It Lives!

September 23, 2009

Hey there buddies.  You all still there?  All like, three of you?  I’d forgive you if you’re off getting drunk at some other sexy blog stud’s place, after all I’ve been a slacker lately of epic proportions and I can only apologize for neglecting you.

Know what else has epic proportions?  My cock!  Drumcrash.

No really ladies.  My cock is colossal.

Talking of… sorry to the lady who sent me the rather vocal email about my last post regarding my cock and some lady’s ass-crack.  Seems that was a little blue below the belt.  The Bible Belt that is.  Oh fuck it, no I’m not sorry.   Even Jesus laughed at that line.

I’ve been so busy I haven’t had time to shit lately.  The past month or so has been crazy town around these parts.  I’ve played more shows in the past three weeks than I have in the past six months.  Some of those shows were in Memphis, Louisville, Little Rock and Corpus Christie.  Corpus was a badass town.  Pretty to look at, ocean right there and lots of sexy senoritas pouting all over the place.  You can’t get better than that.  Except maybe a blowjob from Adriana Lima.  Maybe.

Pedro accompanied me on all dates, that’s the musical sort not the romantic sort, I’m not a sick fucker or anything.  Although I’m sure he’d enjoy watching.  That voyeuristic little Mexican fuck.  Me, I haven’t even spent time with many ladies the past few weeks I’ve been working so hard.  The Captain’s cried real tears of sorrow over this.  Okay, he’s cried real tears of sperm.  I mean the Nivea pot’s almost empty.   Fuck me, I need to get laid by a real pussy soon.

And by “real pussy” I’m not talking about that dude with the fake face that used to be in Poison.

One lady I did dally with was in Louisville.  Her name was Stella and she was a waitress at a burger joint.  Maybe 35, plump in all the right places, ass like a hippopotamus.  Tony likes asses like hippos.  More cushion for the pushin’ and all that cliched shit.  Stella was a good ole country gal with rosy cheeks, on both ends after I’d done with her.  She enjoyed a bit of the old paddling.  I’m not much one for bondage but hell, if a lady wants her ass scorched I can oblige, know what I’m saying?  If it’s ass related it’s for me.

I also had an “incident” in Memphis with a tourist lady who’d come to town to see Graceland.  She kept yelling out “Do Elvis! Do Elvis!” prompting a colorful remark from me about necrophilia.  Hell, I thought it was hilarious.  Her, not so much.  She launched a highball glass at me like she was pitching a fuckin’ fastball.  I had to get stitches and everything. Elvis has some ferocious fans.  You can probably slander their mothers but don’t talk about fucking Elvis’s cold, dead body unless you want a trip to the ER.

Anyway, this is getting lengthy (that’s what HE said) so I’ll leave it there.  Hope y’all are doing well.  I’m gonna start doing more commenting, I’m a lame fucking blog friend for sure.

Peace out guys.


The Old Guy’s Still Got It

August 12, 2009

Hey there!  It’s been a while.  I have no excuses so I won’t give you any.

Guess what I did the other day?  Two chicks on the same day!  Really.  I do have standards even if they’re on the low end of the scale much of the time, but usually I have a break between chicks unless it’s a threesome.  Although, honestly I’m getting kind of long in the tooth for two chicks at once, you dig?  Anyway the two chicks the other day were room-mates.  For real, neither knew about the other so I hope nothing occurred later when they figured it out.  I didn’t see any homicides on the news so I think I got away with it.

One of the chicks – let’s call her Amanda  (It’s not her real name, her real name’s Debra) was stacked like Walmart at Christmas time.  Sweater meat out to here.  The girl could hold up a condo with the contents of her bra.  And y’all know me, I’m not averse to a little boob jiggle action.  I motorboated that girl till I almost asphixiated.  But what a way to go, right fellas?  She wasn’t much use in the sack old Amanda, but she had it going on in the northern continent so I let her off.

Her room mate though, let’s call her June as that really was her name, she was flat as a pancake in the chestular department but had an ass like a well-bred Mexican donkey.  I mean that as a compliment in case you were wondering.  She had a great big thundering ass you wanted to pound till next Tuesday.  Every time I flipped her over however, she’d flip right back with a disgruntled sigh.  The most I got to do in that region was slide the Captain along her ass crack a couple of times.  She was not up for any doggy action which made the Captain sad.

Am I getting too graphic for y’all?  Good.

Anyway, two chicks on one day wore me out and made me realize that I am officially fucking old.  In fact, it’s my birthday next week.  Not that numbers really bother me and a guy’s like a fine wine – he gets more fantastic with a few grays in his sideboards.  That’s what I tell myself anyway.  I did check south of the border and I’m still all man, all black haired awesome down there, so no worries about getting a mouthful of gray ladies.

This entry sort of turned me on, I have to go open a new jar of Nivea and whack it to Kim Kardashian’s ass till my hand cramps.

Hope y’all are well.  I love you guys.  All three of ya.

A Senior Moment

July 27, 2009

Hi there compadres. Once again, apologies for the big lapse in posting but I’ve been busy as shit.  I’ve had shows almost every damn night and only a handful were for the seniors, before you go suggesting it.   Sure, none of them are exactly big time but they pay the rent you dig? And they’re usually a ton of fun.  Even the seniors. In fact I’d say the seniors know how to appreciate a dude in cerise satin. I mean have you seen the shit they wear?  They sport the polyester like it’s going out of style.  The static shock you get from entering a room full of old people could knock an elephant on its ass.  But man, watch out for those old ladies, they’re killer.  If I had a dollar for every old dear who’s gotten her withered old pincers into my hiney, I could retire already.    Some nights entering an old folks hall is like watching outtakes for “Night of the Living Dead”.

Not that I’m being deliberately mean to the oldies.  Hell, I’m not too proud to admit I had me a time, a couple years back, with an older gal.  Judith, her name was and she was 67 years old and spunky as all hell.  She was like Bea Arthur if Bea Arthur didn’t have a penis.   Tall, sassy, deep husky voice. I can’t vouch for Bea but Judith could do things with a vagina that could make a man cry.  Or bruise.  For an old bird she sure had some kegel strength.  And so maybe I was drunk at the time, clouding my judgment a little, I’d still have done her sober, the saucy old minx.

Still, the old people I perform for ain’t often like Judith.  Usually they’re totally crazy, half inebriated, tubby, wrinkly little demons of pure evil, dressed in nylon that would make the seventies cry and sporting stupendous pastel colored hair.  And that’s just the guys!  Heh.

You ain’t seen nothing till you’ve seen a room full of 70 year olds letting it all hang out to a Stones cover, while their bat-wing under arms flap around in the wind and their decrepit old pelvises gyrate and creak like an old gate till inevitably someone puts their back out and has to be stretchered to hospital.   You’re delighted by the free bar at these events let me tell you.  A few martinis dulls the torture of seeing 80 year old Elsie lifting her skirt and flashing a nylon hose-covered ass to the room.  An ass that starts at her knees and winds up at her underarms.  Try erasing that image from  your brain.

So yeah that about sums it up for my life lately.  I’m hoping for a break soon.  Mainly because all this gigging is tiring me out and leaving me too bushed to appropriately tend to the ladies.  The Captain’s not talking to me because he hasn’t pierced a vagina in about  nine days.   It’s time to get my life back!

The Spunk Still Lives

July 10, 2009

I really sort of dig reading the search queries that bring people by this here hole in the wall blog. Sadly they’re not going to win prizes for variety although I wonder how much a guy who searches for “I want you to spunk on my boots” gets out of his visit? To my knowledge I haven’t covered the topic of spunking on footwear. You can’t go wasting your seed on boots, man. Save it for boobies.

To the person who wanted to know “where can I spank some midgets” I have no idea, truly and I’m sorry you must have been seriously disappointed.

The guy (I assume it can only be a guy, right?) who wanted, “martini whores Mexican bull assfuck” – what the fuck buddy? Although if you find what you’re looking for, drop me a line, okay? Wink.

My favorite of all was “dick rash spunk overload” which sounds like an underground thrash band only more alarming. I hope you got that sorted out man, before things got ugly. Uglier. And if spunk overload gave your dick a rash, I’d be living in the ER by now.

I will end by telling the lady (please let it be a lady) who searched for “lounge honey”, I am available.

A real update soon. I have been busy as a fucking fuck.

Update From a Lazy Shit

June 23, 2009

Hey guys, I’ve been enjoying some good old fun in the sun. And yes, by “fun” I absolutely mean dealing the salami to some ladies in the open air. There’s nothing quite like hitting some grade A, prime lady fillet in the fresh air. You see summer turns a man’s fancy to the ladies and those of you now thinking “only summer, are you sure?”, fuck you guys.

Heh, I’m kidding. Although I don’t know, would you be up for it? I’m kinda horny.

No, you see summer is all sunny and lazy and the ladies let their guards down a bit, as well as their panties, so all is well with the world. I mean who doesn’t love a half naked lady with the sun shining on her naked ass? Who doesn’t love to look up at those bouncing Alps glistening in the sun as she’s demonstrating her rodeo skills?

Oh look, there goes the Captain again. Down boy!

What was I saying? Oh yes, I’ve been staying at my ma’s place out in the desert while she’s visiting her aunt and uncle in Bumsfuck, Arkansas. It’s the same house I grew up in – the house that used to be filled with music, laughter, drinking, wild parties and mariachi music and occasionally the poignant musical tones of my aunt Lola fucking some undesirable in the basement when she was supposed to be getting ice – the house where my uncle Dick Spunk used to slip me cigarettes and give me advice on how to entice the ladies. Uncle Dick knew a thing or two about the ladies, the drunk old bastard. He used to bed more ladies than Warren Beatty back in the day and he was only a tenth as handsome. The way he tells it though, he might be a tenth as handsome but he has a cock the size of a baseball bat and he can outperform a jackhammer and Warren Beatty can just suck it (both literally and figuratively). You remember those lame porno pens with the lady inside and when you pressed the button her clothes fell off? Well for my seventh birthday, my uncle Dick gave me a similar pen, only when you pressed the button on this pen, the lady got fucked by a donkey. He got it in Mexico, naturally, those depraved fuckers.

So yeah I’m out at the farm and the old place is creaking up a storm. It’s been here since 1947 when my grandparents built it, and now it’s getting a little much for my ma I think. I’ve been keeping it warm while she’s gone by entertaining a host of delectable female types with my expert Martini making skills and my Magnum mustache. A killer combo if I do say so myself.

Tonight’s a night off though, to go over some stuff with Pedro. Music stuff. Plus I’m sort of shagged out as the Limeys say. I was short of a date last night so I resorted to one of my crazy stalkers, Oral Olive. Before you all go getting excited, she doesn’t provide the oral you understand – not without some persuasion and strawberry yogurt at least, she just demands it. My fuckin’ tongue feels like it got caught all up in a blender. But the good thing about Olive is she’s not all that smart – I know this is mean but really, she’s dumb as packet of ice – so it’s easy to persuade her to do stuff, especially after a tongue lashing. So if you want some serious hip-thrusting, doggy-style action over a garden fence say, you just have to tell her that you heard she’s way more fun than other women and she’s all eager to prove it.

I know, I’m a dirty fucking dog, I admit it.

But come on, you all missed me.

Lola: Part 72

June 3, 2009

To the person who came here looking for a “spunk receptacle” I sure hope you found what you were looking for. You know, elsewhere.

Talking of spunk receptacles, I had lunch with my aunt Lola today. Aw don’t look at me like that, Lola’s a whore, you know it and I know it. And she sure knows it.

I got back from L.A. last night (more about that another day – it’s worth waiting for I promise) and Lola practically begged me to buy her lunch so I knew something was amiss. I’m the only family member she can talk to about anything. See I’m a man of the world. For some reason this makes her blurt out the most ridiculously nauseating stuff that makes me want to bleach my memory afterwards. I could feel it coming.

“It’s my flower.” she whispered, as we waited to be seated in the busy “Pig & Whistle”. “Damn thing’s infected!”

Now that right there should have been a clue that I should have had a “previous engagement” I’d forgotten about suddenly come to light and hot tailed it out of there, pronto. Because “flower” is the word Lola uses for her lady parts. Her pussy. Flower’s sort of an ironically delicate word for it in my opinion because Lola’s pussy’s seen more action than Arnold Schwarzenegger.

I was kind of worried what was coming. Luckily I didn’t have to wait long to find out.

“Son,” she said when we’d sat down and were awaiting our order. “Son, I found crabs in my flower and I panicked and doused ’em with Windex.” Lola said.

Allow me to let that sink in for a minute. Lola found crabs in her lady region and sprayed the fuckers with Windex.

“Windex?” I finally said weakly. “What the shit, Lola? You need to blast those fuckers out, not shine the shit out of them.”

“Well the fuckin’ Febreeze didn’t do nothin'” she growled. “Windex was all else I had.”

I tried desperately to erase the mental image of my aunt Febreezing the hell out of her muff.

“Did it work?” I asked, already afraid of the answer.

“Did it sweet shittin’ Jesus!” she said angrily. “Made me itch like a motherfucker. I’m red raw from scratching that dang thing. Feel like my crotch got pounded by fire ants!”

I sort of lost my appetite.

“I partied with an entire varsity football team one time” Lola said later, while picking at some English style fish and chips. “And even after that I could walk better than I can today.”

So welcome to my family. We exude classy.

Greetings from the Left Coast

May 27, 2009

Mis hermanos!

And ladies, I don’t wish to discriminate none. Hope y’all are having a dandy ole Memorial Day week – Tony always extends holidays to an entire week of celebratory fun because I am all about the fun. Especially when the fun = the ladies.

Hey guess what? I’m in Los freaking Angeles. Man, you never saw a city more full of deviants than good old L.A. I’m not kidding, for every one normal person in L.A. there are about eighteen freaking deviants or perverts. What a fucking excellent place! I wouldn’t want to live here full time or nothing because I’d like to keep what’s left of my soul intact in case I’m wrong and there is a heaven after all. But the city of angels is trying its best to lure it out of me.

Firstly its good points are as follows; lots of babes not wearing much in the clothing department. This is always a good development even when they’re of the ridiculous variety like a lot of the chicas here. Big everything. Big hair, big racks, big tans, big egos. Crazy.

I’m a little more picky (no really I am). I like a little junk in the trunk. These skinny ladies with the xylophone ribs don’t do it for me. No one wants to bounce around on a bony chick, man, a dude might as well get it on with a railroad track. A lady needs some round bits. Some nice soft curves. Am I right? Damn right I am. L.A. chicks are just into eating celery and sucking their cheek bones in. It’s scary. Not that I wouldn’t hit that if desperate you understand. All you need to do is tell these chicks you’re a producer or something and their clothes practically fall off right there. No tequila necessary, gracias. Desperation kinda turns me off to be honest. I like to work for it. Those ladies have the look of a wolf circling a lamb. It’s off putting.

Tomorrow I’m hanging with my bud Donny Ono. He’s the guy I told y’all about before, Japanese Elvis impersonator. He’s more comedy than bona fide impersonator though. I’m not sure he means to be but either way, he’s a funny fuck. I once saw him, drunk off his ass in Vegas being fellated by a 600 lb lady porn model – no kidding! He likes the big ladies but that was like seeing a hot air balloon sucking off a toothpick. Kind of obscene but kind of fascinating.

Okay, I’m off to a Mexican calypso bar for some good times. I’m bringing hand sanitizer and a good time in my pants. Stay classy y’all.