Friday, June 29, 2007

Survivor Weekend

If you read the July OUT column, and want to join in on the Fire Island Survivor Weekend--it is here! I'll be on the island with CoolDan from Saturday (6/30) through Sunday. In the Pines, we'll be as ubiquitous as steroids at a circuit party. Say hello, party on, and survive the night with us...if you dare!

From the dock, head directly down toward the closest path to the beach. This is where we'll stash our duffel bags, and we won't sleep far from there at the end of the night: after the last excitement at the Pavilion, and before first light. That late, the police won't catch us.

Don't plan on getting a good night of rest, and don't forget a) a sweater, and b) the sunblock.

By the way, Saturday is my birthday. I accept gifts and cash prizes, I just can't sleep in a bed.

With love,
Jesse

Wednesday, June 27, 2007

Pier Dance 2007


Shirtless at the Pier: Cooldan, Jesse, Bam Bam
(behind are Javier and Ewerton)


After the march, we take off our heels and head to the Pier Dance. This is the end of Pride Weekend, and is always beautiful weather with a breeze blowing off the river. This year the music was mellow trance-like, and the featured performer was Broadway star Idina Menzel who sang live a remix "Defying Gravity" from Wicked. After that, the sun was down, the Empire State Building was lit up lavender, and fireworks exploded over the Hudson.

All you need is love.

The crowd watches the fireworks.






Happy New York City Pride 2007!


For more pics of each of the participants from "Long Live the Queens" check out the page of Thomas Locke Hobbs, our official photographer. Each year he flies out to document the glamour, the gutter, the glory of our parade. He's also whittled down his 1200 plus photos to some 100 on a flicker page you can get to from his site.

Tuesday, June 26, 2007

Long Live the Queens!

The sign was supposed to read "Long Live the Queens." It was misspelled.

The Queens from left to Right:
Queen Bee (Bam Bam)
Almost Queen (Anita Seatbelt)
Queen aka Freddy Mercury (Rebekka)
Trashy Queen (Shania Bear)
Queens of the Jungle (Rachel and a covered up Dan in wheelchair)
Flaming Queen (me)
Queen of the Damned (Javier)










In front, a boozy Queen Elizabeth I (Wayne, left) is fighting for the Queen of Pop's (Dan) drink. She may be the Virgin Queen, but her liver is a whore! Shortly, you will witness the consequences of this Elizabethan tragedy.

If pictures speak a thousand words, then video speaks ten thousand words. In which case, I should really write less about our gay "pride" parade infiltration and just show the videos posted by our ever-gracious videographer Derek Coffer.

First I present the Flaming Queen. I am on fire here, channeling I don't know--Cyd Charisse? That is, if Cyd Charisse were a prostitute in 7-inch red hot stilettos. Notice the Queen Bee (Bam Bam) in the background threatening the crowds with his stinger.



The Queen of Pop (my roommate Dan)



Queen of the Damned (Javier)


The Best For Last:

Queen Elizabeth (Wayne) was like a pinball hopped up on that caffeinated vodka. We're not sure if she remembers being there that day at all. Luckily, we have the footage to prove it. Here Queen Elizabeth sees that the Trashy Queen (Shania) and the Queen of Pop (Dan) are getting lots of attention as they ride on the side of a church van, so she decides she wants to hop on, too.
She misses.
By a long shot.
I call this "Elizabethan Girl Gone Wild."

Happy Pride

A glamour shot of the flaming queen (me!) found on wireimage.com

Currently I'm hibernating in full recovery mode from the aftermath of a brutal Gay Pride. I think they call it Pride. Our "Long Live The Queens" effort was terrifically sloppy as we began with an open bar. We ended up barging through the police and into the parade ("We have a permit!") amongst floats for various churches and synagogues.

Imagine Queen Elizabeth drunkenly diving into the asphalt, all 2oo pounds of the Queen Bee wobbling incoherent in a pair of golden leatherette heels, and the Queen of the Jungle crippled into a wheelchair---all to the backdrop of Presbyterian hymns.

"Anita Seatbelt" the Almost Queen (Lady Di-ed) had a steering wheel around her neck, and shards of glass in her hair. As the Presbyterians passed, Anita says to me:

"Some church person just told me they loved me. What should I do?"
I don't know Anita...have another drink?

Despite our behavior along the route, we did manage to get lots of online press. I'll post more photos later, but for now I leave you to the link to the first pic in the NYC gay pride slideshow at nytimes.com.












My flaming queen leads the way in red..with the Queen of Pop in the middle, Queen (Freddy Mercury) to the right, and in the way back left spot Cooldan as the gimpy "Queen of the Jungle" in his wheelchair. Directly behind the Queen of Pop is a turned around Queen Bee, and way back is Lady Died (in elegant ballgown with steering wheel around the neck).
Remember, church people love her.

Saturday, June 23, 2007

Dick Dock Sob Story

Nightlife in Provincetown must get awfully repetitive for the locals. Party at the Crown & Anchor, go dance at the A-House. Everything closes at 1am, and then everyone heads to drunkenly gobble down pizza at Spiritus. If they haven't yet passed out and are feel the least bit randy, they head to gobble up the strangers under the Boatslip deck-- known colloquially as "Dick Dock."

Late night, strangers can be found getting their anonymous groove on. It's like the 1970's all over again.





Exhibit A: the gay male species in their natural environment.


My partner in crime Cooldan was with me last weekend. Dick Dock is a little cramped, and Dan is on crutches. "Do you think I can fit under Dick Dock?" he implores, and I figure we should give it a whirl. "Sure!"

The tide was quickly coming in, getting his crutches wet, but the cripple managed to hobble under the dock with the boys. After a little exploration of my own, I find Cooldan sitting down and smoking. "Why aren't you mingling?" I ask him, and he's a bit down. "Everytime I approach the crowd, people move out of the way." People see crutches, and it's some kind of reflex: make way for the cripple.

"For once I just want people to stay and surround me, but they all move aside." Dan laments. "I mean, where do they think I'm trying to go?!"




No love for the handicap.







Please note a fast approaching tide.


Friday, June 22, 2007

Filthmaster and Acolyte

In Provincetown last week, John Waters (director of filthy, fabulous films like "Pink Flamingos," "Hairspray" and "Female Trouble") curated a gallery exhibit opening entitled "elimination." The press release stated how English has many different uses for the word eliminate, but as one may imagine with John Waters, this exhibit focused on the digestive process of elimination. Featured were unique works of art, like this sculpture of a fruit bowl that masterfully metastasizes into a big pile of shit (below).

Who doesn't have space in their kitchen to hang this? On a diet? Art can help curb your appetite.








The elimination exhibition has something for every room in your home! Want to freshen up your den? Consider hanging this drawing of the itsy bitsy spider. Oh wait, I was squinting. That's no spider --it's a healthy puckering anus.



Look, Ma. No hemmorhoids!









This particular piece reminds me of a line I wrote and performed in "A Four Letter Word." The scene takes place at a sex shop where Luke (me) is dusting shelves of pornography. He picks up a DVD with a cover not unlike this drawing, and says to his co-worker Zeke (Corey Grant):
"Hey, I think I know that guy."
"That's just a picture of an asshole."
"Yeah, I think I slept with it."

Finally, we have me with the curator Mr. John Waters. Look at me shamelessly promoting my book You Can Run. "John Waters, I just published this book, which is for sale in the Now, Voyager bookstore across the street...my book is filthy, but not nearly as filthy as you are."


John Waters did not buy my book.

Wife-Carrying in Action!

Visual proof of the last post. Here, Ehrin Armstrong honors his marriage vows to love, cherish, and throw you over my shoulder and run like hell!!





As an added obstacle, race organizers should consider adding pirahna to the water portion.

Thursday, June 21, 2007

Swept Off Her Feet

I recently had the honor of meeting the North American wife-carrying champions Ehrin and April Armstrong. Yes, there really is such a thing. It's Finnish. Of course this is no surprise. It's also the Finnish who take you to a sauna, beat you with Birch branches, and call it therapeutic.

Wife-carrying has man and wife cruising through an obstacle course as fast as possible. The husband carries his wife in one of three ways: piggyback, over the shoulder, or the "estonian" method...where the woman is upside down around the man's back, arms around his waist, face in his fanny, thighs pinching his ears. This graceful position is the one that Ehrin and April demonstrated for me when I met them up in Massachusetts.

The wife-carrying competition is an obstacle course race, and part of it is through waist deep water. Being as April is upside-down (in the "Estonian"), her face is submerged underwater during part of the course. Does she have a blowhole? "How do you make it out alive?" I ask her. "I just hold my breath and hang on!" she says. I can't help but think this is an apt metaphor for a papsmear, or even marriage itself. Just hold your breath and hang on.

Unfortunately, I can't find the pics (and promo video!) I took of these champions to show you. Whose camera did I use, was it mine? Am I making this up? Where's my drink?

Wednesday, June 20, 2007

Hunger Strikes Back

The Gay Pride Parade is this Sunday, and as you may know (by following the "Pride" post links below) my friends and I are parading as queens throughout history "Long Live the Queens!" Cooldan's foot is still broken, so he will portray the Queen of the Jungle...in a wheelchair. He says the Queen of the jugle in a wheelchair will represent the earth's crippled environment. A metaphor?

The only message I foresee is that a drag queen in a wheelchair will steal all our thunder.

Dan declared with one week til Pride, he was on a hunger strike. He had to get as skinny as possible (we don't wear very much while marching, or wheeling, as the case may be). To get skinny quick, Dan declared he would be fasting in solidarity with Paris Hilton (who, in jail, is refusing to eat so that prison wardens won't get the chance to photograph her on the pot and sell it to the press...the shame! Paris shits!)

At meals Dan refuses food with "I'm on a hunger strike." He'll order a Bloody Mary and claim the accompanying olive is lunch. That is, until we went to a film festival party where waiters carried around endless trays of FREE FOOD. Dan, like me, can't resist a freebie: especially when those freebies consist of cajun shrimp, sushi rolls, and addictive hamburgers.

He didn't even attempt to resist. He ate for every day he missed--and then some.




Cooldan's hunger strike. The hunger strike's back!










After this binge, the Queen of the jungle is set to impress this Sunday. She's not only stealing the thunder - she might just be the thunder.

Pink Ladies

Out Magazine excerpted one whole chapter from my book You Can Run, and put it online at out.com. It's the second chapter in the book, entitled "The Pink Lady" about this woman I met with Zane in patagonian Chile. She was ridiculously pathetic in a way (she painted pink all over her tin shack of a home--everything right up to the toilet seat, even her platform shoes!) and yet in her earnest struggle to perservere and win, she could humble a king. Her name was Patricia, and you can read the excerpt here.

After the chapter excerpt at out.com, readers are allowed to post comments. The first comment was from someone who didn't bother to read the excpert from my book. Instead, he took an opportunity to personally bash me. This I take in stride, because I learn things from survivors like Patricia. If you don't have people trying to tear you down, then you don't have people there to encourage you. And if you don't have either, you're probably just not daring enough to paint pink onto a world of grey.

Monday, June 18, 2007

Katie...Katie...Katie...

I was up at the end of Cape Cod in fabulous Provincetown, Massachusetts this weekend for the film festival (A Four Letter Word screened twice!) where they were honoring none other than Kathleen Turner. I went up, asked her for a photo, and introduced myself.

Kathleen Turner - say my name, say my name.








"My name is Jesse," I tell her, "And you know the first time I heard my own name in a movie was.." and Miss Turner answers before I finish. "Romancing the Stone."

"Yes!" I say. Because it's true, her character in the beginning of Romancing the Stone called out "Jesse....! Jesse....!" over and over (the hero of a novel she was writing). "I know it was just a script, but you read my name with such longing." I tell her because I've had too much to drink. "I was only a kid, but the way you called my name, it made me think I had something to look forward to..."

Kathleen Turner smiled graciously, and quickly disappeared.

Nearby, another festival attendee said he never would ask to take a photo with a star. I said I don't normally, but it's Kathleen Turner--I practically grew up with her, I saw her naked on Broadway...what's a photo? So this guy says he's not a "starfucker" (naturally, implying that I am a starfucker) but he says it nicely, and then he goes on about how he is a publicist for the Tribeca Film Festival and he works with Meryl Streep and Bob Deniro and "they're just people." Halt. He calls me a starfucker, and he just referred to Robert Deniro as "BOB"? I'm sorry. Do they regularly brunch together?

For the rest of the night, I referred to Kathleen Turner as "Katie." And I said it with with longing.

Friday, June 15, 2007

Dream Job Update

Those of you who regularly read this blog may remember my phone audition to become a Blow-Job Educator, and all the excitement that went with that...especially when I discovered the girls in class would be simulating fellatio on CARROTS.

So.... guess who got the job?! I went for my in-person interview and the woman, Blaire, made me perform my 3 hand techniques and 3 oral techniques right in front of her. I didn't get a dildo to use, neither did she provide me with a carrot. Blaire made me go at it right on a small size Poland Springs water bottle...in the middle of a crowded restaurant. Of course my only qualm was: why the small-size bottle? Can you please show some respect and get me the jumbo? You're dealing with a professional, here.

So she said I was hired, and now I needed training. Training? Yeah, she said, and they'd have to get me an anatomy chart. I'm wondering about that one. What does a gall bladder have to do with a blow job? Anatomy? Really. This is what we call too much information. It's more feeling, more preternatural passion, less...anatomy chart. Anyway, soon I'll be on my own, educating bachelorettes and other private female students on the art of cocksucking.

Blaire tells me her company has many such classes, but that they are not intended to "keep your man," but rather to educate, to give pleasure. "I'm a love expert," she says. And then she goes on about how you can't "keep" your man. That it either works, or it doesn't.

At this juncture, I'm distracted. A love expert? What the hell is a love expert? "Did you go to school for that?" I ask her, and she says yes, she studied human relations, but she was born to be a love expert. I'm looking, I'm looking at her left hand. There is NO RING on her left hand. She has a little explaining to do.

To put it in terms of the interview -- a love expert without a ring? That's like a blow job with teeth.

Thursday, June 14, 2007

My Spokescouple

My good friend Allan Brocka has created an original series. Rick & Steve: the happiest gay couple in all the world premieres on the Logo channel July 10. It's not stop animation, it's not animation, it's not live action. I've no idea what it is actually.

All I do know is that I've read all the scripts, and it doesn't require a laugh track. This time it's you that will laugh. Finally. Imagine that.

See the preview here!

Wednesday, June 13, 2007

They Call it a Free Country

This year we celebrate the 40th anniversary of the right for interracial couples to marry. One day not only will we be able to marry despite the color of our skin, but I look forward to the day we have the right to marry no matter our gender.

At one time, not long ago, I had an Argentine boyfriend who I was very much in love with. We lived together in Buenos Aires, and later traveled the continent of South America. He didn't speak a word of English, but if this country had civil rights for all, I would've brought him back home and married him.

His name is Walter, and he features prominently in my book "You Can Run." (now only $10 here!) Walter's a label queen, needy, a bit of a priss, and I relentlessly dragged him and his precious Gucci through the depths and the dregs of the third world (mostly against his will). Poor thing. For those of you who have read the book, below is Walter, very recently, with his mother Marithe (who saved him from the army) and also his father.


Walter Laruccia in Buenos Aires: he still lives at home.











I recently sent Walter a couple copies of You Can Run, so he could see the drawings he made for it. He has since been hard at work with a Spanish/English dictionary trying to actually read it. Walter is proud of me, and thrilled about being in a book. However, he writes:

"me haces quedar como un puto promiscuo, snob, drogadicto, vago, tonto y retardado.....pero simpatico!"

translation: "You make me look like a a promiscuous gay, a snob, a drug addict, lazy, stupid, and retarded...but friendly!"

Friendly? Who said he was friendly? Walter is, however, unforgettable. And I love him!




Those lips. He didn't even pay for them!

Tuesday, June 12, 2007

World Travelers Unite!

Jesse & Cooldan, 2006

Fire Island: Survivor Weekend begins something like this.




I ripped on Fire Island Pines in this month's OUT magazine column. I'm sure it'll get some kind of backlash, but who can argue the truth? Fire Island is a homo-heaven, but if you don't qualify with a timeshare, then forget about it. Unless...

Cooldan and I voted ourselves onto the island with Survivor Weekend. We go homeless on the beach one weekend each year, reclaiming it for world travelers everywhere. As you can see (below) it always ends up a little less exciting than it began.


Under the Boardwalk:

Survivor weekend ends something like this:
(barely) surviving.


So far, in response to the column (read it here) several strangers have vowed to join us this July. Are they serious? Do they have what it takes? Only time and the sand flies will tell.

Sunday, June 10, 2007

Bits of Pieces

A Four Letter Word had its New York premiere at Newfest to a sell-out crowd!


A Four Letter Word Cast and Director







From Left to Right
JR Rolley
Charlie David
Director Casper Andreas
Jesse Archer
Margaret Echeverria
Alison Lane
Virginia Bryan

At the after-screening Q & A session, I made a plug for my book (which you all must buy because it is fabulous if I do say so myself!) and Casper mentioned his next project, a drama entitled "Between Love & Goodbye." It was also revealed that I'm working on a new script about a fag hag, and Casper says he's more interested in doing serious films, but "Yeah, I told Jesse if his script is any good I'd direct it." Hiss. Honey, who do you think you are? Spielberg?

Our film was selected as the centerpiece for Newfest which meant that there was an after-party included with the price of the ticket. An after party with an open bar. That means today we are collectively cobbling together the fragments of lastnight. The open bar party was held, appropriately enough, at a club called "Pieces."














Me and my co-star Charlie.

Charlie flew in from LA, starred in the film, and ended his night lost in the East Village and puking over a construction sign. He drunk-texted his friend that he was lost, and the friend texted back: "GET IN A CAB" which Charlie did...an hour and a half later.

Best of all, Charlie has a photo shoot this morning. Good luck with that.




Post-Pieces, the rest of us went to "Marie's Crisis" piano bar- the most dependable of West Village bars, here where heaving sweaty strangers gather to sing showtunes. Here you can't go wrong, but somehow we did.

Cooldan (drinking, holding his crutches) still has a broken foot. He couldn't be bothered with the five stairs down into Marie's, so he lifted his crutches laterally believing they were wings. He fell down all five stairs. Bam Bam (right) feeds him a cocktail in commiseration. That poor foot. It will never heal.

Martina (left) I had to heave into a cab myself, asking her "Are you sure you know what address to tell the cabbie?" and making sure to note the cab's license plate, just in case she turns up missing.
Aaron (in red) somehow went home without his keys. "Do you have my keys?" he texted me later from Brooklyn. "I do have your keys!" I found them in my pockets. Aaron texts back, "You have my keys? It must have been a good night." Indeed.

Behind the camera, the masses raise their voices in a rousing rendition of "My favorite things."

Friday, June 08, 2007

Nature's Viagra

Ok, we're back to animal fetish. The hospitality Coordinator from Q Festival in Fort Worth, Stuart, has an unlikely conversation piece hanging around his neck. Asked what it was, he tells me it's a Beaver penis bone. Naturally, I give him credit. He has a wild imagination.

Stuart goes on to say that his friend takes a big tupperware full of small mammal penis bones to the bar. If he makes a friend, he'll remove one, drill it, and throw it around their necks like a Fort Worth Lei. Penis bones in tupperwares? Is this a not-so urban myth? A Texan tall-tale?

Mammals don't have bones in their PENISES. Or do they? After a quick (and immediate) search on the web, I discover that many mammals actually put the bone in the boner.

Texan fashion: the hillbilly toothpick.


This sensible cast includes raccoons, bison, and (for you size-queens) the biggest of all--the 30 inch boner of a walrus (gotta get around that blubber one way or another!). You can find them here, on skullsunlimited.

There's a scientific name for these charms: Baculum. However, for those of us on the brink, let's use the local slang- the hillbilly toothpick.
As in:

"Jarvis, I got this doggone corn stuck in me teeth."

"Never fear, Beulah-Belle. I just treed a coon out back. Lemme plum shoot him down and bring you back a hillbilly toothpick!"

"Fiddleedee, Jarvis...chivalry ain't dead!"

Thursday, June 07, 2007

Red Dare

Hopefully you've all heard of what happened recently in Moscow. The mayor of Moscow has banned any gay pride parade, quelching any visibility or voice for Russian homosexuals.

Activists decided to congregate peacefully and march to city hall to deliver a letter of protest. On the way, as promised, they were violently attacked, just as they were in 2006.
But get this. The police watched as demonstrators were beaten and then...arrested them, not their attackers!

Some prominent members of the European Union were assaulted. The lead Russian activist, Nikolai Alekseev, was also arrested. Sticks and stones may break his bones, but you can't keep a courageous queen down. Phoning from his jail cell, Nikolai declared plans for a Moscow gay pride march next year. I think he's speaking to all of us.

As I prepare to march New York City's pride parade in red hot stilettos, I think it's high time to turn this red scare into a show of solidarity. Let's crash Moscow's forbidden gay pride march.

It's May 31st, 2008. I'm game. Are you?

Wednesday, June 06, 2007

Book Release Tonight

I have a gorgeous STYE in my eye, just in time for tonight's release party for my book "You Can Run." If you're in NYC, come on over to Vlada (331 West 51st between 8th and 9th) in Hell's Kitchen. If I'm wearing sunglasses inside the bar, you know why: I'm too sexy for my stye. I'll be whoring myself from 9 to midnight. Which is actually a short shift for me.

I haven't used this blog as a platform for sales, but I need your help! The time has come to coerce, convince, and otherwise plead with all you blog readers to support me and BUY MY BOOK HERE! It sparkles, it inspires, it will make you thankful for flush toilets.

The price is nearly $20 on Amazon, but the hardback (on the same Amazon page--look for the small print) is only $16. That's not even the price of two martinis. Two martinis last twenty minutes, You Can Run will last a lifetime. Especially for those of you who still struggle with reading.

Below is a synopsis which I didn't write, my publisher did. They're also responsible for putting my nipple on the cover of the book.


You Can Run: Gay, Glam, and Gritty Travels in South America follows the intrepid and fantastic--and totally true--adventures of flamboyant gay men through the gritty rough and tough of South America. Author Jesse Archer and his American boyfriend Zane spent nearly two years traveling the continent in search of adventure. And find it they did.

Discover incredible individuals like the Wolfman of Borneo, Santusa the fanged Chola of a different color, and Patricia the pink lady. Thrill to the astounding experiences of dodging crocodiles, doing a striptease for a Colombian bathroom bitch, admiring exultant transsexuals caught in a rainstorm, and navigating the most dangerous road in the world. This wild travel chronicle takes you through the real South America with wit, wisdom--and a hot pink wig!


They forgot to mention my torrid love affair with a plantain banana, and the time I bought cocaine inside a Bolivian prison. But thank heaven my overexposed nipple is on the cover!? Come tonight, and I'll flash it. You can even take pictures with it. This nipple is now seeking representation.

Tuesday, June 05, 2007

Southern Hospitality

"A Four Letter Word" won best gay feature at Q Film Festival in Fort Worth, Texas! Not only that, they treated me like a star! The whole festival staff was tops, and they put me up in a Best Western just outside of town with 1500 square feet of space...all to myself.

Yes, I luxuriated in the "Bill Clinton Penthouse" with a bubbling jacuzzi in the bedroom! The penthouse was oddly located on the ground floor, but it's Texas...they do things different here.


Gazing fondly out across my plantation, er, parking lot.














The Bill Clinton featured two stories filled with 2 showers, an office, walk-in closets, one glass chandelier and a staircase. My co-star Charlie David had an identical suite (the Elvis Presley) right beside me and we agreed--this was very very close to living out a Scarlett O'Hara Southern fantasy. All that was missing was Clark Gable. Him, and a tray of mint juleps.

Sunday, June 03, 2007

Texas!

Not sure which time zone I'm physically in. I made it from Honolulu to New York City to Texas. It was 5 planes and 5 time zones in 36 hours. I'm a little bit incoherent...but I'm loving Texas. There's a huge rivalry between sister cities Fort Worth and Dallas, but there's a huge six flags amusement park in between them, so who cares?!

Dallas has an incredible nightlife scene. On the Cedar Springs strip is a collection of eclectic bars all within spitting distance of each other: there's country western (round up), stand and model (JR's), leather daddy disco (TCM), and hot young disco (4S). I was bouncing back and forth between them all like a pinball on crack.

At one point I landed at the Rose Room to see a tranny/drag queen "performance." It's not a performance at all. What happens is some catchy pop tune ejects a trannies from backstage who sashays out into the audience not even pretending to lip synch. She simply catwalks to her fans, giving air kisses as she collects dollar bills. It's all very self-congratulatory. We get it, "Krystal Summers" - you look hot. Yawn.

Then all of a sudden the stage went dead. The lights were on but nobody was home. The DJ seemed confused, the next performer was announced, but the stage remained empty. A full minute went by and nothing. The tranny peeks out from behind the curtain to explain. "Sorry, folks, the show is experiencing some testicle difficulties."

Testicle difficulties. I'm still doubled over.

Saturday, June 02, 2007

Dolphin Laurie Strikes Back

Back to the beasteality we began two posts ago....

On wednesday, we took Captain Andy's catamaran cruise around Kauai's legendary Napali Coast. Not only were we there for the magestic scenery, we were also on the prowl for some marine wildlife. Yes, the folks from our favorite red state were on Board. Idaho Falls Laurie and her crew of hot gay toyfriends Jared, Scott and Wes.

Naturally, self-described "animal lover" Laurie was the first to spot dolphins at the bow of the boat. Spinner dolphins, it turns out. "I've never seen those before," said Laurie and we give pause to wonder: Seen, or fondled? Laurie quickly called out to the small pod with her fingers. Yes, those fingers. Like a predatory Aquaman.


Come here little dolphin, I wouldn't hurt you...

















I asked Scott if Laurie actually did finger the dolphins at the "Encounter" and he said no. "Well maybe she did," he thought about it. "You know when Laurie was a dog breeder she used to manually masturbate dogs." The plot thickens. When confronted, Laurie insisted she had to. It was her job to manually masturbate dogs.

I wanted to see Laurie in action, and she was game, so I asked Captain Andy if we could have a quick swim with the dolphins? "It's against the law," he said, adding "Swimming with dolphins is considered harrassment."

Captain Andy has no idea.