West Hollywood's Growing Homeless Population

Not sure if you've noticed it, but there has been a huge spike in homeless people in West Hollywood. On any given night or early morning you can find one or two hanging out sleeping in front of City Hall. This could be due to all the construction in the area. I spoke to a friend that lives near Miracle Mile and there are a lot of new buildings popping up and the homeless seem to be doubling. And these are not the quiet ones I am familiar with and give nicknames to like Ogg, Clarinet Hobo, The Model, and Red Riding Hood. These are some tweaked out psychos that scream at people or fight and the police arrive 45 minutes later to do a drive through Gold Coast's parking lot when the coast is clear.

Wish For WeHo Walgreens

I went to this place called Tasty Donut here in West Hollywood. I’ve been going to this place since I was, like, 16 years old. That means that for more than half my life I have known this place existed and have consumed it. Over the past five years or so the quality has been dropping. Not to mention that damned young girl behind the counter that hates having to get off her phone to help you. God forbid you give them money. I went yesterday and she fucked up my order which made me quite bitter since I get the same thing every time I go there. Now there’s a threat to this mom and pop donut shop. I rhymed!

Here Come The Twinks

Wikipedia says that a "Twink is a gay slang term describing a young or young-looking gay man (18–23 age category) with a slender, ectomorph build, little or no body hair, and no facial hair. In some societies, the term chick or chicken is preferred. The related term twinkle-toes, which implies that a man is effeminate, tends to be used in a derogatory manner. The terms can be complimentary or pejorative…a twink is ‘memorable for his outer packaging‘, not his ‘inner depth’.”

I’ve mentioned before that one of the things I like about gay people is the fact that they have types. I think it makes life so much easier when you can say “This is the only thing I am into and all I shall pursue.” I could totally be a twink if it wasn’t for this body fat and stupid facial hair. Oh and the whole not being into dudes thing. That gets in the way as well. I usually see twinks here in West Hollywood during the spring and summer. They come out of nowhere and travel in packs cruising for some action. Here’s how I see twinks. Picture the most annoying gay kid you knew in school. Okay. Got it? Now picture him being around 19 years old and still acting the same. Loud, obnoxious, and thinking they are all that. Maybe I’m wrong. I doubt it but maybe I am.

The Gay Bar

I often tell my friends about all the crazy nonsense that happens at the gay bar across the street. Its called The Gold Coast. That name brings to mind images of bright light, fun, and good times. Sadly I’ll never experience the joys inside this place. There was a story in an LA Times blog about this place in which they talked about dive bars and they included The Gold Coast. This place is past a dive bar. If you’re here you’ve already fallen.

The Gypsies

I typed in “gypsy” in Google and this is one of the first images to show up. Oddly enough this actually looks just like one of the people in the family of gypsies that have occupied my, ahem, fair city ever since I start living here. When I first started working in the porn shop I was told by a manager to “watch them.” It didn’t take long for me to figure out why.

They had a whole routine that they would do. Let me set the scene for you. Mom would come in (full head wrap and everything) and head for the snacks. Yes there were snacks in the porn shop. She would linger at the snacks while her son and daughter would scramble like fighter jets and head to the magazines. And like there was a silent whistle they would depart at the same time. Couldn’t prove anything yet but you knew the store was looted.

Gas Or Ass?

“Ha ha. Very funny.”

Ah, these could’ve easily been my last words. Not very dramatic nor awe inspiring. I would prefer “Hey, look at this!” or “I did it…for Johnny…” One day, it was a Halloween years ago, I was off. I was laying in bed half awake half asleep because I used to do that back in the day. All of a sudden a bullhorn outside startles the hell out of me.

“Tenants in the building on My Street! Evacuate immediately! There is a gas leak!”

I said “Ha ha. Very funny” thinking it was a Halloween joke. So I threw the covers back over my head and cursed whoever the hell it was playing a joke when I wanted to stay in bed and watch The Price Is Right. How dare they ruin my day with their shenanigans?! A couple minutes later they repeat the announcement. I got pissed so I stepped into my hallway and took a sniff. Guess what I smelled?

Porn Tales 2

The porn shop always had issues. Besides the random power outage it was stricken with leaks. Oh my god the leaks! Once the ceiling in the backroom where we put tapes and DVD’s together started leaking. Know why? An angry tenant stuffed his toilet full of tissue paper and it flooded sending doo-doo water all over the place.

And then there was the flying Mexican. There was this one leak that kept on going on near the front counter. We would  put a bucket to gather it and it would be nice and brown. I kept on saying, “That shit is gonna cave in one day.” And boy did it ever!

I come back from my lunch break and this is what I hear from a co-worker.

Him: “The ceiling caved in.”


Me: “Really? Damn it. I missed it.”


Him: “Go look.”


Me: “I. Will.”

He had the understatement of the year! I went to the front counter and it was like a grenade went off. I step over the rubble and a female co-worker is sitting behind the counter. I’m staring at the hole and can actually see the light in the bathroom ceiling up there. A customer walks up and says the following to me and my co-worker.

Customer: “A guy fell through that.”


Me: “Whaaaa….?”


Her: “What?!”


Customer: “Yeah. He fell through, got up, and walked out.”


Her: “No.”


Customer: “Yeah. He left.”


Her: “I didn’t see anybody.”


Me: “That’s awesome!”

When my manager showed up we watched the footage that was recorded. Sure enough, a Mexican dude did indeed fall through the ceiling. This guy fell three stories, hit the lube rack, and jumped up and left to call his boss to tell him what happened. On the tape customers scrambled to the back of the store when it caved in and the co-worker was sitting on her fat ass reading magazines.

The ceiling was eventually patched up, we all had a good laugh, and everything was perfectly fine after that.

Until three days later when it started leaking again.

Watersports

People pee on people. Not only do people pee on people but they enjoy it. Some even pay for it! Its called watersports and it scares me. I have asked friends how people get into this kinda stuff. Do you accidentally get pissed on and go “Hey, that’s not bad. Not bad at all…”

Wikipedia describes it was “Those who enjoy urolagnia may enjoy urinating on another person or persons, or being urinated upon. Some participants may drink the urine; this practice is known as urophagia, though uraphagia refers to the consumption of urine regardless of whether the context is sexual. Urolagnia enthusiasts may participate in urolagnia as part of a domination and submission scene, though not all sexual activity involving urine is so.”

Nope.

Urbandictionary describes it as “When subject A urinates in the face of subject B. Not only does it cause a watery, glissening face, but also may spark memories of nostalgia of one of the subjects' childhood memories of swimming in the pool, playing games with dear old decrepid Granny.”

Double nope!

Watersport films used to be illegal to buy or sell in California. Then one day all of a sudden it wasn’t and the porn shop was slammed with piss tapes with such creative titles as Piss Piss & More Piss, Golden Showered, Yellow Snow, Golden Rain, Young Twinks Beg For Piss. The titles became less creative over time.

These films were close to the definition of “If the cover is bad don’t turn it over and look at the back!” I had to learn this rule the hard way on multiple occasions. If a man is smiling on the cover as a stream of urine is coming towards his face its probably a good idea to just scan the video and stare at the ceiling.

West Hollywood Walk of Shame 1

While working in the porn shop many celebrities would come in. Some F List actors and some very well known and popular ones. Some of them I would spot and ring up and go “Did that just happen?” This particular one hadn’t even crossed my mind until he made a recent comment online about someone that had recently passed away and I got upset. So for putting yourself on my radar, this is for you Roger Ebert.

Wikipedia describes swingers as “…a non-monogamous behavior, in which both partners in a committed relationship agree, as a couple, for both partners to engage in sexual activities with other couples as a recreational or social activity.” We sold plenty of swinger magazines. Newspaper printed and stapled shut, though that didn’t stop people from trying to actually read between the staples instead of spending the $2 to buy it.

One morning I was sitting at the counter reading a book (likely David Sedaris) when I hear someone slap a magazine on the counter. I look up and its fucking Roger Ebert, Yes, that Roger Ebert. This was pre-no jaw Ebert and I was kinda startled. Not because of who it was, but because of what he was buying.

A stack of swinger magazines!

My brain went through a range of emotions.

Huh?

No way.

Ew.

Figures.

All I knew about him was that he was married to a big Black woman, hated movies I liked, and was way shorter than I thought he’d be. He didn’t say hello or anything. He just looked away while I rang him up. I mentioned him being there to a co-worker and they were like “He’s been coming in here for years.”

Double ew.

Could you imagine the horror of answering a swing ad and get to the house and Roger fucking Ebert answered the door?

“I give that cock two thumbs down!”

Nasty Old Men

I think the closest I will ever feel to being a hot chick is when I worked at the porn shop. I got hit on. A lot. By men. As some of you may know, I’m not gay. Yes, I am serious. Don’t let the smooth taste feel you. But at the porn shop guys would hit on me or stare at me with bad intentions in their eyes.

Now, a certain type of man is attracted to me. In the real world, women who are older than me like me or ones that are younger. Rarely around my age. With guys its old White men. Old White men love me. They wanted a piece of The Chocolate Hammer and for the ones that came in there (pun so not intended) I was just this dark tease that sat at the counter ignoring them. There was nothing like placing magazines on the rack and feeling someone creeping up on you as you stood up.

Old men hit on you in a special way. These nasty bastards would creep up on me and just look for a while out the corner of their eye. I would sigh and try to disappear. It didn’t work. Here is almost verbatim a conversation I’ve had a while ago.

Them: “Hey.”

Me: “Yes?”

Them: “You new?”

Me: “No.”

Them: “What’s your name?”

Me: “Michael.”

Them: “Like Jordan?”

Me: (sigh)

Them: “When you get off?”

Me: (looks at clock that says 6:10am) “Way later.”

Them: “That’s too bad.”

Me: “No it isn’t.”

You have no idea how many old men I have kicked out the porn shop for touching themselves. Some old men are so old they don’t know that they’re dead. There was this one guy we used to call Lazarus. We called him that because he looked like he rose from the dead and always asked current issue related questions. One time we blew his mind.

Lazarus: “Who is the president?”

Me: “George Bush.”

He looked like he was going to fucking faint. I didn’t mention to him it was George W. Bush. I think he thought he had actually traveled back in time. At least he didn’t play with his withered old wang in the store. This other old man loved Puerto Rican men. Loved them. I wont say his first name here.

Johnson: “Y’all got that Rican’s Freaking? Rican ‘Struction? Big Dick Ricans? Rican’s Freaking 2?”

Old men definitely have a type. And I apparently was the type for men. Old Black men didn’t really like me. Why? I don’t know. Maybe I reminded the old White dudes of all the Black junk they couldn’t get back during the Civil Rights movement. Brings a whole new meaning to “We Shall Over Cum…”

Joys Of Weho Part 2

There are a lot of strange ass people in this city. When I worked in the porn shop many of them would visit and get a nick name that fit their character. There was Red Riding Hood, Scabitha, The Gypsies, Overring, Crazy White Guy, and The Model.

But none of them compare to Captain Cucumber. (click image to “enlarge”)

I have been seeing this guy on my street for over a decade now. He never talks to anyone. He never buys anything. He never does not not have a massive dick. There’s no other way to put it. His dick is the size of a beer can. Strangely enough, its never hard. Its just this…blob that sits in his biker shorts. How can I know so much about another man’s penis? Because I have had to see it for years!

You cant not look at it! Its, like, there! He always has the same outfit but different colors. Biker shorts, hoodie, sneakers, and high socks. When the Laker's are winning he sports purple and gold. He disappeared once for a year and came back super thin. Over the next few months he gained all his weight back. No, I don’t know if his junk lost weight but I would imagine that’s where he stores food much like a camel.

I don’t know if any woman would want a dick that big or if any man would be willing to risk his ass to take on that challenge. I’m not even sure if he’s a cruiser. He just parades up and down the parking lot letting his dong (how many more names for penis can I come up with) flop in the breeze. Just so you know, I do not want a wang this big. There’s nothing I can do with that. I don’t even want to bang a woman that could comfortably take that! No amount of yoga can take that. You can do as many Downward Praying Housecat’s as you want and not handle the magic that is Captain Cucumber.

Porn Tales 1

Working in the porn shop like I did for seven long years, you get used to lots of weird requests. “Can I try this cock ring on here?” “Can I bring this dildo back if he doesn’t like it?” “What’s your name, cutie?” But out of all of these the strangest, though it may not seem like it, is this:

“Can I use your restroom?”

Seems innocent enough, right? No! You know how much weird, freaky shit can happen in a bathroom at a normal place, imagine the levels of depravity humans can reach whilst in the throws of passion in a porn shop with a stack of magazines. Here are two nasty ass stories.

One morning we (the employees) noticed something weird on the wall in the employee bathroom. By the way there was no customer bathroom. Anyway, we saw these weird marks across from the toilet on the wall. Me and the only other straight dude kept asking “What the hell is that?”

Another employee came in and said “Footprints” very matter of factly. So, in our ignorance we then asked “Why would there be footprints there?” The employee then sat on the toilet while holding a magazine (someone kept leaving Handjob magazines in the bathroom; imagine Penthouse letters but way more vulgar and for gay dudes), leaned back and placed his feet perfectly on the wall while simulating masturbation. I screamed and ran out the bathroom.

Another time this dude came into the store and vanished. I’m serious. This happened all the time. People would wander in and literally vanish. So one of my co-workers came in and opened the bathroom door to find a large Black dude sitting on the toilet.

“I’m naked…” is all he said.

So yeah we called the cops and they actually showed up. Truly shocking. They tossed his bag and found needles, drugs, and old ass porno mags. He had spread out a bunch on the floor in the bathroom for his entertainment. So, no. There were no customer bathrooms.

Poppers

“Ooh! I love poppers!”

Oh, poor, silly Dante. When I first started working at the porn shop I was introduced to the world of poppers. In my world poppers were what you wrapped fragile things in before shipping them. To this day I play with the stuff and have a two foot roll always on hand in my apartment. The poppers my supervisor was telling me about caused joy, but not the kind I was thinking of.

Wikipedia describes poppers as being “originally marketed as a prescription drug in 1937, amyl nitrite remained so until 1960, when the Food and Drug Administration removed the prescription requirement due to its safety record. This requirement was reinstated in 1969, after observation of an increase in recreational use.”

Urbandictionary describes them as “Amyl Nitrate. Refers to a small, usually brown bottle of solvents or the solvents themselves, which are sniffed, usually during homosexual sex by the bottom. Amyl Nitrate boosts blood pressure, relaxing the anus and making anal sex more comfortable. Also known as snappers.”

Poppers come in these little bottles and can be sold here, but only under their actual name. Names such as Rush, Mr. Wonderful (not Paul Orndoff), Can Opener, Jungle Juice, Ram, Hardware, and Bolt. I’ve sold this crap to many celebrities, even some who have boasted of their sobriety to the world. If this blog ever gets popular I am so naming names!

This stuff smells like shit by the way. If robots got STD’s it would smell like this. You’re supposed to hold the bottle near your nose, feel loopy, and a few days later wonder why your cock is laying next to you crying and you’re shitting flapjacks. One night this French dame drank some thinking it was funny until she and her buddies saw I wasn’t  laughing.

French Man: “Haw haw haw!” (that’s French laughter by the way) “She drank ze whole thing!”

Me: “Uh, you’re not supposed to drink it.”

French Man: (silence)

Me: “Yeah, that’s poisonous.”

It has a skull and crossbones on it! Some people would stumble into the porn shop at 6am with scabs and scars on their nose and lips asking for more. I had to cut people off a few times. Long term use can cause brain damage and thinking sex with random ass people is perfectly fine. So don’t try it. Or whippets. But that’s for another blog.

Joys Of Weho Part 1

This is the embodiment of fear. Me and my heterosexual life mate Alex from The DNA Show went to see a movie at The Grove the other day and saw this guy (yes, that’s a guy) just cruising along on his bicycle wearing a green two piece. This guy was a definite traffic stopper in all the wrong ways. Right now the West Hollywood Pride Parade is going on and I am being bombarded by loud music and horns. Yeah, good times. So come to West Hollywood for the fun, stay for the poppers!