Hi baby, what's your name?

That is how my telephone conversations begin, from 9am to 1pm, Wednesday through Sunday. My new job as a phone sex operator is neither challenging nor rewarding, but it is occasionally interesting. I'm not sure how ethical it is to describe the nature of the calls, or the callers, or the staff at "the office" that I call into daily that monitor the calls. What I can talk about, is that it is becoming obvious that although this job is mildly amusing and has ample opportunities for shock value, I am not getting any sense of satisfation out of it, and very little monetary compensation. So, to offset the lunacy and derive something out of this experience, here are a few observations:

- Men do not believe it is gay for them to perform fellatio on a transsexual, or to have a transsexual return the favor, however, they are off-put by the phrase "return the favor"
- Phone sex callers are probably not big on cuddling with their real-life partners, my only evidence of this being the speed at which they hang-up the phone post-orgasm
- Some callers really make the phone operators angry, the ones who are already ready already, the ones who speak in voices so low that dogs wouldn't be able to hear them, the ones who want to meet me in person, and the ones who don't bother to describe themselves in flattering detail. I mean, I'm adding & subtracting a few inches here & there, why can't you do the same to give me something to work with?
- My work week begins on Wednesday and ends on Sunday, so when the supervisor asks me on Sunday to stay on for a few more hours, this is the wrong time to ask... it's equivalent to asking Peter to come in on Saturday, and how about you come in on Sunday too...
- The hours I work are not the busiest times of the day, so I am able to get a lot done around the house, which is cool, but, when a caller asks me where I am & what I'm wearing, I'm sorely tempted to respond that I'm in the kitchen, hip deep in dish suds, wearing sweat pants and a t-shirt with food stains... then again, I'm sure some guy out there finds that incredibly sexy
- I love callers that do the work for me. Guys who call in and describe what they want to do to me & ask me if I like it are great, even if they want to go ass to mouth. Sure, yeah, ok, whatever you want baby!
- Certain callers give me the creeps. Like the one who wants to screw the underage next door neighbor girl, or the one who's convinced I'm his soulmate and we should set things on fire together. These kinds of guys that I talk to on the phone are making it really difficult for any guy I meet in person to get anywhere near me.
- I'm not allowed to discuss drugs, pedophilia, necrophilia, bestiality, criminal activities, or give any details that would lead a caller to be able to find and/or contact me. But that leaves a whole range of things that I personally find ... icky. However, the upside of this is that I may be preventing some of these guys from actually going out and doing these things to another human. Unsure if that's exactly how it works or not, but it's something to hold onto in the hopes that it prevents violence or depravity amoung the general population.

This job may pay the bills for a short time, but I'm finding that like any other employment situation that I've ever been in, it's starting to suck my soul out from my nose.

Cinco de Mayo and Adventure Sex

I'm combining what were going to be 2 different entries because they now make more sense together than apart, kind of like Penn & Teller.

Last Saturday was May 5th, and it's celebrated in Mexico as Cindo de Mayo, a somewhat important national holiday. In several cities in the US, it's treated like the Mexican St. Patrick's Day; that is, as an excuse to drink & to have sex with strangers.

It was also JF's birthday, and since I've been trying to get over that particular heartbreak, I was happy to enjoy the festivities out at a local bar. Even better, an excellent band was playing that doesn't play together all the time, and I'm acquainted with the keyboard player. So, I showered/dressed/drove out there, found a seat at the bar, ordered a shot of tequila and a Coke and watched a little hockey while waiting for the show. Sitting to my left were a couple of average looking guys enjoying the game and waiting for the band. After my second shot of tequila, approximately an hour after I'd sat down, the man seated closest to me began talking to me, offering me a "cheers!" for being able to drink the shots without the silly salt&lemon ceremony. We talked & flirted for a while, listened to the band, and people-watched. He was probably about 15 minutes away from giving me his phone number when the band took a break. Well, not the whole band, just S., the previously mentioned keyboard player.

So, the bar guy goes to the men's room, but by the time he gets back, S. is sitting in his seat, my legs are in his lap, and his tongue is in my throat. Bad behavior on my part, but it gets worse. Earlier, while people-watching, we'd noticed a group of 4 people standing in front of the stage, and by now, one of the girls had come up and introduced herself to me, so when S. went back to up to play, she sat down on the empty stool and began over-sharing about her life. Long, drunken story short, me & S. were invited over to her neighbors house to party in the hottub. What's weird is that we went, but then it got even weirder.

The house with the hottub isn't far from the bar, so S. drives, and when we get there, it's not a party as I was led to believe, it's just the girl who invited me, and the homeowner, who's wife is passed out drunk in the next room. The homeowner, it turns out, has a new stash of Hawaiian, which I pass on in theory, but it's quite possible that all the smoke that was being blown into my face made me feel quite nice. Nice enough to strip down and get into the hottub with S., while the other two went out onto the front porch... and back in the house, and back out, and back in... it seems that they'd never done anything like that before, and didn't know how to handle it.

After about 8 minutes of weirdness, we got out, got dressed & went back to his place. Where we arrived to see 2 fire trucks putting out a car-becue 5 or 6 doors down. Going with the freakiness that was that evening, we made out in the car while the lights flashed on the firetrucks, lighting up the parking lot and the inside of the car, then got out to take a closer look. We walked past the badly burned car, across a couple lawns, go inside, commenced with more messing around on the couch, moved to his room, etc, etc. So, an interesting evening, Viva Cinco de Mayo!

List of My Favorite Celebrity Men

Here's my list, I've been egged on to put this out there by a friend of mine who's reminded me that it's ok, it's only the internet!

In no particular order, subject to change without notice:

Jeremy Piven
Clive Owen
Jason Statham
Patrick Warburton
Bruce Campbell
Hugh Laurie
Christian Bale
Nicolas Cage
John Cusack
Thomas Jane
Daniel Craig
Eric Bana
Karl Urban
Paul Rudd