next to me trading blow jobs (Fire Island Black Out [FIBO] Weekend '12)

Last year for Fire Island Black Out (FIBO), I'd only planned a day trip, and I wasn't exactly thrilled with having to leave. This year, Bohoken and I planned to stay in Cherry Grove for the whole weekend. It turned out that a Canadian couple I knew, Terrance and Phillip, we're staying as well and bringing a couple of friends. Sweet!

fire island black out... no relation

During FIBO, major event planners get hundreds of black guys (and girls) from the tri-state area to come out for a variety of events in Cherry Grove, the biggest of which is Saturday's beach day. Bohoken and I arrived Friday afternoon and stopped by Terrance and Phillip's place a couple of times for drinks: once before our disco nap and once after. Of course, it was Friday, so we showed up the second time in our underwear in preparation for Daniel Nardicio's party at the Ice Palace.

Did I mention Blink was on the Island that night? Of course I asked if she could join us to pre-game, and of course she had already started pregaming before she'd arrived.

Out of nowhere, these guys from the HOOD just appeared in Terrence and Phillip's yard. I don't know if they heard the music or saw the underwear through the hedges. But Terrence (the taller of the Canadian couple) and I were sent to the gate as bouncers.

Me: "Hey, how's it going, guys?"

Guy 1: "Heeeeey, baby!"

Guy 2: "We gud. Waz gud w you?"

Me: "All good here. My friends and I are just having a few drinks before the party at the Ice Palace. Are you guys going?"

Guy 2: "Dafuq? Whaz da Ice Palaz?!"

Me: "The big place in town with the ramp. You can't miss it. Underwear party tonight. Obviously we'll be there."

no cameras in the party!

Guy 1: "Obviously, we'll be here with you sexy motherfuckers."

Me: "Well, this is a private party. Just me and a few friends, and we're keeping it small. But Ice Palace later?"

Guy 3: "Yo, how much y'all charging to get up in this bitch?"

Terrence: "No, no, no, no, no! No cover. Like he said, a private party."

Me:" Guys, we're gonna get back to our friends, but we'll see you at the underwear party, yes?"

Guy 2: "Yeah, I guezz so."

Guy 1: "Damn, you sexy, maine."

Terrence: "G'niiiiiiiiiiight!"

Eventually, we made it to the underwear party, which, oddly, was pretty unremarkable. It was definitely fun, but it didn't have the same umph (read: backroom action) Daniel's parties are known for.

Saturday was the beach event, which was all kinds of fun (even if I didn't see my FIBO boyfriend who always makes me a plate of food from his beach cooler). When we saw the Canadian boys, they were all about Saturday night's $30 party at the Ice Palace. From my snooze of an experience in 2010, I suggested they keep their minds open to heading to the Pines.

shit, I just noticed the hottie in the background. heeeeeyyyyyyy!

They convinced me to go, and I'll admit, I had a good time. In fact, it was much better than last year. But it was the drama that happened after that was most interesting.

All of us, including the cute Asian guy Blink had been making out with and the couple of black guys that Terrence and Phillip had been talking to, went back to the Canadians' house. In the middle of our nice little kiki, Canadian #1 (one of T&P's friends in the house, a reasonably attractive white guy in his late 20s) decided that one of the black guys (whom I found to be hot as HELL) was annoying him. "I'm about this close to kicking you out." Awkward.

So, the black guys stayed for a bit before they peaced out for somewhere less hostile. The rest of us were out on the back porch around a table. I looked over to my left and saw Blink and his guy in the two chairs next to me trading blow jobs like two Drinking Bird toys. At first, I was a bit shocked, but after about a half second, I sat back and enjoyed the show.

Now, to give you some context, Terence, Phillip and I messed around once a while back (good times), and they're often on the hunt for a 3rd. It wouldn’t be too far fetched to guess that they’d messed around with the friends that were staying with them at some point (and let’s be real: “some point” could presumably be earlier that day). Keep in mind these are friends whom Phillip had described to me as “hot” and said I would “love” them. Given this pretext and all the talk of picking up guys at our pregames, I figured it was a pretty sexually liberal environment. Blink and his boy were just getting the party started.

Canadian #1 saw what was happening and immediately insisted that Blink and his trick leave the house. I was in complete shock. Apparently, after Blink and his boy left, they were walking down the boardwalk to god knows where, and they passed a guy who did the I’m-stopping-and-turning-around-to-see-if-you’re-checking-me-out-too dance with them. All it took was the offer of a drink to get that funk guitar warmed up. You’ll be surprised to learn that they never ended up actually drinking the offered drink.

Canadian #1: "Can you believe that happened? I mean, this isn't a bathhouse! It can't be a free-for-all. Ugh. And with an Asian! I could understand if it were attractive people...."

Me: "Dude, really?"

Canadian #1: "What?"

Me: "So he's unattractive because he's Asian? That's really fucked up. How about we leave race out of this equation."

no t, no shade.  but I had to read.

It wasn't long until we finished our drinks and peaced out ourselves. The sun was just about to rise, so naturally, I told Bohoken that we should run to the beach naked since we had a private walk. He was not having it, so I did it on my own. Not nearly as fun but freeing nonetheless.

We slept until about 2 before dropping by DR!P (always a good time) where we ran into the hot black guys from the night before. Did I mention that I happened to get one's number? Yeah.

Click here to check out FIBO '10 (in 2 parts).

nude sunbathers that were actually hot (La Demence Days 6 & 7: Ibiza, Last Dance and, well, you can guess the rest)

Click here to check out Day 5: a drag party, a fetish party and a masculine Scandinavian from Grindr.

After all the legends and stories and that Venga Boys song, I was finally going to see Ibiza for myself. I managed to get to the gay beach for an afternoon of bubbly sangria (because apparently that exists), drag queen parades and nude sunbathers that were actually hot. My well-earned disco nap afterwards lasted until about 11:30. We boarded a shuttle to the Old City around midnight, planning to catch one of the last shuttles back to the boat around 4.

oh, like you've never paid someone to pose with you before!

See, the thing about Ibiza is that it's in Spain. And Spaniards don't really go out ‘til like 2:30ish. So as tempted as I was to check out a bar or club, I knew it would be deserted. During our midnight walk through the Old City, Bohoken pointed out to me that tables were full of families and older couples having dinner.

Of course, Bohoken wanted to climb to the top of some huge mountain to see the view from Catedral de la Verge de les Neus (ironically, Cathedral of Our Lady of the Snows). Hell, I had nothing better to do. But as we ascended, I got more and more paranoid: this area's streets were clean, well lit and deserted. We'd run into the occasional tourist, but it was silent, save for our footsteps and conversation. Right when we got inside the cathedral walls, I turned to my right to see a stone wall with a narrow 2-foot platform. The next second, arms appeared out of nowhere, grabbing for me. After I yelped and jumped, I saw the smiling face of a street performer who was painted to blend in with the wall. I'm telling you, if I'd've been holding a piss, it would have been down my leg by now.

We made it to the foot of the cathedral and took in the view without further incident, though the performer was gone by the time we retraced our steps.

On the way up, we passed Anfora, which I surmised from the Manhunt-sponsored party poster must be a gay club. On the way back down, we stopped in and paid their 10 euro cover in exchange for a drink ticket. The bartender didn't even flinch when I asked for a citron and Red Bull, and he gave me the whole can. Let me tell you: money hungry bar owners would never let that $3 go in NYC, and brain dead bartenders would be more likely to flat-out deny your request rather than to just charge you the extra $3 for the upgrade.

you can tell by the tiling it's a classy joint

The downstairs of Anfora is made to look like a cave with dim red lighting on the rocky walls and a sunken dance floor. Upstairs is the bar area (and possibly a dark room) with multiple spaces. It was pretty slow upstairs, but we decided to settle in until it got going. After serving a few drinks, our hot bartender changed from his street clothes to a military slut outfit in front of us. It was quite a show.

As expected, it got going much later (after I'd had several drinks). A few fellow passengers that I hadn't ever talked to introduced themselves as they arrived to the upstairs bar, recognizing a familiar face outside their cliques.

BTW, do you remember hOtter, the guy I dated for a while last year who lived in Queens? He showed up at the bar. Of all the places in the world (literally). What could have been an awkward situation turned into more drinks. In fact, the 3 of us basically hung out together and yelled at people until they kicked us out of the bar at closing.

Oh, hello, daylight.

Dominique Dawes... Gabby Douglas... D. Kareem...

Bohoken and I had made a conscious decision to not even worry about the shuttle bus, which had stopped running hours ago, and took a cab back to the ship where we found the party that they'd held on the ship was still going on. They'd invited 250 locals to come on board, but I'm pretty sure they'd been kicked off by that point.

By the time I'd woken up the next afternoon, I had just enough brain power to slip on a speedo and head out to the pool for the last tea dance. It really felt like a bonding moment for the passengers of the ship. The collective attitude: "Okay, we're done trying to impress each other. Let's just have a good time."

That evening, after the last nighttime party (it was late enough so that Bohoken had already gone to bed), I found myself making out with a very hot Israeli. It seemed like a couple of hours we were hanging out and dancing together in the disco, but then he was like, "Stay here. I'll be back in 5 minutes." I assumed he was excusing himself to do drugs, but it happened like 3 times in a half hour. So then, he pulls me over to where his friends are (one of whom I'd hooked up with), and it turns out his other hot Israeli friend just broke up with his boyfriend. Then the 3 Israelis step away for a pow wow with only two (the hottie that I'd hooked up with and the hottie that had just broken up) returning.

I have no idea what they talked about in their pow wow or where the guy I'd been hanging out with went. What I do know was that I can now highly recommend topping two Israelis.

By the time that had wrapped up and I had returned to the disco for one last champagne, I noticed I had reception on my phone which meant we must be very near land. Rather than sleeping for the last hour, I went to the front of the top deck and watched us pull into the harbor at Marseilles. It was a bit depressing to pass the pool on my way to our cabin and see the staff scrubbing down the deck for the next cruise.

is that Russia?

After dealing with the line to disembark, we got a shuttle back to the train station. Bohoken managed to move our train tickets up 2 hours, which was a great idea because I was falling asleep in the McDonald's chair. We lost our first-class status, but that hardly made a difference once we got on the train.

Did I mention I slept for about 20 of the 24 hours we had in Paris before our flight back to JFK? Yeah.

Click here to start over at Day 1: someone gets soaking wet at the Military Party.

Click here to see my last day on the Atlantis Cruise: "do you like jock straps?" 

One particularly sexy, masculine Scandinavian (La Demence Cruise Day 5: Ladies Tea Dance & the Fetish Party)

Click here for Day 4. 

On the cruise guide, they called this day the Day of Extremes: the Ladies Tea Dance (drag) and the Fetish Party. Now, for this drag party, I refused to pack more shit than we needed or to deal with 2 hours of prep time. Plus, it's really hard to find heels in my size. But don’t think for a second that I wussed out on our costumes.

About 2 years ago, American Apparel was basically giving you clothes if you bought a clearance item on their website. All the clothes for guys kinda sucked, so I bought a bunch of shit that would work for simple drag. I finally had a chance to use it!

The effect we were going for was Jersey housewives around the house.

these are my vacuuming pearls.

Imagine my surprise when I saw this at JFK.

her mobster husband shot me a dirty look for this, but I got it!

As with everything, these bitches on this boat turned it for the drag party. One particularly sexy, masculine Scandinavian, with whom I'd chatted a bit on Grindr was working it OUT in the heels and leotard he'd chosen. Very "Single Ladies".

this bitch...

As much fun as I had tossing my hair, I really couldn't wait to get that hot wig off. I don't see how these girls (and gurls) do it in the summer.

Bohoken and I didn't do much of anything in the early evening except chill the fuck out. But boy did the freaks come out at night for the Fetish Party! I don't think I've ever seen so many different colors for harnesses in one place. One French guy had red, white and blue leather incorporated into a single harness!

All this time, I couldn't wait to see what Madame Brussels was wearing, but I spent a good 2 hours wandering around without a sign of her. Finally, I ran into her by the main bar wearing a vinyl outfit and a chain mail glove-type thingy. But what was most notable was that she had 3 needles in her shoulder with a trickle of dried blood, which she described as "not enough".

remember what I said about boxes on Manhunt...

Here's the thing I forgot to mention about our Fetish Party presentation. Back in Hoboken, while we were packing for the cruise, Bohoken tossed the leash that Med School Mess had left from my birthday party on our pile of leather. I didn't take him seriously for a couple of seconds, but then I thought . o O (Eh, why not!)

So at the Fetish Party, I was swinging this leash attached to a spare collar around, offering it to various hotties. At one point, we'd left the party, and as we walked though the hallway, a slim Spaniard took us up on the offer. In fact, he was eager to follow through. Unfortunately, he wasn't much of a bottom (valiant effort nonetheless), so I went back out and found Bohoken a more apt sub to leash up.

in your dreams... or nightmares...

Did I mention that said bottom successfully completed two levels of our game? Yeah.

And did I mention that at one point Bohoken encouraged and filmed this? 

Yeah. (It's moments like this that remind me why I blog.)

To really get a sense of the outfits and atmosphere at these parties, you need to see more pictures. So add me on Facebook. I have a whole album :-)

Speaking of fetish gear, click here to check out the most recent time I went to the Black Party in NYC. 

things I don't even think Manhunt has “into” boxes for (La Demence Cruse Day 4: Disco Tea Dance & The White Party)

Click here to check out Day 3: Pompeii, Napoli, the sex show w/ porn stars & the Uniforms party. 

I woke up after a few hours of sleep after the Uniforms party (and the aftermath) and looked our the window, seeing shore about half a mile away. And then I saw a lifeboat puttering away from the ship.

. o O (Lawd Jesus, I done slept through da 'nouncement! We's 'bout ta DIE!)

Then I remembered that Giardini-Naxos didn't have a proper port, so they had to drop anchor and shuttle us in by boat. But you see how that half-second of coming to terms with my mortality had me talking like a slave in my head, right!

We hadn't planned a formal excursion for our Sicily stop, so when we got to the shore, Bohoken suggested we go to the end of a dock and take in the view, which, of course, prompted an impromptu photo shoot.

If someone says that your pic reminds them of "Starships", is that a good thing?

RomaRomaMan had told us that Taormina is a must-see, and it was only a few kilometers from Giardini-Naxos. We didn’t see the shuttle we’d paid for, so we talked to a cab driver who suggested that we wait for the next boat and recruit some more gays to split the 30 euro cab ride.

We filled the van and took the windiest, narrowest, most scary mountain road to Taormina. It really was beautifully scenic: the shops, the views, the Godfather t-shirts. Oh, and possibly my favorite piece of scenery, the impossibly hot bartender at the cafe who brought our prosecco (and his infectious smile) to our outdoor table. I convinced Bohoken to buy his mother (whose grandparents are from Sicily) a souvenir, explaining to him that it was more about the thought than buying the perfect gift. "Dude, moms love that shit!"

We eventually figured out that where the shuttle’s pick-up point was, which involved quite a few wrong turns before the designated time of departure. But a carefully executed "he looks gay; follow him" plan got us exactly where we needed to be.

We had just enough time to change into our outfits for the Disco tea dance. Now, for the Atlantis cruise, I was quite upset when they confiscated the roller skates I'd donned as part of my costume. Imagine my surprise when I saw two guys wearing roller skates at this party. Luckily, the ship was rocking that day.

says: "nice skates." means: "I hope you roll overboard, skinny roller-bitch!"

The best-dressed award of the day went to the guy who wore the glitter cock sock-type thing with glitter leg warmer-type things. He had the body and the tan lines to pull it off well.

After the disco party, they had another karaoke session, and it was packed! I really wanted to sing something, but between yelling over the music at parties and not sleeping, it was tough times for my voice. I probably should have gone for something safer, but hell, I'd already done so many things I shouldn't have done by this point. And given that it was just after the disco party (and many guys were still in costume), there really was no way I could not sing this song.

As a serious karaoke artist, I couldn't have asked for a better situation. A higher vocal range, maybe, but the situation was definitely ideal.

It was then time to get dressed for the White Party. On the way to the pool deck, I insisted on walking via the upper deck for a windy photo shoot. The only problem was the lack of wind, but we made it work.

I'd put Bohoken to bed early that night (maybe 5), and while I was still out, I met the woman I'd been eyeing since day one when I saw her leather corset, fishnet top and the electrical tape over her nipples.

Madame Brussels stood close to 6' tall in flats, and her low-hawk had remnants of blue and purple dye from earlier adventures. Despite the S&M gear, she always seemed to be smiling when I saw her around the boat. I'm not sure how we started talking, but it was apparent that we'd both been friend-crushing from afar.

We spent a good couple of hours in her cabin just talking about our radically different lives. Madame Brussels worked nights in transit (because the night shift wasn't as strict about her piercings showing) after working with La Demence for years. She told me she lives in the suburbs with her husband and 4 children, but she rents a flat in the center of Brussels as an S&M studio. Honey, she told me about things I don't even think Manhunt has “into” boxes for!

One of her cabin mates came back and beckoned us to the after party in the disco. After a glass of prosecco, I ran into an Israeli guy I'd hooked up with a couple of nights earlier (no, the second one, but he was friends with the other one, it turns out). That turned into another 2-hour conversation, mostly on our views of non-monogamy, his experience at Burning Man and his outrage that I could live in NYC for this long and have never heard of Radical Fairies.

By this time, I really needed to take my not-on-drugs ass to bed. But did I mention that I could sleep in since the next day was at sea? Yeah!

Click here to check out day 5: the drag tea dance and a fetish party (with video!). 

Click here to check out the White Party on the Atlantis Allure of the Seas Cruise (warning: it gets a bit dirty)

some live, hot man-fucking (La Demence Cruise Day 3: Pompeii; Napoli; a live sex show with porn stars; and the Uniform party)

Click here to check out Day 2.

Our first stop was Napoli, one of the largest cities in Italy. Many people said it was a seedy town, so we only took our ship IDs and some cash. We'd bought excursions for a walking tour of Pompeii, a 20-ish minute bus ride away, and a tour of Napoli.

Let me tell you: Pompeii was totally Bohoken's obsession. Personally, I would have been just fine to sleep in, walk around Napoli in the afternoon and right-click on someone else's Pompeii photos like, "And look what else you can do in Italy!" Instead, I dragged ass to the theater to meet our group and disembark at 10:15am. Yay.

had to force myself to not sing that Ke$ha song the whole time

It turns out Pompeii is an actual current city with a thriving (read: alive) population. There's even a Burger King and a 9/11 memorial (I'm not sure why, but I was touched nonetheless). We had a tour of a portion of the ruins with an Italian female guide who gave her facts in both English and French. We also had some rambunctious gays who added their commentary to everything she said in French. They thought they were hilarious, but after the first 15 minutes, I'm sure even those who understood them began to tire of the middle school antics. Though I have to admit that maybe every 20th prank actually made me guffaw.

Our tour was entertaining and educational and not nearly as much torture as I was expecting (can you tell walking tours aren't my thing?). Back at the drop-off point, I was looking for some vodka to spike my frosty drink (oh, like you didn't see that coming), and I wandered past a bunch of vendor tents. One of the vendors started waving at me and saying what I thought was an offer to take a picture of his table. It took me a second to see that he wanted me to pose for a picture of me with his young hot friend.

"Sure!"

Apparently I got "good price" for the fans I got for a few female family members. I passed on the winged erection statues he was selling, mostly for weight reasons, but I did get a few inappropriate magnets to commemorate the pictorial menu on the walls of the Pompeii brothel.

waterfront property, but it's a pain to heat in the winter.

Ps, it wasn't until I wrote that last sentence that I made the connection between the drawings on the magnets and on the brothel walls. Fuck you, I was on 3 hours sleep!

Our tour of Napoli was basically a quick bus ride, but Bohoken and I did our own wandering after. Iconic Italian balconies with clothing drying on them were all we saw above us on the side streets. I almost expected an opera soprano to treat us to an aria while she spread a sheet to dry in the sun.

If you ever go to Napoli, definitely go to Pizza e Babba on Via Monteclvario (just off of Via Medina). While the service was, well, European, the food was excellent! Fresh pasta, fresh mussels... and now I feel like Mary J. Blige in a Burger King commercial. Just trust, the food was awesome!

After our food and wine, we dodged motorbikes ambled around until we saw an entrance for the Napoli Metro. Being the slight transit nerd that I am, I led Bohoken underground.

I felt like I'd walked into Yotel (if you've never heard of it, ultra- modern hotel that's almost Pokemon themed with a great brunch special at the restaurant). The lobby was all bright colors, shiny surfaces and fucking spotless! I had to see the rest of the station.

it's caaaaaaandy mountain, Charrrrrrrlie! 

After a bit of hesitation from Bohoken, I convinced him to get us passes for the train even though we had nowhere to go. The station just got more and more cool as we went in. It was all pinks and yellows and whites with lighted tiles overhead and orange handrails on the escalators. The train platform itself smelled like a basement, and the train itself wasn't that remarkable when it arrived, but it was totally worth the euro or two fare to walk around and check it out.

Back on the ship, they'd put up notices for the day's shows, and one of them was the "Sexy Show" featuring porn stars that I'd seen in the cruise guide before we'd come. It was pretty ambiguous what "Sexy Show" meant, even when I read the "Sex Show" on the notice in the elevator. All I knew was that I wasn't missing this damned show.

Bohoken and I arrived about 10 minutes early to get a good spot. They held the show in the disco where they had a bed in the middle of the dance floor lit with black lights. On it, a European muscle-twink displayed himself in a jock strap with a hard on, stroking himself through the fabric and posing for photos. 2 tall, muscular white guys crossed the dance floor fully clothed and went into the dark room backstage area, so I assumed one was the top and one was the fluffer.

deck 8: no coincidence. 

While all this was going on, they had some kind of electronic mood music playing and a guy with a accent that I couldn't pinpoint on a microphone. It was astounding how unsexy his set-the-mood voice was.

"Ooooo, are you feeling sexy?"

"Are you ready for some live, hot man-fucking?"

"Mmmm, sooooo hot!"

"That's a nice ass. I bet you are going to be very comfortable in that ass."

And THEN they had a drag queen host. Now, I love Nickie Nicole, but there is no quicker boner killer than a drag queen's occasional sighing and moaning in her female persona. It was no surprise that the top had trouble getting going.

After about 15 minutes of the very eager bottom giving head (the top was quite rough with him), Nickie Nicole announced a "big finish". I thought the show was about to end without them fucking, but the top got his hard-on going, grabbed a condom and some lube (and some spit) and worked that young Euro ass OUT!

wait, so this ISN'T the buffet?

Then here comes Nickie Nicole over to the bed as they're fucking. I was like "Oh lord. What now?" I wasn't prepared for her to do what could be considered the smartest thing I saw the whole week: she sat down on the bed next to the couple, leaned in towards the bottom and held the microphone up to his mouth so the crowd could hear him moan as he got relentlessly pounded.

After the required money shot, Nickie Nicole planted a kiss on both penises (yes, girl!) and offered the boys for photos. Everyone had their cameras out (did I mention the cruise ship staff person [from the boat, not the gay coordinating company] who had been filming the whole show?), but no one wanted to go up.

"Well, if nobody's gonna come up, I'm just gonna have to call people up. And I want somebody who looks like me! Somebody dark to put between these to European men. Any hot black guys?"

I stood there on the front row of people standing (they'd asked the first 5 or so rows of people to sit on the floor), hoping she wouldn't call me out. I have this thing about other people's bodily fluids getting on me. And I def wasn't trying to accidentally brush up against some Wet Platinum and stain my outfit!

Finally, a European guy got up and sat on the bed between the actors, who were standing on the bed above him so that their crotches were just above eye level.

strategic blurring

Nickie: "Oh my god, do I have to direct everything? You're posing with two hot porn stars! Grab something!"

He grabbed both dicks and smiled for the camera. Then the top took his dick and tapped it on the guy's head. Then his face. Then he pushed the guy’s face into the bottom's ass. The guy made the best of an awkward situation and started licking like there was Pinkberry in there! The crowd went wild!

"We will be holding auditions later, so write down your name and your cabin number..."

I'd had my fill of Sexy Show for the day.

I wanted to do the piano karaoke that night, but the piano player only knew French songs.

After dinner, we got changed for the Uniforms party. Bohoken and I went for the cheap Chippendale look with bow ties, collars and cuffs with black undies. Bohoken originally wanted to do Star Trek (which would have been brilliant and totally unique among the crowd at the party), but the costumes they had at the store we went do didn't fit.

I don't know how exactly we were introduced, but we started talking to the cutest Asian guy. The Aussie accent was a huge bonus. After a bit, we invited him to our cabin.

does France actually have a navy? do I really care?

Him: "I don't know. I mean, I really want to, but I don't want to leave my friend."

Me: "Considering I haven't seen said friend since we started talking, something tells me he's fine. Here's what you do: buy him a drink and tell him you'll be back in an hour. He'll total—"

Him: "Let's go."

Me: "Huh? Er, I mean, cool."

Did I mention I love my life? Yeah.

Speaking of Aussie hotness, click here to check out my last night in Melbourne, VIC, Australia. 

Click here to check out Day 4: The Disco tea dance & the White Party.

leather, lingerie, a leather cock sock (La Demence Cruise Day 2: The Pageant; Where Are You From; Underwear Party)

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Day 2 started around 2pm with lots of water (free bottled water at any bar since soft drinks are included in the price of the cruise!). By the time I got myself together, I only had time to grab the bread and deli meat that Bohoken had brought to the cabin from the buffet between meals and take it to the theater for Mr. La Demence Cruise pageant.

This pageant was based on 3 rounds: your own clothing, swim/underwear and creative, which required making your own "clothing" from toilet paper, balloons and a hula hoop. Since there was such an international audience, the pageant had 2 drag hosts announcing in 2 different languages: Nickie Nicole, an English-speaking NYC queen who's been living in Amsterdam, and Koka from France. 

I'll try one of each, please.

 

As the competition went on, Bohoken and I picked out our favorites. Turkey, Israel, France and Romania stuck out among others.

Things got really interesting with the creative round. While some guys just threw on the underwear from the previous round, wrapped toilet paper around their heads and carried a couple of balloons in their hands, Mr. Argentina made a sort of toilet paper brief which, much to his chagrin, didn't quite survive his walk around the stage. Mr. France made a very flowy hula skirt while Mr. Spain got some fishing line and tied two balloons in front of his junk. Un/fortunately, there was nothing to hold said balloons in place, and he made no effort to minimize his stride across the stage.

Mr. Turkey was the predictable winner, walking away with a trip to Brussels (2nd place was a weekend trip to somewhere on the Med, and 3rd place, I believe, was a portable sling, much like the one in the dark room).

After a proper meal, we headed back to the cabin to prepare for the next tea dance: Where Are You From? Because there were over 60 nationalities represented, it was sure to be a spectacular event. 

no, it's not America.

One thing that Bohoken and I share is Irish heritage (though his is a bit more of a direct connection than mine). We decided to pay homage to the mother land and represent her colors in our outfits: white socks with green accents, green short shorts with white accents, green accessories and orange body paint. Predictably, after almost an hour of painting, my body paint showed up in exactly one photo the whole day, but I was very happy with how Bohoken turned out.

Bohoken had expressed that he thought the crowd was a bit reserved with the costumes up til that point (I didn't quite agree), but this party put any appearances of holding back to rest. People represented in every fucking color and flag and national symbol (and stereotype)! We even had a French queen straight out of a Pepe LePew cartoon in a beret and a black/white striped shirt (of course she was holding a cigarette). Between poses for photos, we managed to find time to dance, too!

As expected, it took quite a bit of work to get the body paint off. Off our skin, off the sink, off the shower walls and curtain. It was like a fucked up parody of the Midas touch. But if you’re going to stand out on a cruise ship of 1300 gays, sometimes you gotta use a bit of elbow grease. 

fuck you; I'm Irish.

 

The early evening activity to see and be scene at was karaoke. Now, y'all know how I am about karaoke, and they were having it in the lounge where my fave bartender worked nights! They hadn't even started setting up when we ordered our first drink, but we were in no rush. But it turned out that the staff wasn't quite prepared for the phenomenon that is gay karaoke. We had to go up to the computer and scroll in Windows Media Player to the song we were hoping for by finding the artist. Eventually, they found a search function and got a written list going, but karaoke only lasted for an hour. When drag hostess Nickie Nicole implored them to extend it for 3 more songs (getting the crowd on her side), the staff still enforced the time limit, suggesting everyone go to the show that was scheduled in the theater.

We took that as a sign to go to our cabin to prepare for the underwear party. When we first started planning for this trip, I didn't anticipate planning anything beyond what I'd wear to a Pieces underwear party. I figured I'd let my muscles do the heavy lifting this time (tee hee). But then I found the cutest briefs with jean-like details that included a fake fly, rivets and even belt loops! I had to have them!

3 sets of push-ups and leg lifts later, we were by the pool snapping photos and dancing to dark house beats. Of course, some of the guys got much more creative with their outfits for this party: leather, lingerie, a leather cock sock and even a full-body spandex strappy thing with the ass out. 

the observer becomes the observed.

Did I mention we had out first port and excursion the next day? Did I mention I didn't get even close to an appropriate amount of rest the night before to deal with a walking tour? Yeah.

Click here to check out Day 3 where I finally figured out what this mysterious "Sexy Show"was.

Click here to check out my first night in Hong Kong. 

Daniel Nardicio's 10 Rules for How to Get a Hot Guy!

Nightlife master and crowned King of NYC Queer Sleaze Daniel Nardicio had some awesome advice in his weekly newsletter (shoot him a message at daniel@danielnardicio.com to join the list). I couldn't have said this better myself. He's agreed to let me share it with you here, so enjoy!

This week I place my tongue firmly in cheek to report on a question I get all the time:

"Daniel, you lead such a fun life, but how do you surround yourself with all these hot guys??" 

Ok, it's true, I'm not exactly Ridge...

Ridge

But lets face it- most of us arent. But I do believe you can get with a cute guy no matter what you look like.

So, in the spirit of Autumn, I've decided to jot down my...

10 Rules for How to Get a Hot Guy!

Let's face it— men are visual. We work off visual clues and aspire to bed creatures with these visual clues. But most of us aren't blessed genetically— in fact the opposite. Many people have commented on why I am surrounded by so many good looking guys. Yes some of them are on my staff (I JUST realized how sexual that sounds!). But mostly its because I've mastered the art of bagging hot guys.

I could make millions off these tips, but I've decided to give them FREE to you, my dear readers.

 

10 tips on how an average guy can get a hot guy.

 

1.) Never tell them how good looking they are. It's boring, they probably already know, and you'd never go up to a rich person and say: "You have so much money!!" Instead be charming, funny and approach them as if you are on their level.

 

2.) If they used to be fat, glance occaisionally at their mid section disapprovingly but NEVER say anything. This is just a move to make if they are starting to give attitude. And these are virtual gold mines— I firmly believe if you can bag an ex-fat guy it's the holy grail because they are so appreciative in bed!

 

3.) Keep all your fair weather friends away from them. This is especially true on Fire Island~ a girlfriend is a girlfriend, but put some drinks in them and they'll throw you overboard faster than you can say "Angelina Jolie!" 

 

4.) Pretend he's smart. Even if he's not, just pretend he is— it's easier. Plus I've learned throughout the years: smart guys think they're dumb often, and sadly, dumb guys think they are smart.

 

5.) Treat him like a prince in bed. 'nuff said.

 

6.) Listen- this is a general rule all around.

 

7.) Act interested in anything he finds interesting. 

 

8.) Don't pay for anything. If you want a hooker, go to rentboy.com. 

(If you start by buying drinks and paying for things, you will quickly become "that guy"— the cash cow.) 

 

9.) Repeat after me: "Hot guys are like buses— wait 5 minutes and another one will come." Don't be desperate. If a guy gives you the brush off, move on. If he's rude (which happens in the Pines) try this line: "Why not lower your standards— I did!"  Try to snap a pic of their face when you say this and send it to me!

 

10.) If I'm heading into a shark tank (a room full of hot guys) I decide to, erm, take matters into my own hands before I go. In other words, don't go there horny) we've all made stupid decisions when revved up, and the best advice I can give you is- if you go into the shark tank with no agenda , you can work the room like a calm sexy self assured guy you are.

Check out Daniel's website danielnardicio.com to get the latest updates on his insane parties on Fire Island (yes, still) and in the City. 

Looking for more advice? Click here check out TheBlackoutBlog's Top 11 Online Dating and Hookup Tips.

where to have public sex (La Demence Cruise Day 1)

On Sunday morning, we checked out of our hotel in Paris and hauled our bags through the Metro to Gare de Leon, the major train station for the TGV, France's high-speed train. The ride from Paris to Marseilles was an unremarkable 3 hours in relative comfort. We had first-class seats, but other than plugs and a tad more leg room, there wasn't much difference between those and the economy seats we had on the way back. The landscape outside of Paris looked very much like midwestern farmland whereas the south of France reminded me of the California dessert.

Our first taxi of the trip took us from the train station to the cruise terminal for about 25 euros. The first step of our check-in, dropping off our bags, was smooth and involved the cutest French guy stumbling through a welcome and instructions in English.

the Horizon will remember the name D. Kareem

After we set up our credit card account for the ship, we were amazed by how few people were in line. But then we got upstairs. The line had to be around 300 of the 1300 registered passengers, and it inched along at a glacial pace. Unfortunately, the fruit punch they sent the cute server through the line with wasn't spiked. It was nearly 2 hours before we stepped up to the desk to have our passports checked and to receive our ID cards for the ship.

On the bright side, by the time we got to our room, our bags were waiting for us.

By this point, I was pretty damn hungry, so we went to the ship map in our hall to find the buffet. Turns out, it was a 60-second walk from our cabin! Even better news when we got there: wine was only $2/glass and $8/bottle!

"Two rosés, please!"

I love France.

By the time our lunch was done, it was about time to head to the Welcome Party. Unlike most of the other parties planned for the ship, this one did not have a costume theme (and as much as a certain someone complained about having to check a bag, he certainly enjoyed the compliments we got on our costumes for the parties), so I threw on a speedo and my winningest smile.

what do you mean I can't bring my bottle to the pool! get me a plastic one, then!

Aside from the line to get IDs for the ship, this was the opportunity to make first impressions and to set the pace for the rest of the week. It was important to look great while keeping some mystery to reveal throughout the rest of the cruise. I chose the classic, reserved brief-cut speedo with Timbs and braided my hair.

At the party, we ended up chatting it up with a couple of Germans who invited us to dinner with them and their friends in the more formal restaurant (on a normal cruise, a jacket might be required, but on a gay cruise, a skank tank would suffice). We went to our rooms just long enough to change into actual clothes and went to the restaurant to look for our new acquaintances.

Here commenced an awkward mess. We came to the entrance, and there were 7 or 8 hosts waiting to seat passengers. We had to explain to them that we were meeting people who may have already been seated, and we wanted to look for them. The Germans were on the far side of the restaurant, and when we finally found them, the 6 of them were already seated at a table for 6. One of the guys we'd met at the party asked straight away if they could seat us at a bigger table, which they did quickly.

70% of the rest of the dinner took place in German. Luckily, the German who had asked for the bigger table talked in English with us a good bit, as did the couple next to us. But we definitely didn't feel a part of the group. So once the main course was done, we excused ourselves from the table to escape the awkwardness and to take a much needed power nap before the military party.

I can't understand a word you're saying... that makes it so much better.

After a blissful 30 (I refer to my power naps by their length), we got our outfits together and went back to the pool deck for the first themed party of the night. Much dancing occurred on the rim of the ,76m deep smaller pool as that was a platform that wasn't as crowded as the bench between the shallow pool and the DJ booth. Said bench and the stage with the DJ booth (maybe 20m apart) where the main dance floor where 80% of the party had crowded into. As I was dancing, I noticed a small dark object at the bottom of the pool and rolled my eyes, saying to Bohoken, "See, this is why we can't have nice things. Bitches already dropping things in the water."

Eventually, Bohoken was over it, so I walked with him back to the room. That's when I realized I didn't have my ID card. I'd stuffed it and the lanyard it came with in the pocket of my too-small-to-fully-cover-my-ass shorts without connecting the lanyard to a belt loop. I figured it had fallen out in one of the two places I'd been dancing at the party since I'd bought our last round of drinks (on the ship, you charge drinks on your ID card).

The ID card wasn't on the ground at either of my two dancing spots. That’s when I remembered the dark object at the bottom of the pool. Sure enough, when I looked closely, it was an ID card with a lanyard attached.

I'd braided my hair in a ponytail so that it would be wavy the next day, so when I saw that the pool was marked .76m deep (maybe 2.5 ft... which I only had to look up to verify), I knew it would require a head to be submerged to retrieve it. I showed Bohoken where the ID was, hoping he'd jump into action because he knows how much I don't like going into cold, chlorinated water. After about 3 seconds of his not doing so (at that point, I wasn't going to ask my 5'6 bf to do a deep underwater reach just to save my hair if he didn't volunteer himself), I got down on my hands and knees to prepare myself for the dunk. Another pause… nothing from Bohoken. I took a breath and plunged my head under. It took me a couple of grabs, but I was able to retrieve my ID without a problem.

I really don't do water.

Bohoken: "Babe! I didn't think you were going to dunk your head in the water! I thought you could reach!"

Me: "You have two assignments right now: get glasses and learn the metric system."

After drying off, changing clothes and tucking a very tired Bohoken into bed, I headed to the after party in the disco, which was still quite busy. I noticed a row of curtains on the far side of the dance floor with duct-tape arrows all pointing the same way. Those arrows, as it turned out, led to the entrance to the make-shift dark room, which had been mentioned in the cruise guide La Demence had emailed us beforehand.

Can we take a second to marinate on the fact that the company coordinating this cruse a) pointed out to patrons where to have public sex and b) negotiated this with the cruise company who had to explain this to their staff? This is why I love Europe.

I took a quick walk through the dark room (solely for journalistic purposes), and it was nothing exceptional until I got to the far side where there was some kind of hanging object. I really had no desire to stay back there long enough to figure it out what it was.

After a quick trip to Tel Aviv, I retuned to the disco (it was probably around 6) to find the party still notably populated.

that left hand is doing exactly what you think it is.

Did I mention the curtains for the dark room had been slowly falling throughout the night and were by this point completely on the floor? Did I mention that that hanging object in the dark room turned out to be a portable sling? Yeah.

Click here to check out Day 2.

Last year, I went on an Atlantis Cruise. Click here to check out my first day on the Allure with 5000 gay men.