My iron-on shirts never came out that professional-looking.”

“Yeah, I had [some major medical work done] a few years ago. It was pretty serious, and I couldn’t drink for months. So when everything was resolved, I made this shirt for my first night out.”

We met up with his friends and went inside to the spectacular penultimate level. I’m kicking myself now because I can’t remember the DJ’s name, but it was more of a real name than a stage name. Whatever her name was, she was working it out (the music and the dancing!).

Occasionally Denzelle sends what I like to call Brooklyn pop songs song via Facebook email. I had to send him a text when a club mix of “Bulletproof” came on. I felt all alterna-cool because I already knew the hook… sort of.

The Sexican's friends actually turned out to be a lot of fun. I started out slow with the drinks because I wasn’t sure what their pace was, but much like the Ivy League Crew, they were all about securing a table and lining up the free drinks. Loosefur eventually joined us, waiting until the open bar was over because she couldn’t deal with the barbarians (read: us) clamoring for free alcohol.

After the open bar was over, they opened up the roofdeck. Unfortunately, it was a Splash type of division: the Scene was upstairs with the Junior Vasquez music (no, really, Junior was the DJ), and the pop music was downstairs. I almost suggested we ignore the Scene and go for the music, but I wasn’t sure if that’d get me sentenced to 60 days of shunning or not. We kept towards the stairs, which was extra fun because we were right next to the high-powered air conditioner (yes, we were outside), which I used as a diva fan.

About 10 mintues after we got upstairs, we heard this really loud hissing sound, almost like static. I was thinking the DJ needed to get it together, but all of a sudden, everything turned cold and white. I literally had no visibility! Once everything cleared, I realized that there was a sort of hyper-powered smoke machine that blew out high-velocity cryogenic mist. It was cool until I realized that I was breathing that shit in.

Around 8:30, everyone was over it, so we headed out.

The Sexican: “I think I’m gonna just grab some Chinese food and go home.”

Me: “Cool. I’ll walk with you. I’m going uptown anyway.”

We ended up getting Chinese food and going back to his place. And since there wasn’t much social space in the apartment, we sat on his bed and watched VH-1. Did I mention we were shirtless because it was hot as hell and the A/C took a while to kick in. Plus I was wearing a white button-down (don’t wanna sweat that out!).

Can we have a short conversation about how much of a mess Megan Wants a Millionaire is (that's the show we watched)? I swear there are like 2 straight guys on that show. And that’s being generous. I’d do a whole recap of this hilarious episode, but a) you can look that up yourself (especially the awful kiss… but good luck finding it now that one of the contestants is wanted for murder) and b) you’re probably wondering what happened as we were sitting on his bed shirtless after an open bar.

Did I mention I'm gonna have to finish this in the next post? Yeah.

While you're waiting, click here to check out this wild Sunday Night when Bottomless Pitt won a bottle at Hot Mess.

Update: click here to read the conclusion of this night.

Note: you may find the "Topics of Discussion" on the right and the Cast of Characters to be of help in navigating this blog.

McSteamy Sex Tape Review (featuring Rebecca Gayheart and Kari Ann Peniche)

If you haven’t seen the Eric Dane, Rebecca Gayheart and Kari Ann Peniche Sex Tape, watch it here. If you can’t watch it (at work much?), don’t worry: I’ve provided a play-by-play description below. My review is below the picture of McSteamy.

Starts with both women on the bed scantily clad.

“We’re late for dance class.”

“We have to change.”

“Ballet.”

Jumps to a shot of indistinguishable flesh with a woman saying “bend over”.

Camera swings over to Dane walking up naked (low quality: can’t see the goods… at first).

Profile dick shot around 3:10 (backwards count). And a (not too impressive) butt shot from a 360 turn.

“It’s called something but he doesn’t understand, but he likes it… Girls know kama sutra.”

They’re listening to Nelly and Kelly Rowland “Dilemma”.

Dane: “I’m gonna get a lot of shit if I walk around like this, right?” or something like that.

First topless shot (around 2:50) Peniche on the bed.

She’s talking on the phone, and every other word is bleeped (names?)

Next is Gayheart in the tub topless. Looks like she’s pulling something out of her butt at first, but she’s actually posing with her hand on her hip, smoking a cig (joint?).

Dane and Gayheart tell Peniche that she’s a “friend” and a “great hang”.

They can’t figure out how to work the whirlpool.

“How do I turn the water off?”

“That’s the jets, babe.”

“It’s draining!”

Peniche: “We have to make it pretty ‘cause I’m a candle whore.”

Gayheart: “Now, I have to say… That I’m not like a huge advocate of drugs for whatever reason…” she starts laughing and passes the ‘cigarette’ to Peniche, who climbs into the whirlpool with her.

Peniche shows Gayheart showing how to turn up the bubbles. She then announces, “I have a rubber ducky and a rubber frog.” That’s where the tape stops. Total run time 3:34.

If only he looked this good on the tape!

This is hardly a sex tape. Basically, they’re hanging out naked getting drunk and high (not confirmed, but it seems pretty obvious from their interaction). The beginning starts out sort of like a classic porn set up with sexy voices and naughty looks from the women on the beds and then one women telling the other to bend over. But then it dissolves into mundane discussion of dogs’ names.

Even worse, Dane isn’t even hard! And his cock, while not lacking in the length department (at all) could be thicker. Maybe that’s what he meant by “I’m gonna get a lot of shit if I walk around like this [flaccid].” Let’s just hope he’s a shower in length and a grower in girth.

I'm guessing (read: fantasizing) that they had sex between the porn set up and the flaccid shot. The rest was just post-coital hanging out.

With the way they're struggling with the whirlpool, I would say the must be in a hotel, but there’s a shitload of candles in the bathroom. With Peniche lighting more every minute. And as for the “candle whore” comment, I’m not sure I want to be labeled as any kind of whore when I’m naked on camera. It seems as though Peniche was ignoring their whirlpool struggle while she was lighting the candles and didn't bother to save them til she was ready to get in.

That last paragraph tell you how non-eventful video is.

Okay, so they’re naked. That’s the most interesting part. Photo stills would have been the way to go for this unless you’re just obsessed with McSteamy (who was frankly kind of disappointing… not that he’s out of shape… not that he’s in shape), or you wanted to see some famous nipple. This is what gets edited out of reality TV because it’s kinda boring. The label sex tape is more than an exaggeration: it’s a complete misnomer.

Clich here to check out my latest album review: Ciara's Fantasy Ride.

making straight people either thoroughly entertained or uncomfortable (House Parties and Black Pride '09)

After a Thursday night of good old-fashioned drunken fun, the Ivy League Crew et al met up on a Friday in SoHo to celebrate PhD's birthday. He's apparently dating a rich guy in the magazine world (it's a great story, but I wasn't introduced), and this guy's place has an outrageous garden in the back. The invite said sangria would be provided, but I wasn't feeling that classy. I picked up some Bacardi Lemón on the way from the gym.

When I arrived, the med school crew was hanging out on the front steps. I talked with them for a good five minutes before I asked about the mixer situation. There were none, so hoofed it back to 6th ave to get a half liter of Coke (for 2 damn dollars!). Finally, I walked into the party, stuffing the small liquor bottle in my back pocket and setting the Coke on a table.

Why was Med School Mess playing my NYE '09 mix on his iPod.

So after a good 20 minutes of socializing, I saw Urban Sprawl taking a huge swig of Coke. My Coke.

"Bitch! Do you know I had to make a special trip back out to get that! Put the bottle down before you get cut!" She wasn't even mixing it with anything! 

As we were leaving, we got into a BonQuiQui quoting battle with a cute little white girl. She was so excited that she insisted that Med School Mess take her number and save it as BonQuiQui.

Time to go.

By midnight, I was shirtless and covered in sweat at Posh. I ran into The Sexican. She was quite friendly and started dancing with me immediately. Then she introduced herself.

“Uh, we met last week. Calipornia's pool party…”

“Oh, D. Kareem! Oh my god, the glasses totally threw me off!”

“That’s real nice, hun…”

Saturday, I met up with Med School Mess and Donkey Hóte on the pier. We polished off our Gatorade bottles and kee-kee-ed until it got downright cold outside (boo clouds!). Mess suggested that we pick up a bottle of vodka and go to Just-In’s party on the Upper West Side.

“It’s a beach theme, so you’re all set. You should leave your speedo on!”

“Honey, these boots may be made for walking, but this speedo chafes. I’ll change when we get there.”

It was actually really crowded when we got there. We poured ourselves drinks and made a lap around the party to get a sense of how into the beach theme people had gotten. A couple of guys were wearing board shorts with shirts (are we still doing board shorts on ’09?), but that was about it. A few more sips of my drink, and I said, “Fuck it. I’m doing the speedo.”

We started talking to this hot little Asian girl who was an actor/bartender/master poker player. Guys assume because she’s hot that she doesn’t know what she’s doing, and she takes their money. It really made me get close to wanting to learn how to play poker (but I’ll settle for Gaga and Kanye).

After making straight people either thoroughly entertained or uncomfortable, I headed home to change my shoes. The Photographer was able to get me on the list at Secret for their Black Pride event (just like you refer to Gay Pride as Pride, I refer to Black Gay Pride as Black Pride), and there was no way I was going to something that crowded with the cowboy boots I had just shined. MicHELLe met me outside Penn Station, and we got there about 11:30.

This is when things started getting really cloudy. In fact, I remember almost nothing from the party except The Photographer introducing me to his promoter friend by the back of the bar. I think I danced. I remember seeing shirtless guys from City Gym Boys. And I remember MicHELLe talking to one of the 3 white guys there (of course).

Please tell me why I ended up in the back of NEXT Magazine giving some guy the shocker (NEXT is a popular gay weekly with party listings in the front and "massage" listings [complete with cock sizes] in the back). 

"When having your photograph taken, always stand to the right. That way, when it's printed, the caption will read your name first..."

Then we all went over to the Eagle. I remember almost nothing of this, but when I talked to The Photographer the next day, he said something about me and a guy in a red jock strap. “Check your camera tomorrow.”

Did I mention my walk of shame required crossing Union Square in a U of South Carolina shirt that said “COCKS” on the front? Yeah.

Did you see that there's an 18+ Sea Tea (a booze cruise in NYC) in a few weeks?! Click here to check out my Muscle Bear Sea Tea experience.

Note: you may find the "Topics of Discussion" on the right and the Cast of Characters to be of help in navigating this blog.

And if you're on Facebook, vote for me for DR!P Idol TODAY! Click here and click "attending" or "maybe", and click here to write the comment "DRIP" on my photo. You can remove yourself from the event after, and your comment will stick (but it's a hot party, so you really should come)!

UPDATE: I won! I'm this weeks DR!P STAR! Thanks to all who voted. Let's hope they don't pull me on stage (but I know they will).

we started making porn scenes (just another Sunday)

The first Sunday in August is when NYC usually does Black Pride on Riis Beach in Queens, but the weather was pretty crappy. I woke up in the Village on Sunday morning (yeah, it happens), so I texted everyone and suggested we go to drunk bruch at Maracas instead.

I had an hour and a half to kill in the Village. I could have done something productive, like sat in a Starbucks and worked on the blog. But it just so happens that my resurrected Adam4Adam profile* got me an email from a hot foreign shop keeper. And you all know how I love accents. I stopped in and burned a good 40 minutes there. I really do need to ask him if that stock room has a camera.

As expected, everyone was late, so we ended up sitting down almost a half hour after we’d planned. But the waitress kept the unlimited margaritas and bloody maries coming! And because we’re tragically immature, we started making porn scenes out of the plastic animals that came in our drinks.

Foodvu. Someone on Twitter said I was the voyeur in the background.

It only got worse.

When we finished brunch, we moseyed down to Pieces for a couple of drinks before heading to the Pier to work on the Gatorade bottle that I’d packed.

I used to make fun of my boys for playing the Photo Hunt game in the corner at Chi Chi's (sometimes for as long as an hour), but it’s actually a lot of fun! They have ridiculous categories (including straight-guy-targeted porn photos). Between our various mental imbalances diverse skill sets, we were able to put up a couple of high scores, which is kind of an ego boost until you consider that we were quadruple-teaming the game.

After a short break for some sushi in Chelsea, Memen, Bottomless Pitt and I stumbled across the street to XES, arriving a bit early for karaoke. Menen works for a school (summer break much), so when he considered going home early, I responded, “What do you have to do tomorrow morning?”

“Oh, right. Nothing!”

“Make hers a double.”

Did I mention that I stumbled to Duplex’s duplex around 1, and I was still wobbly on my feet for the next 3 days (which happened to be just enough recovery time for DR!P)? Yeah.

Did you miss Friday's update (I posted really late)? Click here to catch up.

Note: you may find the "Topics of Discussion" on the right and the Cast of Characters to be of help in navigating this blog.

*and by resurrected A4A profile, I mean the new one I just made for the blog that I'm totally not supposed to use for meeting guys because the pictures are from a year ago!

Party Your Bass Off (Kake, FiPi, and Adam Benjamin Irby's B'day)

Menen had sent me a facebook invite early in the week for a Friday night open bar party at the Chelsea Hotel called Kake. I really didn't read the invite outside of the location and "open bar". I was sold, spreading the word to the Crew.

The open bar was from 10-midnight. I figured I'd tone down my dress, so I threw on a tshirt with my college's mascot (which happens to be a variety of bear) on it since I hadn't worn it in a while. I was worried because I didn't get off the train until about 10:10, and Chelsea Hotel's Friday night party from the winter would have had a 10-20 minute line by then. Much to my surprise, there was nobody in line at all. I had mixed feelings about this, but my mind was focused on the open bar.

The crowd inside was sparse and noticibly older than the last time I'd been there. I paused briefly to admire the muscled, bearded DJ before b-lining to the bar. There were so few people that I didn't even bother double fisting when I walked over to Menen and East Village Latina, who were talking to new friends.

 

"So, apparently this is a muscle bear party!" Menen giggled.

I choked on my drink, "Did you just say, 'Muscle Bear'?!"

"Yeah! I didn't get it before, but apparently the name of the main character from those Tom of Finland drawings is Kake. We came last week, but the club was double booked or something. The promoter was outside carrying this huge cake!"

All I had heard was 'muscle bear': "Fuck! I should have worn something sleeveless!"

"Um, well, you do have a bear on your shirt."

 

Eventually, a nice crowd built up. Turns out the DJ I was checking out was also the promoter, DeMarko Browne, who is not only hot, but super nice as well. I ended up talking to a slightly scruffy TSWB. And by talking to, I mean obscenely making out with but not taking home. Fucking open bar!

I turned in early on Friday because I was day-tripping to FiPi. Calipornia was hosting a party there and asked me to do a playlist. I hate daytrips to Fire Island, but I managed to drag some of the Ivy League Crew with me.

The Crew ended up going to the beach, so I gave them the address (on Bass Walk) to come later. Not long after I branched off from them, I saw a street sign that really captured the changing social landscape of The Pines.

So tell me whatchu want, whatchu really, really want!

With this request mind, I strutted down Fire Island Blvd with the confidence of a man newly in demand, giggling at Calipornia's color-printer signs along the walk: "Nice Bass", "Party Your Bass Off", and "Shake That Bass!"

 

Entering a pool party on FiPi is always interesting because one often has to walk through the house to get to the pool, and hosts always leave their door open or unlocked. In this situation, one always runs the risk of getting the who-invited-her look from an unfamiliar resident of the house. I entered slowly, announcing my presence as I stepped in, and Calipornia came trotting from the other side of the pool to greet me.

 

Calipornia: "You should have seen me an hour ago! I was freaking out because we had no ice! We went to the store at 11 o'clock, and the woman said it'd take 45 minutes. I just assumed it’d be an hour. Our delivery didn’t arrive til 1:30! One Thirty! I opened the door so ready  to bitch out the delivery boy, but then I saw that he was gorgeous! I tipped double.”

I put my iPod on, and Calipornia introduced me to everyone between the stereo and the bar. It ended up being a really cool mix of people (major hotties included).

There was talk of another party at the house where the Long Island Gays were staying a few weeks before. We had run out of mixer (I was on my second vodka on the rocks), so we figured they might at least have some juice if we brought our own alcohol.

We walked into absolute madness. Guys where everywhere, and they all started going crazy when “When Love Takes Over” came on!

If this is just the DJ playing, I wouldn't want to be anywhere near a live performance (*cough* Ascension *cough*)

We ended up running up running into the Ivy League Crew and stayed there for a good half hour before heading to a rather uneventful High Tea and catching the ferry home. But of course, that’s not where the night ended.

I headed down to Gym Bar to pick up  MicHELLe and one of her friends to head to Adam Benjamin Irby’s birthday party (he's an acclaimed blogger) at Las Chicas Locas in the Sheraton 4 points. I had to do a double take when I saw what the hostess was wearing.

A vision in seersucker . A whole suit.

"Work."

It was cool, low-key fun, and the drinks were surprisingly reasonable for a hotel bar ($8). Adam had made the playlist, which was perfect because we have similar tastes in music. MicHELLe and I spent the rest of the night, tripping out, people watching, and harmonizing background vocals together.

 
Did I mention that post-drunkfest ’09 is not exactly the best time to meet an online hook up? Yeah.

Shout out to all the new readers in California! Click here to check out this post from last time I was in LA.

Note: you may find the "Topics of Discussion" on the right and the Cast of Characters to be of help in navigating this blog.

Sober Moment 8.13.09: The Breakup: Epilogue

It's not all partying and drankin' with D. Kareem.  The sober moment posts are just going to say what's on my mind.  More what I'm thinking; less what I'm doing. 

So, I reached out to SoHo Crush yesterday. We’ve talked since he dumped me in a midtown bar (it’ll be a month tomorrow), but not much. In fact, this was the first contact we’d had in about 3 weeks.

He was way more obsessed with Beyoncé than any man in his 40s should be (but hey, I’m not complaining), and we would make random references to her music. One thing that would have never gotten old was his imitation of Jay Z’s signature “uh”. That “uh” punctuated some of my favorite moments together. Did I mention that Jay Z has two big singles out right now? Yeah.

 

I texted him that I miss him most when I hear Jay Z songs, and his (very long) response started with “Ho[v]!!!” It also included a bit of ‘thinking of you, too’ and a major shocker: he hasn’t drank since the night he dumped me in the midtown bar. I’d never known him to go more than 2 weeks without a drink in the year that we dated!

 

When I asked him about how things were going with the house he was considering, he said he had dropped that one (the day after he dumped me in the midtown bar) and put in a bid for a bigger building in a better location (we’re still talking about the house, right?). “I’ll finally have my home for wayward boys,” mentioning that he’d be Sharonne’s landlord (wasn’t she like class of ’00?).

 

He seemed to be doing so much better since that day. I realize the only perspective I have on his situation is the information he gave me. And as unhealthy and preposterous as it is, I can’t help thinking about how his turn for the seemingly better had coincided (i.e., could seem to have been caused by) our breakup. He had gotten some pretty devastating news about someone close to him days before, and it really shook him up. Our breakup was probably more like a check on the list rather than the goal of the list. But that shit still hurts. Even scrolling back through the old texts to see what day we broke up was hard for me.

 

And Jay Z is still has at least one more single coming out.

Okay, that was pretty heavy. Lighten up! Click here for our gay trip to 6 Flags followed by Baña the Pool Party.

Note: you may find the "Topics of Discussion" on the right and the Cast of Characters to be of help in navigating this blog.

They must have added something to the pool water (DR!P)

Arm'n'Hammer's birthday fell on a Wednesday, so he set up an event on Facebook to pregame at XES before heading to DR!P. I thought I'd have just enough time after work to catch a 90-minute nap before joining them for a drink, but I ended up arriving at XES around 11:15.

I figured the goal was to get to DR!P between 11:30 and midnight, so when Arm'n'Hammer accosted me with a slurry "Buy me a drink; it's my birthday!" I offered him a shot instead. "I SAID A SHOT!" She was wasted and probably didn't need it, but I figured it could be entertaining. Plus it was more time efficient.

 

While we were rallying people to leave, I saw East Village Latina talking to the Token White Hottie from Sunday Night Karaoke. I figured they knew each other from before EVL left NYC, and I didn't think too much of it.

 

We arrived to DR!P just after midnight. While it wasn't as crowded as usual, we got a good bit of bang for our buck with the scene.

Keeping up with clothes check tickets can be a problem if one goes in the water. And I refuse to hold tickets (the last thing I need when I'm ready to leave is to be tracking down your drunk ass). So Med School Mess used her Ivy League education to come up with this waterproof solution.

That week, DR!P went with a Space Invaders theme, and the cast of the party had gone all out.

 

I was wearing a brief-cut speedo (very brief), and at one point, I just started vibrating my ass to whatever song was playing. I didn't realize there was a cute, drunk, white guy behind me (that's totally something I'd do on purpose, but I swear I didn't know this time!). Nice body, too. He got up and approached me, but he was a bit too grabby with the gluteus. Shame, I probably would have at least given him my number.

Speaking of things people were wearing, these trunks look eerily familiar.

 

As I posed stood poolside, I felt a cold sensation on my chest and jumped back. "Oh my," said a drag queen pulling a plastic alien's arm from me. "'Scuse him: he's foreign."

The alien wasn't the only one feeling frisky that night. They must have added something to the pool water because it was like everyone was in heat!

Is that East Village Latina with the Token White Hottie from XES?! ¡Dios mío!

Even Urban Sprawl got a little lovin'.

Notice Med School Mess's face.

You would think that this type of thing would happen more often at a party with alcohol and nearly naked boys, but most guys have better chances with their clothes on this is the first time I've seen this much action in the pool! Kinda glad I didn't go in.

And can we have a short conversation about this? 

I had dinner before I left the house, but...

...t...

A friend of Duplex's (it's hard to keep them straight because they're all tall, muscular, beautiful black guys) introduced me to a very hot guy (see description above) who engaged me for a good little while. But I really couldn't pursue it (and not just because he lived in Jersey). Did I mention Duplex had just come up to my place (at like 2am on a school night!) the week before? Did I mention I didn't regret a moment of grogginess the next day? Yeah.

Now, East Village Latina, will you please stop whining about not appearing on the blog? Awesome.

Click here to check out Duplex's Halloween Party.

Note: you may find the "Topics of Discussion" on the right and the Cast of Characters to be of help in navigating this blog.