Friday, August 31, 2007

Slag Parade

Venue: Satsuma (ever so reliable)
Event: Slag parade (as The Dame insists on calling them)
Persons present : Common Julie, The Dame and I. The Art Teacher didn't come, as expected, after all.

Me - So, we'll have one Edamame, three chicken katsu Bento, one Salmon Tatami and one Tempura Roll please.

Common Julie - And a fork.

The meal was great and we spent, what seems, an awful lot time bluetoothing photos The Dame had taken in the doorway of a brothel. ' 1st Floor, a Fantastic Service - with a wonderful lady'. In response to this Common Julie protested 'The bitch stole my pitch'.

Common Julie didn't enjoy the thin slices of raw salmon coated in a sweet miso sauce. No, it was the 'texture' apparently. And the edamame, which are always enough to send The Dame and I to Japanese heaven were described as 'Green beans with salt on'.

After a while, one has to come to terms with the fact that some people never change.

My personal shocker for the evening came when The Dame stood up half way through our meal to visit 'the bog'. If I wasn't such a walkover I'd have demoted her there and then to the post of Duchess of Common County.

And in amongst this there was a class debate, Common Julie and I describing The Dame as (almost) middle class, much to her surprise and horror, and me remaining unsure what is was about me that made Common Julie think I was middle class also. Living in the back streets of Leicester is a far cry from the London dreams I've been imaging of late, let me tell you.

Oh yes, and Common Julie has found her a Common chavtastic boyF. Chavin.

All in all a successful 'parade' through the mean streets of Soho. And The Dame still isn't reaping the benefits that her profession brings. Sigh.

Tuesday, August 28, 2007

The Dame - At last!

The Dame and Beatrice are finally making progress it would appear.

It's a fact of life....too many people spend too long a time fretting over the details of the future of their currently 'non existent' romantic relationship. Why?

a) in order to assess the situation fully before committing time and energy

b)so that they don't look like a fool and are totally sure of the other person's feelings before jumping them in the corridor

c)because we all suffer from insecurities and it's easier to do nothing and risk losing what may have been rather than suffer heartbreak once again

All of these reasons are valid of course. But then, I wonder, whatever happened to guts and that instinct that things are going well. What if you bit the bullet. What if you took that plunge. What's the worst that could possibly happen? They say no and you remain friends? Isn't this reality worth an ounce of gumshan? For when we ask 'what if?' we're often left wondering 'what if'...and that's one of the worst feelings in the world. The feeling of watching the wave slip away from beneath your feet.

So, after debating this long and hard with herself and her friends The Dame took the plunge and thins appear to have paid off. You see, we have a kiss on the tables. A prospective kiss the next time her and Beatrice meet.

Sometimes the confidence that we display is enough even to surprise us.

And, as a peripheral point, The Dame, in her lack of confidence beforehand has clearly gone against the rules of our revolution. Shame on her.

K

It was one of those instances, you know, where you you progress from being 'msn buddies' to 'real life buddies'.

Las Iguanas, Latino food...quite a chatty and liberated conversation focusing primarily on...sex. All in all a huge success.

I've known this particular guy (K) for 8 months and we've always got on. He has that thing. That laid back attitude and he's also fairly clever. The prospect of meeting him didn't scare me or make me nervous. Instead I quite looked forward to it.

Although, I should mention here, he was half an hour late. Being the punctual person that I am...I don't much like standing around like a whore in some underground station. But sometimes it has to be done. There was a pre-warning text mind.

The food was delicious and we were both pretty full, although, thinking about it now, we were eating continuously for most of the evening. And there was none of that awkward sex-pausing. You know the sort, when you're being analysed for your levels of sexual prowess/ compatibility. No, we just got on with forming our friendship and he is perhaps the first e-buddy I have met who I actually think might be good for me.

And no, there was no sex. Just lots of talking.

Performance

Now that I'm over the shock of the orgy rejection, things appear to be back on track.

Still haven't had any action for a week. And this has me thinking. Perhaps I should set myself up with a 'bed four men in two weeks'- challenge. As with all areas of my life, I'm a firm believer in the philosophy that targets ensure performance.

With this in mind, I propose sleeping with entirely different men and comparing the experiences to identify
a) the better lover and
b) whether I can deal as effectively with lots of random sex as I'd hoped I would.

So, these are my hardcore objectives.

Thursday, August 23, 2007

Science/Vanity

Jeans down to the ankles I looked into the mirror. It's so female...this standing naked in front of the mirror so that you can assess and feel sorry for your body.

Thankfully, my gazing was purely for scientific purposes. What I was there to assess was whether my body was proportionate. A slight bulge is developing where a flat stomach used to be. Thankfully the cock looks in proportion with the rest of my body.

As much as it paints me to say this, I think it's time I developed a six pack and pecks. A fit and healthy body surely is the answer to a lagging sex life. That, and putting some weight onto this slender frame of mine.

And my pubic hair is too messy, it has to be said. Trimming ought to do it.

And, as Juno recommended, Veet hair removal cream for the butt crack. Smooth bum is so much easier and more pleasurable to lick out.

Marriage

This had me in stitches. STITCHES!

A conversation between The Dame's homophobic mother( let's call her The Priestess) who has blocked the lesbian confession from her living memory forever, and The Dame. Bear in mind, The Priestess doesn't quite know about my cock fumblings:

The Priestess: How's Tainted (me), have you spoken to him lately?
The Dame: Yeh, we speak nearly everyday
The Priestess: I like him, he's funny and clever
The Dame: Yeh
The Priestess: Well why don't you marry him then
The Dame: What? WhhhhHHHyy?
The Priestess: Well you've got so much in common it's unbelievable
The Dame: Nooooooooooo.

Picking myself up from the floor I quickly came to the conclusion that this was wrong. On so many different levels. And hilarious.

The days of mine and The Dame's wedded bliss are long long away.

'If I'm single in 10 years time' she said, 'I'll marry you'.

She'd be lucky.

Wednesday, August 22, 2007

Rejection

There aren't many instances in life where I get upset.

Received a rejection from my Orgy application earlier today. THAT upset me.

I failed to make it to the shortlist of 30 even though I'd made it to the long list of 90. Grr. They're sooo going regret this.

I refuse to get into a state of panic and insecurity about my looks over this. Instead, what I'll do is blame the world and the organiser for not realising my full potential. For it is they who are blind. And it is they who have missed out on my thundering sexual presence.

'Don't be upset', read the rejection email, 'I can only invite a certain amount of people. The fact that I took your details means that you are suitable to attend and there's nothing stopping you applying next time'.

Just like with all the other aspects of my life, I'm quickly beginning to realise that this endeavour too will require persistence and bucket loads of shyte thrown at the door before some of it will eventually stick.

And in the meantime....hope somebody drops out and my invite is sent straight away. Or better still....find a bigger place to live quickly and organise my own.

If the orgy won't come to me...it is I who should go to the orgy.

Monday, August 20, 2007

Juno

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Wednesday, August 15, 2007

Lines

Must not spend the entire day refreshing your Facebook page.
Must not spend the entire day refreshing your Facebook page.
Must not spend the entire day refreshing your Facebook page.
Must not spend the entire day refreshing your Facebook page.
Must not spend the entire day refreshing your Facebook page.

Must stop masturbating over that same old porno that is now a crummy old MP3 on your not so crummy laptop.
Must stop masturbating over that same old porno that is now a crummy old MP3 on your not so crummy laptop.
Must stop masturbating over that same old porno that is now a crummy old MP3 on your not so crummy laptop.
Must stop masturbating over that same old porno that is now a crummy old MP3 on your not so crummy laptop.
Must stop masturbating over that same old porno that is now a crummy old MP3 on your not so crummy laptop.

Must find a trendy place to live South of the river which has everything AND is reasonably priced.
Must find a trendy place to live South of the river which has everything AND is reasonably priced.
Must find a trendy place to live South of the river which has everything AND is reasonably priced.
Must find a trendy place to live South of the river which has everything AND is reasonably priced.
Must find a trendy place to live South of the river which has everything AND is reasonably priced.

Must get some good porn soon.
Must get some good porn soon.
Must get some good porn soon.
Must get some good porn soon.
Must get some good porn soon.

Must be successful in life.
Must be successful in life.
Must be successful in life.
Must be successful in life.
Must be successful in life.

Must finish this and refresh the Facebook home

Monday, August 13, 2007

Indian Barbecue

If people ever tire of barbecue food which is undercooked or charcoal black.

If people ever tire of bland burgers, slabs of steak and sausages.

If people ever want to escape the eternal disappointment that is the English Barbecue, let me introduce you to the Indian variety.

Spent the weekend in Leicester with Le Famille. It's nothing new that when I am with Le Famille, all i do is eat and gossip. A Barbecue is in many ways a posher and all the more organised way of doing the same. And the weather was glorious.

A selection of recipes for my fellow foodies:

Sheesh kebabs
Lamb mince (which ought ideally to have been minced three times)
fresh ground chillies
fresh ground garlic
fresh ground ginger
Tandoori Masala
Salt
Lemon Juice
Garam Masala
Incredibly finely diced onion
Chopped Coriander
a spoonful of rice flour

Add spices/onions/coriander to the meat until it tastes the way you want it to, then mix rigorously and leave in the fridge for half an hour. Press the mixture over the skewers and place over BBQ turning occasionally to ensure equal browning. Done

Tandoori Chicken wings
Fleshy chicken wings without the skin

for the marinade:
yogurt
lemon juice
sugar
salt
turmeric
tandoori masala
chillies/garlic/ginger
oil
sesame seeds
ground cumin seeds

form the marinade and rub into the meat until fully coated

slap on the BBQ and turn occasionally to ensure an even cooking. Done

Corn on the cob (the perfect way)
Leave the husks on.
Soak the corn in a bucket of water and place on the BBQ straight from there removing excess water which threatens to put out the BBQ
Each kernel should be steamed and soft without any of that black rubbish that might stain your teeth.

Melt some margarine and combine with some sunflower oil. Brush over the corn and sprinkle with salt and or chili powder. Done





Beatrice

The golden rule of business is never to mix business with pleasure. In simplified terms this means that we should avoid having sex (of any description) with the people we work with. My own exceptions to this rule apply as follows:

a) If a quick shag will get you that promotion you SOO want, then why not use the physical assets you have alongside your mental ones. This way, everything will have been achieved as a result of your own merit;

b)If gin is the thing to blame, allow yourself a blowjob/spell of cunnilingus. Anything further and you won't be able to look into their eyes the day after;

c)Sleeping with somebody who is in a lower position than you is far more appropriate than going for the boss. With this comes control. The boss may develop a quick dislike to you and may ACTUALLY be able to do something about it.

d) If you are desperate need of moisture, just do it. Bite the bullet and deal with the wound.

I remain unsure which of these exceptions apply to The Dame, but mix business with pleasure she has. She and Beatrice work together, flirt together and very shortly will be giving each other dirty fountains. It's something she said she would never do. And here she is, adding fuel to the fire, or rain to the river (whichever seems more appropriate). In light of this, I feel rather pleased that she has managed to come over the hurdle that is her past and make a direct contribution to her future.

Perhaps if i were doing what The Dame does for a living, I'd be just as open to the possibility.

There's nothing like a new one to get you past that old one. Indeed this is true.

Friday, August 10, 2007

Moving

J would like us to rent a flat south of the river. It's nice enough, and Lady Montague lives in that area, so I don't have issue. However, it's just not the city. The buzzing electric pulse is ever-so-necessary. I do however feel that working (as I do) North of the river and living (as I will) South of the river, will provide for an all together more 'rounded' experience of living in London.

And there is a gay pub in Clapham, or so i'm led to believe. Something tells me FHM's head offices are elsewhere however.

And then J wants to get a dog. I've agreed as long as it is solely his responsibility. The shitting and pissing can be done places other than my bedroom and the lounge/kitchen....in fact...anywhere in the entire house.

Woof.

Thursday, August 09, 2007

Men

It's not so much men in general that piss me off. No. It's more men who think they could do better than me and let their judgemental arsehole self guide their penis. The truth is simple - they can't. AND, they won't.

We all have our types, it has to be said. But whatever happened to meeting before dismissing? and some of these men!? Some of these men would have grave difficulty humping George Michael in the night bushes at Hampstead Heath.

And so to my new plan of action:

a) change my profile pic on Gaydar to something topless, fun and sexy. In fact, let's put a whole portfolio up there for these gifts of the Lord to see.

b) be a little more proactive in social settings, especially where these concern herds of gay men. Talk openly and tell them you find them hot. Because, although some may turn their heads or attempt to disguise a frown with a smile, somebody out there will have their day made and you, yes, independent, strong, confident, sexy, intellectual you, may even get laid.

c) only date people who you find attractive. There is little point in meeting a man, enjoying the conversation but feeling an urge to leave without an imprint of his cock on the palm of your hand.

d) When dating somebody over the age of thirty exercise due caution. Convince yourself and be utterly convinced that the photos you have seen aren't pre-fat, pre-age, pre-stretch marks, pre-marriage. Because, whilst many of these things are bearable, you can do better than a pretentious (desperate) liar.

e) keep up the levels of confidence. Because if you don't get it, nobody is going to give it to you.

Rocking

Those that know me will be surprised to hear that I unleashed the RockGod inside me last night, courtesy of and much to the horror of Belle de Bengal.

It started out (as it always does) easily enough. We were due to have our regular Wednesday catch up/civilised supper (this normally involves two hours of gossip and two hours of a film).

Turning up half an hour late she dragged me off to the Kerrang pre-awards party, an event so exclusive that she had to plead and sob in order to gain me entrance.

Initially it would have been the 'exclusive' nature of this invitation that would have swung my vote. Let's face facts...Hard rock really isn't my sort of music. That said, an open mind is something I fiercely possess. Onwards and Upwards I thought. I'll try harder this time to make out the lyrics and seem interested in the music. I may even catch a celeb or two i thought. Of course, things never work out the way we plan.

The lyrics I didn't understand in the slightest. As far as I'm concerned, hard rock is all about whinny angry skinny little men who rant and rave about some childhood misery. I also know that all the 'crazy people' collect in a mosh pit and hit each other. Thankfully there was no mosh pit.

What we had instead is a lot of loud music, small hamburgers and cones filled with fries. Grungy.

I didn't recognise a soul, although I did take a photograph of Charlie (who? ) from Busted (who?). I feel safe in the knowledge that this will mean something to someone out there. Honest.

And for the real corker. I actually began to really enjoy the music. Prodigy. Iron Maiden. Fightstar. And a few others. The drinks were free. 10 measures of Vodka later I was raving the way only the truly dedicated do. And I loved it. Three hours of earnest and obsessive thumping on the roof terrace, vodka and redbull in hand, fists resembling the 'sign of rock' and a true and proper belief that I was actually playing the drums and the guitar.

Bloody amazing.

Wednesday, August 08, 2007

On infidelity

Okay, well let's see. If somebody is unfaithful and the marriage ends as a consequence, there will undoubtedly be somebody to blame. It might be one party or both. What I'm wondering is why so many women become complacement once they're married. So many women think that after marriage their obligations of keeping the marriage lustful have somehow disappeared. Which leads me to the ultimate question..if so many women in long term relationships feel that their body ends where their skirt begins, how can anybody blame a husband for getting elsewhere what he obviously can't have at home?

When a man has an affair...is it fair to blame the wife? Or should we blame the man for acting on his natural instincts.

And let's leave The Mistress out of this.

Opening wide

Some men are tops, other men are bottoms.

Some men like to poke and occasionally like to be poked themselves whilst others simply declare themselves versatile. The versatile man is one who has little preference and is, he would have us believe, able to use both his cock and his anus equally well. My own experience of these definitions has however painted a different picture.

The versatile man in the gay kingdom is actually just a bottom. A bottom who doesn't much like the idea of being a submissive. By submissive, i refer of course to the 'wife' in the relationship.

Versatile to gay is bisexual to straight. Denial.

I have only poked once and have yet to be poked myself. If sources are to be believed, the feeling of having a pulsating cock firmly inside you is incredible.

I say this because I have now decided that it is time. Time for me to open wide.

Sin

Forgive me Father for I have sinned.

I spent my entire lunch break sourcing the nearest McDonalds and eating a McChicken Sandwich Meal despite your guidance and against my better judgement.

I find it difficult to describe the urge that grabbed a hold of me yesterday afternoon and eventually led me to commit this sin. That the restaurant was a posher version of the chain and full of men dressed in suits shall not, will not and cannot, be of any excuse.

I ask for your forgiveness and pray that you may cleanse me of all my sins.

Amen

Friday, August 03, 2007

Prince

It's nice to have friends in high places.

In this case I refer to Belle de Bengal and her ability to provide me with free concert tickets to see Prince (tonight) and Tori Amos (a few weeks ago).

I have read some of the most promising reviews of Prince's concert over the last few days and needless to say, go to it with great expectation. Arthur is also due to attend, although I believe he bulk bought his tickets.

When thinking about Prince one can't help but forget his lack of ribs and the flowing ability to self fellate. At least I can't. And tonight, If i were able, I'd take my binoculars and have a good old perv. Because, even ribless, Prince is funky. Funkier than anybody else I know.

Paid Employment

I write this entry whilst sitting at my desk. Not the one laden with text books and sticky tabs. No, I refer to my desk at work, for I now have a job. A proper job.

The first week is as expected. Lots of names and bucket loads of information to absorb. And the odd actual work. It's the job I wanted (for now) and I'm pleased that I'm here.

The people are 'ever-so-friendly' which is 'ever-so-good'.

Working where I do, or even in a firm similar to mine puts one in the best working office environment. Our (for now I am one of the team) fridge is filled with:

every carbonated drink you could possibly imagine including Lucozade (both original and Lemon)
Juices
Smoked Salmon and Cream cheese

and on the shelf

Fruit
teas of every sort from all over the world
and a tea and coffee machine

we occasionally also have a bagel or a cake day.

Bagel because this firm is American.

I wonder just how long it'll take me to tell anybody here about my blog. If I'm decent about it, never. But I'm not, so I'll give myself 6 months. Although, I wonder...is sexual gratification worth jeopardising my imminent career? Arched eyebrows

Thursday, August 02, 2007

Ugh

The thing about facebook is that I can see photos of Common Julie's birthday bash and realise that there wasn't a single ethnic to be seen. Even the Ku Klux people know that the token asian is a must for any party.

Heaven on a week night

Heaven on week nights is a perfect kind of place. Just enough men to feed the eyes. Just enough flicker of the red lights to make you believe you're the world's best porn star. Just enough space to move your hips, shake your leg and make (often) pointless conversation with absolutely anybody.

I went there with a girl. A sister of a friend who is also now a friend in her own right. She's tall and glam and oozes sex appeal. In fact, all three sisters do. I try harder and harder each time to fight off the envy. Of course, what is one supposed to do when the gay men flock to the straight glam puss and shun the guy? I'd avoid causing any commotion for fear of being attacked with a manbag. Such is the life of those with better looking friends.

Then again, I assume, some people must assume we are a couple. For we are both brown and much of society is narrow minded.

We got there at midnight and were back home at 5.30. And it was fun. Great fun to be able to watch the men as they flew around my friend who flickered like a candle in the centre. These women, I quickly came to realise, are the first that made me believe they could turn a gay man. If they wanted to.

and let's not forget the Asian 'dude' who insisted on performing the waltz with her in the middle of the dance floor. I wouldn't have minded so much if the music they were waltzing to was anything but Cher. Sigh

Common, so Common!

Yesterday it was Common Julie's birthday.

Let this be a public warning that I wasn't invited. In fact, it was only through The Dame that I heard about her Common Shenanigans.

It was probably just a drink at the local old man's pub followed by vodka induced vomiting in the taxi home. Entirely common.

Who does Common Julie think she is?

Belle de Bengal

Last Thursday I spent the entire day with Belle de Bengal at her pad up North (London).

Suburbia isn't such a bad place is it? What with those picket fences and community watch committees. No

What we did during our time together was pretty simple. Eat starters and watch movies:

Amelie by Jean Pierre Jeunet
Mandi by Shyam Benegal
Elizabeth by Shekar Kapur
Ek Je Aache Kanya (There was a girl) by Sabrata Sen

All in all an excellent way to chill out/gossip and sit on our asses all day without a care in the world.

It was during this time that I applied for a place on the Islington Orgy (a venture a friend of J's had introduced me to earlier that week). Updating my gaydar profile was the first step in the application. A black and white photo of me looking like a CK model, it has to be said.

A week has passed and I have yet to hear back. I've been warned the competition is fierce.

Met up with Belle de Bengal yet again last night for an amazing meal at the fairly new restaurant Sitaarey in Covent Garden. A beautiful buffet of exotic kebabs brought straight out of the fire. With its bollywood themed decor and A R Rahman songs playing on the various television screens, it was sort of like finding myself in heaven. This place is definitely worth checking out.

Belle de Bengal also surprised me a little...as she considered her romantic options. Sleeping with underpaid inferior men really isn't her cup of tea it would appear. That, and sleeping with anybody with brown skin. It surprised me therefore to hear that her mother is mid process trying to marry her off to a partner in a law firm. Think of the money I said...think of the money. This said, if all is to be believed, Belle de Bengal is also on a cracking salary herself.

Ambition is such a wonderful thing.