Chalk it up to GFE

So one day while I was looking at condos online, I ended up stumbling onto a mini-subculture of internet perviness I had previously been completely unaware of. I had been contemplating buying a place at the Mirada Garden condominiums, built in 1962 and converted from apartments in 2008. I put the address of the complex into google,(I do this frequently to see which units are for sale or to obtain any other pertinent information) and the address of the place popped up in a thread of some site where people review prostitutes that post on craigslist and backpage.com. Here is the review I came across which was from a couple years ago before they converted these apartments into condos:

Hey guys just letting everyone know that if you book a session with Pixie or any girl at 1241 e. medlock Villa Marvisa apartments that you will be getting more than you bargained for.
There is a guy (calling himself T-Bone)in one of the locked bedrooms that video and audio tapes every session. He then keeps all the tape cause in case he needs to use them later

Isn’t that great? To think that as recently as 2 years ago there were hobags providing “F/S” and providing “GFE” while a dude name “T-Bone”(who for visualization purposes I’m going to go out on a limb and assume is a black man) hiding in the closet filming all the action. Try to picture that scenario going on in one of these places when you are looking at the condo models on the condo development’s beautifully crafted marketing website http://www.buymirada.com and I can assure you, you will never look at this place the same way again.

Apparently there is an entire forum dedicated to people reviewing their experiences with the local hookers for nearly every metropolitan city in the US. I mean I always knew these sorts of activities went on, but I had no idea that there was such a public network of information about it, all posted openly in graphic detail. Here’s an example of a negative review that should be enough to discourage anyone from partaking in any of this sort of thing:
(spelling errors corrected)

Looks like things are bad.

Found this review on Amy, good thing because I was seriously thinking of setting an appt. With her. She is just my style. Then saw this today:

She will set up an appointment with you. When you get to the room,
She collects the fee & tells you she has to get a condom. Then she leaves the room. I didn’t feel comfortable & got dressed again. 2 thugs came in with a pit bull, they wanted to take my wallet. I was lucky. You may not B. She has since lost her preferred 411 status.

Once I discovered the site I read through a great deal of this stuff, and the most challenging thing by far is figuring out what all the abbreviations stand for. I had to consult UrbanDictionary every other word just to get an idea what it is we’re talking about here. Like what exactly is the “RSG” position, and what is the difference between BBBJ and a plain old BJ? Beats me. GFE is “girlfriend experience.” I do know that one, but what sort of girlfriend experience are they referring to? Is it the kind where you hold hands at the zoo eating ice cream together, or when you’re trying to watch a movie and she won’t stop talking? This should be a crucial price negotiation point when determining whether one would have to pay extra for “GFE” or whether they could instead receive a discount coupon for it. There are many types of GFE, and the devil is in the details of the contract.

I could never actually get involved in all this business though. I’m too much of a germaphobe for one thing. And despite all my horrible relationship experiences and the many comical sexual situations I’ve been in over the years(most recently taking a shower with a girl and forgetting to take my socks off!) I have at least always had a steady pool of at least temporarily willing girlfriends. I would never have had to shell out cold hard cash for my GFE. For of course as most guys know, IRL, GFE can be paid for in far more humiliating ways.

Once, Twice, Three Times, I’d put a baby in Lady Gaga

Something amazing happened a couple of weeks ago while I was in Las Vegas for the CES show. As I was lying in my hotel room one night watching tv at the mid-tier “Flamingo” establishment located on the strip, somewhere deep in my mind I began to of all things… develop a bizarre crush. It happened when the hokey local newscasters put a picture up on the screen of Lady Gaga at the CES show. They did it presumably to make light of her (in their view) preposterous hairdo and bold fashion statement…comparing her on the air to a peacock or some suck creature( by far not the worst animal for a girl to be compared to.)

lady gaga ces polaroid

To me though she seemed beautiful, a larger than life figure wrapped up into a little Tootsie Roll Pop package. If we lived in a monarchy she would be fit to be queen. She kind of reminds me of a comic book super hero(or villainess) sort of like a younger version of Monica Vitti(“there is a sting in my tail!”) as she starred in the 1966 classic “Modesty Blaise,” an all time favorite of mine.

Anyhow, since that moment when she showed up on my screen, I have been all sorts of romantic non-pervy daydreams about her. This sort of thing is reminiscent of the time I developed an innocent yet major crush on the video game character “Rydia” from Final Fantasy II for Super Nintendo some years ago…or harkens back to the days of E/N when I developed a superficially romantic interest in the legendary camgirl “Charisma” of the long defunct Charismama.com.

But here I find myself all over again in 2010 with Lady Gaga. And yes I realize that in many a sense she’s the antithesis of a dude like me. A great singer for one, she’s a product of the world of catchy overproduced pop run through computers and set to a backdrop of oozing sexuality and “what will she do next?” sellout show hobaggery. A bisexual icon of the gay community(some even claim she’s a hermaphrodite,) Lady Gaga actually admires Ellen Degeneres and is by all accounts your average hardcore east coast liberal celeb example of the parallel track modern day America is on with the Fall of the Roman Empire. I probably have more in common with Charles Manson than Lady Gaga, for as Charles and I would both say “Man, I don’t live in that world.”

But here’s the thing, I don’t care.

I like Lady Gaga anyway. She’s awesome. And there is always a subtle underlying romance that occurs in a story between the archetype romantic male hero and his arch enemy, the sadistic femme fatale….or between the feminist female heroine and the creepy criminal mastermind(depending on your point of reference.)

I can say right now though, at this moment, with barely a hint of understated sarcasm in my voice …that I am in love with Lady Gaga! Let there be no doubt she is the undisputed epitome of female perfection!

no luggage, merely a carry on

“Excuse me sir, will you be checking any luggage?”

“No, just a carry on…I don’t have any real baggage,
only a chip on my shoulder that I take everywhere I go”
“Oh I’m sorry sir, we can’t let you through security with that…it makes you seem too creepy to the other passengers and it will make them uncomfortable, the females especially.”

“Well why should I be punished for someone else being unable to distinguish between my nonexistent yet perceived creepiness via the chip on my shoulder along with my well documented peter pan syndrome(and possibly undiagnosed asbergers some would say) vs. the all too real trauma and tomfoolery soon to be unleashed upon their unsuspecting hearts by actual real life versions of creepy dudes. ”

“Sir, that’s not our policy. Nobody cares, and you’re holding up the line. Please move along before I have to call security.”

So one of the great things about going out now is that I hardly recognize anyone. Years ago I had accumulated so many enemies and animosities in social circles that it would make attending a party or going to the bar the equivalent of an unpleasant psychological stress test. I would always have to worry about running into people that I didn’t want to see, avoiding certain areas places and rooms because I had simply accumulated too much baggage. The good news is 99% of those people are long goners, and so I’m in a sense “a free man.” The sense of freedom does not last so long as I’m already beginning to accumulate new baggage. However, I’m not the same person I was back then as I’ve learned to appreciate the humor in such circumstances which balances out some of the anxiety which in turn mitigates what would have once been panic and sheer horror. Seriously. I used to avoid entire regions of the city to not have to run into ex girlfriends. I once referred to downtown Phoenix as “North Vietnam” because a girl I had dated lived there and every once in a while I would get roped into going to the area by a friend for a show at Modified or maybe a trip to Bikini Lounge, and I literally felt like I was deep in enemy territory and could be tortured, sniped, maimed or have to see her at any given moment!

Fast forward to the now.

The trade off is of course that you’re on your own. That person who you used to dread having to small talk with was at least someone you knew, a familiar face and one of your own. At least when you ran into your ex-girlfriend out with a random dude and experienced the humiliation of knowing you couldn’t even get a girl who couldn’t even get that guy…
I mean at least you all watched the same cartoons when you were kids(“High up in the trees we’re the Monchichis, Monchichis!”) and you didn’t feel like some rogue time traveling secret agent here to spy from another generation.

Now you just stand there all creepylike and like a vampire hoping to use your acquired powers of charm to suck the youth out of someone to keep you feeling young a while longer. That reminds me, I’ve often wondered if vampires would have trouble getting served alcohol since they live so long that bartenders would not believe their IDs were valid.
“Sorry pal, but you don’t look 720 years old to me!”

The trade off is one I accept of course. Getting in the mix and making friends with the new crocodiles is all part of the deal. No excess baggage, just what I can carry on.

a poem for the ages

Out of Me
oh, what will it takes
not to make the leap
from patience to a patient.
when one can’t catch a break
can’t buy a bucket,
my luck at the slots of
a lot in life
is worse than the licentious howlers
that suck it

-Brandon Adamson

poem of the week

From my book,
SideQuests

Carefully Chosen Words

Feel free
about your feelings
to ramble to your heart’s content
if it is even possible
or even seems a cause worthy
who knows if that vessel is still sea worthy
to reach such a destination.
(I should hope not!)
but for me
when it comes to you
maybe!
It’s one I have already reached.
My response,
though I may seem unresponsive
and may not do so
very promptly
or with what you perceive
an equal sense of urgency,
rest assured
I’m still listening.
In some ways we’re all just too different
an abstraction, a distraction that’s merely
a refracted fraction of my romantic interest,
for purely as romantics
we’re clearly equivalent.
whereas you’re feeling everything
and thinking, thinking,
just substitute foolish daydreaming
and inductive reasoning
again and again
there you have me,
a lifetime member,
of the remembering
if you will,
remember me.
You’re just being,
a human being,
and I can be cold and calculating
like a machine,
sometimes I wonder if I even need oxygen to breathe.
Mechanically speaking,
the familiarity of unreliability
is all too familiar for me.

If there’s a moment of silence
consider this
an indication of your identity
as someone who’s worth
waiting for those
carefully chosen words
the ones I save for
the carelessly woven verse
meant for those who make me think first.
After all this I’m often wrong
sometimes
though my golden arrow aimed
heart and vision same
near perfect
when I don’t see you
I just miss.
So we’ll see.

-Brandon Adamson

“ivana hump ivana trump”

Saturday Rick Bahto picked me up from the airport, and we went to eat at LGO where I had the “a mushroom party” pizza which was damn good. Let me just say that there are serious beauties that work there including a girl who looks like an Egyptian princess. While we were there a song came on from the game, “Little Big Planet,” a game which Rick loves but which gives me motion sickness like most modern games.

Rick had his big film screening that night which ended up being a smashing success. I believe he showed a total of six of his films. Tons of people showed up for the event, very few of which we knew. Every time Rick comes back to Phoenix he is a little bit more well known and has become something of a legend around town. Phoenix has many legends. Some here are legendary just for sleeping around with a lot of babes( various tainted Tempe dudes), others are celebrity bums(the black guy who sells his poems on the street) still others notorious for establishing successful hip dj nights, creepy artists who hang around the mall pacing and daydreaming, but Rick Bahto has achieved his success the old fashioned way…accumulating credentials through quantifiable artistic accomplishments.

http://rickbahto.wordpress.com/bio/