A lot of the strip joints along Northwest Highway like to label themselves “Men’s Clubs”, and they’d play it up with nice tables, cushy sofas and over-sized chairs, and afternoon buffets with (believe it or not) edible food. They were fine, but I always preferred slumming it in the sleazy joints on Harry Hinds Blvd where C-grade strippers would give handies under the table for twenty bucks.
One day we busted into “Calig’s” and there, right in front of my very eyes, was Keisha. I missed her name on the marquee out front, but there was no missing her inside, working all the members of The Lonely Hearts Club who referred to themselves as “regulars”.
Strip joints in the afternoon — like getting wasted in the afternoon — was always a favorite of mine.
The only thing that surprised me more than Keisha working the stage? Keisha signing and selling stuff after her routine! I went straight for the cheezy, who-knows-what-kind-of-entity-owns-this ATM, and pulled out a couple hundred bucks (which cost me $10). Then, I stood in line.
I got lap dances from Keisha! She sat in my lap and whispered dirty things in my ear while she signed stuff!! I walked out with a couple of signed Polaroids (she had to shake them dry before they were good to go), a signed VHS, as well as a personally inscribed message on the inside of the bill of my SST baseball cap: “Billy, I want to taste your sweet cum! XOXO Keisha”. (SST was a punk label, and some of my favorite bands (Meat Puppets, Husker Dü, Minutemen) were SST bands).
Imagine that! A personal, heartfelt message from none other than adult superstar Keisha! And back at the office a couple hours later, it was show-and-tell time…and they all envied my super sweet Keisha swag.
How times have changed. I used to be a fan. I guess I still am. I like true amateur porn featuring people we’ve never seen before, but the problem is it’s scarce; in addition, I make smutty sleaze for a living now, and if I’ve said it once, I’ll say it a zillion times: if you wanna cure yourself of your Porno Fanboydom, just start making it for a living.
Not that I ever really was. My porno consumption in the old days was about every other week; I’d venture into Tower Records and see what new smut hit the shelves, and I’d rent a couple titles. I never bought a tape. I was a renter. And I preferred Tower Records to the porno shops, cause the Sleaze Factor was way diminished at Tower. And I always hated taking my smut to the counter, especially when a girl was behind the register. I’m sure you remember that feeling, too.
When VHS machines started selling for under a couple hundred bucks, I bought a second one so I could dupe scenes I liked, and a few favorites went on a compilation tape not unlike the one David hands Andy in “40 Year Old Virgin” — except mine was called Billy’s Boner Jams ’96.
After Keisha, I never met a Porno Princess until I met Phyllisha Anne at one of the very first Porno Webmaster Conventions ever held (New Orleans, 1999). By now, I was in the biz, and instead of “will you sign my cap?” my question was, “are you bookable, and how much to shoot you?” I would like to think Phyllisha Ann found my naïve question charming. “Oh, I’m bookable! When do you wanna work? How about in a couple hours? And how much you got in budget?”
Other than writing a letter and sending it to their PO Box (which wasn’t easy information to obtain, I suppose) there really wasn’t much of a way to communicate with your favorite Porno Princess…unless you lived in Porn Valley, I suppose. And then I guess it was total luck if you ran into one at, say, the produce section of Ralph’s…and had the balls to say hello.
Super creepy fun at Ralph’s!
Thank God for the internet! Thank God for mySpace!! Thank God for Twitter!!! Thank God for Facebook!!!!
Now you can tell your favorite Porno Princess all about your 10 inch cock, and send them the big cock pics you found online and say it’s you! Then tell your favorite girl how much you love them!! Try to arrange a meeting!! Feedback is immediate, too! No waiting around for a SASE to come back. You can communicate with your favorite Stunt Cock! Even producers and directors!! Then, when they don’t respond accordingly, you can tell them how much you hate them. You can get into all sorts of graphic detail about how much they suck, how much better you fuck, or how much better you take pictures and make movies; and, when they still don’t respond the way you want, you get really adventurous and post personal information like real names, addresses, family members…even make death threats! Then, after you grow bored, or you’re blocked out of their life, move on to the next!
Woot woot!
Thank God for the internet.
