A Hair Of The Porn That Bit You

In my last post I was calling upon the visitors to our little cyber-bar to see what they would like to see appear here in this little corner of our WWW, as I was finding my creative well, not dry per se, but at least deeper than the rope on the bucket would reach.

SkylersDad was the first to respond with the idea that I compare and contrast 70's mustache and hair porn with the new contemporary clean shaved look.This was to be a challenge. A Challenge of Epic proportions. The Gauntlet had been thrown down. And really? Who am I to refuse a free Gauntlet? If he threw down two I'd have a set, and winter is coming.

After a long period of intense contemplation, speculation, and agitation, I decided that the topic needed to be researched, and thoroughly. How long did I think it over you might ask? Three, maybe four seconds. There are just some decisions that are resolved quickly.

I set about my task.

My research would be much more informative and scintillating if I could have figured out how to turn the "SafeSearch" off. I would have had access to an unlimited amount of naked people from various time-frames. From what I understand, they even have short movies, but this is just hearsay.

I could have discussed how soundtracks could make or break a scene. I could point out the faults of new directors and their choice to make way too many close-ups. I could make some kind of astute comment that the casting of these films is totally reliant on who shows up. All of this and more would have made this article a critic's delight and a readers mouth's water.

But it was not to be.

So, instead, we will have to rely on my faulty memory and compare and contrast the four films of each of these era's that I can recall seeing. Mind you, the sampling is small, but I feel fairly representitive of their time. I recall reading somewhere, "That there is nothing new under the sun" and I think that this might apply to the subject at hand very aptly. People have been doing the oldest dance of man since there have been people to do it, but who could have told Mr. Kodak what his little innovation would be used for.

70's Porn: I have seen "Deep Throat" and "Debbie Does Dallas". I once saw a version of "Behind The Green Door", but it had been edited for t.v., and without the sex, I couldn't follow the plot. It was like watching a familiar play by Shakespeare, but everyone was playing every part and speaking all at once.

The plot to "Deep Throat" was simple. The main character was born a mutant, and her point of satisfaction could only be found at the back of her throat. The fact that her mother helps her solve this riddle, and then finds her a date!?!, is the part I always found the most disturbing.

"Debbie Does Dallas" was very straight forward as well. The cheerleading squad were participants in a school fund-raiser. Something not unheard of in this day and age. They were raising money to send fellow cheerleader, Debbie, to Denver so she could attend college there, and If I recall correctly, join her boyfriend. From my limited research, there was a film made of her arrival in Denver, but the cast could never repeat the magic of the first blockbuster.

In both of the 70's porn movies that I have seen, both make the pretence of making a real, honest-to-gosh movie. They have scenes outside, with dialog. There are minor characters that enter and exit a scene, and at no point do you see them naked, or ever appearing in the film again, yet every character has a hairdo just a little bit larger than the one before them. This seems to be some unwritten rule. And the mustaches! Wow! From elaborate handlebars to walrus mustaches that would have made Tom Selek look like Clark Gable in "Gone With The Wind", these guys displayed some lip-hair that would make a walrus blush. All of them could have made a Clydesdale feel short-changed. They could convince any women to give them a go. They tried very hard to ooze machismo, and that worked for them. These films tended to give the impression that when you weren't in line to buy expensive gasoline, or double-dipping at a fondue party, you were were nailing anything that would hold still long enough.

For something close to a more recent era, I'm afraid my selections are even more vague and eclectic than the last.

The first was a movie that was a collection of scenes from a whole years worth of work from an adult film company. If the collection was the best they had of the whole year, they had a lot of explaining to do to the stockholders. Picture for yourself on one sexual train-wreck after another. If you can see the boom mike in the shot, whatever movie magic you were shooting for is lost.

The other film was "Party Doll A Go-Go; One and Two". By my rough estimate, this film is twenty some odd years old now. I saw it as a double feature on a sleep-over with a buddy of mine from church. One of the most interesting features of the film was the fact that they made no pretence at a plot. Here are these people, armed with no story at all and clean-shaven at every point, and they are interconnected vaguely, and they want to roll in the hay with everybody else. The sets were contrived and false. The part of this movie that makes it stick out in my memory at all is the soundtrack and the dialog. The whole thing was done in beat poetry, with the bongos, slide-whistles, sound effects, and surf music, and that is what made the whole film. I would pay large sums of money for it's soundtrack. It is my all time favorite soundtrack, adult movie or not. It even hedged out "Resevoir Dogs", and that is saying something.

It is a good couples movie.

All in all, I must say this: the 70's porn still retained some small element of innocense, in much the same way as a junior-high dance, or a spin-the-bottle game. Sure, these people were getting naked and "getting it on", but the overall feel was something like tenderness and wonderment. "Party Doll A Go-Go" was alluring in the fact that they made no attempt at making these people "real" in the fact that they had jobs, bills, family, or obligations, but that these were people who were eager to have a go at each other and were willing to celebrate just being alive. The camera often catches them laughing.

The clips movie was a lot like watching an episode of "Jackass" of sex. Everything these people did was simply a dare they undertook for money. It was as joyless and sexy as having a boil lanced. Sure, all the gents were clean shaven and had perfect hair that could not be messed up by even the most acrobatic and violent sex act, the was no hint that perhaps, just maybe, they were enjoying themselves. The only thing that these movies had in common was that they tried to convince you that everyone is having a lot more sex than you, and if the clips film is to be taken at face value, I'd rather not.

Doc

The Tangled Webs We Weave: Part IX

My friend Megan comes out to the Sunday night rave party with me occasionally and has now decided she wants the bartender, Mike. So she writes her number down and asks me to give it to him. I take it to Mike and he says "I don't call girls, they call me" and won't take the number. I asked him "what the fuck kinda answer is that?" He just shook his head, gave me my drink and told me to go sit down and figure it out. So the next time I get back to the bar, I ask him if he would like Megan to call him and I will give her his number. He dodges the issue and says that if I promise to write a story for my magazine on him and the club, he will have a Cleveland Browns party just for me here at the bar during the first pre-season game. He says he'll let me paint his head like a Browns helmet for the party too. And he writes down his phone number and gives it to me. So I ask him, "do you want me to give it to Megan and tell her to call you?" And he says "Take the number and do what you want with it." Again, I asked what the hell that was supposed to mean and was once again told to go sit my ass down and figure it out. I didn't give Megan the number, I told her it was just the number to the club so I can arrange a meeting about the story. I still don't know whether he wants her to have the number or not so I just kept it. The story thing isn't going to work out until at least November or so.

The good news is that Bookbag saw all this and was left more than welcome to draw his own conclusions. haha...the "big talk" will have to come soon:

"So what's with you and Mike?"
"Nothing as of right now. I haven't had the time to call or see him, so until that happens, I can't really say anything. Why?"
"Oh, I just figured if you were hooking up with Mike that you were done being after me."
"Mmmm. Sort of, yeah. I guess it's just become less that I care because I'm after you and more that I care because I'm concerned for your well-being and I don't see things turning out very well for you. I think you're going to end up getting hurt, and if I keep pursuing you I'm going to get hurt too."
"Why? What do you mean?"
"I just-I see your life getting worse before it gets better. I think you're setting yourself up for a situation where you're going to get stuck in something you can't get out of. I'm sure you do love your girlfriend, but you have no job, no way to support yourself, and nowhere else to go. Even if you did want to leave her, you couldn't. See, she's getting tired of being the girlfriend. She wants to get married and you really don't. One of three things could happen here and none of them look good for you...or me, for that matter.
She's gonna get tired of pushing the marraige bit and just boot your ass onto the street and be done with you. Kind of like an ultimatum: marry me or get out.
Or, she'll tell you she wants a baby and blow the hole wide the fuck open. I know through direct conversation that her biological clock is ticking and that she's starting to think about it...and she's only 27. That instinct is only going to get worse as she gets older.
And if you don't want a marraige and you don't want a baby, she'll do what she can to ensure that you do get her pregnant (condom broke, forgot a pill, etc.) and then you might as well marry her. You're stuck for the rest of your life and she's gotten everything she wanted anyway.
Regardless, it just sucks to be you, period. Let's face it, it would in your best interest to be with me, but it's in my best interest that you just stay with what you got."

The Tangled Webs We Weave - Part VII

I guess it's ritual now, every Sunday night there is a little rave-party with my name on it going on down in the Flats. I am the entertainment.

Bookbag is not good. He tells me he is "together" with his girlfriend. He's had a bad history with marraige, so he's not looking to do that again. He recently thought about ending the relationship but decided against it because of the bad history and he doesn't want to give up on another one. He says she's young (26) and sometimes handles things like a younger person.

Ooooooh yeah. She has no clue. She says things in front of me she probably shouldn't be saying, in part because she's drunk, in part because I make her feel comfortable talking to me, in part because I also make her nervous. She knows I'm moving in on her man and am quite capable of taking him, I see it in the way she behaves when I'm around. Well, I took what she said, what he said and put it with what I already know and this is what I've discovered:

Of course Bookbag loves her, right now she's his meal ticket. He can't leave her because he has no way to support himself; I don't know that he would even have a place to go. If he's telling me the truth, he's also got it in his head that settling for what he has is more important than making an already bad track record look worse. He's going to stick this out partly because he wants to but mostly because he has to.

My mother did that once; stayed in a dysfunctional relationship with a man who beat us both for ten years because she didn't like the idea of chalking up two divorces. Real smart. My stepfather finally filed for divorce when he got himself a girlfriend.

And here's Bookbag gonna get fucked too. Big-time.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA...poor Bookbag, I've got his number and hers.

Marrying him is important to her and his inability to go along with that annoys her enough she has no problem making it public. Bookbag was adamant to me about not getting married again, having done it twice and ending badly, and I believe him. She's eventually gonna get tired of being the girlfriend and she's gonna push him to put a ring on her finger, it's already starting to happen. He might even get an ultimatum. O.U.C.H.

Or he might get trapped, and that's worse. One of our fellow regulars at the Sunday night club/rave brought her boyfriend's dog to the party last night. I happened to be standing by the girlfriend and made the comment "Great. I'm such a dog person, I won't be able to pay attention to the hot guys anymore because I'll be too busy playing with the dog. This happens every time."

She laughed. "Oh yeah, puppies and babies. I just get all giggly over them."

"Oh, okay, for me it's just the dogs, but it's still retarded."

Laughs again. "Oh, I'm like that with babies, too. I'm starting to get a little older and that stuff is starting to kick in, ya know, haha."

Yeah, I know all about that. So does my birth control. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

And wait till Bookbag finds out. He seems so thrilled about the possibility of marraige, I'm sure he's gonna love this....

He better be careful, because as soon as she figures out she's gonna lose him, she could end up pregnant, because women are manipulative like that. If I haven't given up on him by then, I sure as fuck will when that happens....

I still don't know what he's thinking of me and hopefully that part will come out next. I'm not even sure I can call him a friend, really. Can we be friends with this thing hanging over our heads? How long until it's my turn to get taken advantage of, will I be a friend then?

Speaking of friends, it seems the smartest idea for me would be to stop going Sunday nights, but I can't. I'm making new friends there all the time, and the people with whom I was at acquaintance-level with before this started, I am getting closer and closer to. We spend every Sunday night together now, and we already did adore each other, but now we're becoming closer simply by location. I can't lose that, I love that, it's what makes my life so damned important. I can't just stop because of Bookbag.

the tangled webs we weave - part VI

Mandy and I went to the club for the DJ set Chris was promoting. Once again, I happened to get too drunk and stayed way too long...it is now 2:58 a.m.

Darius was there again, too, and I confessed to him how I felt about Chris and without going into detail, Darius told me to give up on it. The hurt I was looking so greatly to avoid looks as though it is the only inevitable end to this. I may be manipulated, "played by the playa", I be mooched from, I may be used. They are not doing very well right now, financially or personally. It is a great time for me to hussle my way into the picture and it is just as horrible a time at that.

So how much hurt can I handle? It is really going to be about her in the end, even though I am a much more dynamic person? Can I just be "flirting friends" until he figures out how much more extraordinary I am than what he has?

There were a lot of people there tonight and he didn't have much time to flirt with me; all we did was play "staring contest" a few times. He watched me dance, like he always does.

We were out in the car smoking before I left and he again kissed me goodbye. Again, he opened his mouth but I didn't open mine. I will next week now that I know to expect that from him and see how far I can get him to go with me. A tongue down the throat would be satisfactory.

The problem for poor Chris is that I'm smarter than him, and the need for self-preservation will prevent me from being manipulated. He needs to be afraid that I may manipulate him, which the more I think about it becomes a better I could have fun with this....and maybe end up with him anyway.

My brain is stronger than my heart, always has been. I will do my best to not get hurt and fight for what I want anyway. I have to fight foreverything else, why not this, too?

The Tangled Webs We Weave: Part V

The bits and pieces I recall went a little something like this:

1. Chris's girlfriend was the first person who saw me when I came in. She told Chris and he came upstairs and I got the hug I've now come to expect.

2. Darius was there...thank God. Chris and his girlfriend would have been the only people I knew then if it weren't for Darius.

3. The Flats looks like a war zone.

4. I interviewed the bartender and the owner for my article on the smoking ban. The input they offered wasn't very good.

5. I started drinking.

6. I kept drinking.

7. Darius told me I am in charge of the food for Organ Grinder's next year and that he will get me a bigger budget to work with. He also said he will be passing the torch to Shana and within the next two years and he will need me to help her.

8. Chris wanted to go out to my car and smoke pot. He asked me several times if I was sure it was okay that Rachel came along.

9. I found out they have been together two years and Chris has a 14 year old son who he doesn't see, I don't know why yet.

10. The club-kids showed up. They know Chris and Rachel somehow; they're cute little raver-kids, about 20-24 years old, ten of them, still trying to figure out who they really are, but not way far off-base.

11. Chris kissed me.

12. Darius called me brilliant.

13. Gina showed up and her idiot boyfriend seemed to be acting allright for a change.

14. I've taken a strong liking to one of the club-kids. Her name is Missy and she's a cute little blonde thing, maybe 20-years-old. I said a few things that made her laugh, she was dancing like a goofball and made me laugh, and now we're friends and we keep pulling each other onto the dance floor.

15. I catch Chris staring at me and ask him what. He says, "Oh, nothing, I was just flirting with you." He told me to pay attention to what's going on around me.

16. I overheard Gina telling Chris how wonderful I am and how my one-liners just kill her.

17. Chris brought his raver-flags. They are white with a large neon pink cross. They look just like the flag of the England National Soccer Team, except the cross on England's flag is red. When I see Chris's flags, I think of David Beckham and Wayne Rooney and Steven Gerrard and Owen Hargreaves and down the list until I realize I've completely forgotten about Chris.

18. The bartender let us smoke pot on the docks.

19. The music kind of sucked; too light for me.

20. I was wearing a Green Bay Packers T-shirt.

The Tangled Webs We Weave-Part IV

Since apparently everyone's okay with me talking about myself too much...

I got to Jim's a bit late, which set me back timewise and I ended up not getting to the club until past midnight. That's okay, I figured, maybe Chris will have his beer goggles on and see an angel walking in the door as I enter.

I looked as good as I can look these days, of course my perfect hair and my perfect legs being my saving grace for all the other stuff that sucks, so I made sure I was outfitted to show them both off. Fabulous job, I looked way cute.

I walked down a very busy W. 9th St. toward the club and see the whole lot of the friends sitting outside smoking. I got the "Norm!" welcome as I got closer to the bar. I love it; it makes me feel like I have groupies...

Chris ended the conversation he was having to come over and say hello to me and gave me a fabulous hug. Not long after, I heard someone refer to Rachel as his girlfriend, so what I thought was correct. I don't know how long, I have no details of any kind.

Rachel happens to be very cool, I got to talk to her a bit last night and she's a fun girl. That being said, I stayed away from any kind of real advance on Chris. I just don't have it in me to be that disrespectful, regardless of how badly I want him.

There was about six of us left outside the club about half-an-hour after closing. People were arranging rides, etc. and Chris and Rachel were both there, too. I had had plenty to drink....plenty. I was standing around bullshitting with Rachel and Terry, the only black man in Cleveland with a mohawk. Rachel finally got tired of standing around and took the keys from Chris and said she was going out to the car to wait for him. This would be my only shot at getting anything on the table tonight, so I stuck around with Chris and the others still left.

And of course I hold little back because
a) I've been drinking
b) I have no problem approaching this guy...and I'm accustommed to being afraid. I freak myself out when I become flirtatious because I never believe I have it in me.

And away I went with all kinds of rotten thoughts.

Chris: "I'm definitely not Republican, but I''m not Democrat, either. I go with independent, I don't want to be classified as one or the other, I want to make my decisions of my own opinions."
Gennifer: "Wow...I'm so sorry you have a girlfriend."

Chris: "I'm going around the corner of teh building, I'll be right back. If I don't pee like, right now..."
Gennifer: "Can I watch?"
(that must have been the alcohol talking, I don't know what the fuck I was thinking there!!)


Chris: "I'm 34 years old-"
Gennifer: "Are you sure? Your MySpace page says 33."
Chris: "It does? You've seen it?"
Gennifer: "Yes, it says 33. You're lying on your profile, dude..."

The first hug goodbye, he damn near tackled me, so I wrapped one of my legs around him and hung on and he LET ME.

The second hug goodbye he grabbed me and picked me up in the air and then set me back down. I couldn't believe he actually got my ass off the ground. If you saw how skinny he is and how beefcake I am...laws of gravity say that shouldn't have happened. I hope I didn't break his back or anything....shit.

And then I left, mostly satisfied with what little I got from him, hoping that he's at least starting to "get the message" from me. Now that I have officially determined Rachel is his girlfriend, the game plan has officially changed, I can't just "go after" him. I have to "steal" him fair and square, meaning I can't "pursue" him, I just have to be Gennifer and hope that a friendship will someday become more, and be prepared that it doesn't....

I will eventually gain the courage to flat-out tell him that I like him. I have to tell him. I like him too much not to. I need to speak my mind too much not to...if I don't eventually tell him. I might explode and that will DEFINITELY come out badly. I just cannot keep my mouth shut on something I am this affected by....

So it ends up I go back to Jim's party after the club...and Richard is there. Fantastic. Richard is the guy everybody says is crazy about me but I couldn't give him the time of day. And because everybody's rolling and unusually affectionate, I spend some of the rest of the night with Richard crawling all over me and trying to get cute with me in the way a child would.

I start the night with my leg wrapped around Chris and I end the night with Richard in my face. It's like God thinks he's being funny....

So I went to sleep around 8:00 a.m. and woke up this afternoon around 4 and went to Mandy's for her cookout at her new house. Mandy is the one who, along with our friend Anna, has had some kind of "thing" going with Kellen, the guy who was supposed to cause me problems at the Organ Grinder's show by hitting on me in front of Mandy, who secretly wants him, but because I was too busy working he never had the chance. Well, he's there at the party, and he pulls me aside and says "Come get me when you go to the car, I'll go smoke with you. Don't say anything to Mandy, though, she don't want me doing it."

I said "okay" and just laugh. She's not his girlfriend or his Momma, but it's her call whether or not he smokes pot? Please....

So I bring Kellen out to the car with me and five minutes pass before Mandy figures it out and starts walking out to my car. Kellen had hit the bowl three times. I saw her coming in my rearview, so I told Kellen to keep cool and I'd tell her he was just getting a contact buzz. She asked him and me both if he smoked any and we both said no, and Kellen got out of the car. I sat there by myself just laughing. People are idiots.

The thing Mandy doesn't know is what Kellen and I talked about it the car. He told me he tried to call me twice and got what he thought was the wrong number, but was actually my work number. I swear he had my home number, but I guess not. He told me he had wanted to call and invite me out for a few beers while Mandy was on vacation but didn't know how to reach me and I never called him. All this time, I've had his number but figured he just wasn't calling me because he didn't want to. When he said he was waiting for me to call him, I told him I thought he would call me. Apparently he did, so he grabbed his cell phone and I gave him my number at home and all communication problems have now been resolved. As soon as he entered my number into his phone, I looked up and saw Mandy heading toward us in the rearview....

So what the fuck am I supposed to make of all that?

The only thing I can say about this whole mess is that I was surrounded by wonderful friends the whole night and through today and despite the good feelings I got from Chris, the best parts of it all came from my friends....

On Behalf Of The People Whose Stomachs Turned Over After Viewing the The Poo Posts...

...I offer up these images to focus on until you feel better:

Cake Anyone?

My Imaginary Boyfriend: Hugh Jackman

He's a hunk. He's a dork. He might even be gay. But rowr. Pass me a Budweiser. Oops, I think I spilled some. Does anyone have a towel?

My Imaginary Girlfriend, part 2

Liza Minnelli.

I'm ashamed to admit that my ultimate fantasy is to be caught in a four-way with Liza Minnelli, Sophia Loren,
and Tina Turner sandwich! Yum, yum, yummy, yum, yum!
Doc.

My Imaginary Girlfriend

Theda Bara, The Original "VAMP".

Now, Dear and Gentle Reader, tell me that this "chick" ain't hot! Damn! Those piercing eyes, the vacant stare of raw sexuality, the great rack, Hell, she even poses with bones! MEOW! This bitch has got everything! And if I was alive 80 sum odd years ago, I would have found her and made sweet, sweet love to her, and never called her agian. (I would have sent pornographic telegrams for years though.)

Doc