Worst of Billy Watson

S.T.D.’s in Porn

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Ashley Blue
When I was in junior high, I had a Social Studies teacher who was a total hippy. He’d play records while we were working on whatever it was we were working on that day. One of his records was “The Worst of Jefferson Airplane”, and I’d always wonder why anyone would name anything “The Worst” of…until now.

Lately people have been asking about being male talent in this industry. I thought I’d reflect upon my experience.

This blog’s original air date: November 26th, 2005

Someone calling themself “Ashley Blue” recently posted in xxxporntalk:

The fashionable STDs to get contaminated with are:
1. staph infections
2. vaginitis
3. throat gonorrhea
4. chronic yeast infections

If you have these STDs, you are so last year.
1. chlamidia
2. cold sores
3. crabs
4. pink eye

Hmmmm. Let’s see. Funny?

Or, here’s a little story for ya: A log time ago, Spring Thomas calls me. She’s upset. There’s “something wrong” with her. She’s at the airport. She just got home from LA, where she was visiting her (then) boyfriend Mark Anthony. And she’s in a lot of pain.

“Come fast please,” she pleads.

I rush to the airport, pick her up, and take her back to my place…cause she’s got “something to show me”. She walks into my kitchen, drops her drawers, and turns around. And on her ass is the single largest sore I’ve ever seen in my life, bar none. I mean it’s the size of a grapefruit, and she’s in so much pain she can’t move.

In minutes we’re at the emergency room, and they take one look at this thing and shit. They shit all over the place and get her into a room and put her under and lance this thing.

Thing = severe staph infection.

Spring recovers, comes back to my pad and ends up healing there…for about a week.

All done.

At least that’s what I thought. Maybe 2 months later, a king sized zit pops out of the inside of my leg. I pop it. It returns, only bigger…and badder. Way bad.

It grows and grows and hurts and hurts, and suddenly, there I am at the doctors, getting my leg lanced. A few months later it’s come back – in my nose. Then, not too long later, my armpits. Then again in my pits. On top of my skull. Armpit again.

Don’t think I didn’t get blood tests at about round #2. Lots of antibiotics. Lots of pain.

I finally figured out this staph was living in my nose, and once I got that down, I was free. It only took about $600 in doctor’s bills and a whole lot of pain.

Turns out there’s a hugely resistant staph not only in Porno Land, but all over LA County. And it’s somewhat restricted to LA County, so when docs see it in, say, Florida, they don’t really know how to treat it effectively. Well, as effective as the docs in LA County do.

I got crabs in college. And chlamydia. And I have no idea where this blog is taking me.

Oh yea…almost all the talent in Porno Land has something. Let me put it another way – at any given time, if you fuck anyone – even once – in Porno Land, chances are you’re going to get something. Currently, gonorrhea and staph are all over the place.

See…this is a real side to a business that, for the most part, is nothing even close to real.

And ain’t as fun as you think.

Random Thoughts

My Pal Bob.

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Dylan
Don’t blame me for ignoring you guys lately. Sure, it’s my fault…just don’t lay the blame on me. If I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a million times: I really don’t have anything to say. At least not off the top of my head, and a lot of times I write best when I’m doing it off the top of my head. Well…sort of. So sit tight as I ramble about nothing particular at all.

I scored Dylan tickets. He’s playing at the Palladium next month. My date shall none other than The Fabulous Mz. Berlin. She’s already warned me she sings along loudly whenever she hears Dylan, and she double-warned me that she sings poorly, but that’s OK, cause Dylan’s no Pavarotti. She’s also warned me that if I don’t behave during our date I shall be caned, slapped, spanked, flogged, and humiliated in various ways.

I haven’t decided how I will behave that night, but if I was a betting man, I’d lay 7 to 2 odds I’ll wake up bruised the next day.

I told The Producer I was going to Dylan, and he told me Dylan was arrested recently after wandering around a neighborhood in New Jersey. Of course the officer didn’t know Dylan, but she’d heard of him, and it took his roadies pulling out his passport to suffice Officer Friendly.

Which reminds me of dinner the other night. I hate dropping names, but what the fuck? I had dinner the other night with Abbey Brooks and her agent and Mr POV when Agent tells us his dad “used to be a rock star” and he passed recently. Of course this piqued my interest, and I asked who: Pappa used to be a Raider.

As in Paul Revere and The Raiders.

I spun “Cherokee Nation” about a zillion times when I was 11 years old. I have no idea why I liked that song so much, but I did, and I had the 45, and I’d listen to it over and over, just like I listened to The Agent’s super duper stories about Pappa and all the Rock Stars he’d met over the years: Kiss (sans make-up when no one knew what they looked like without their make-up); Makenzie Phillips was his babysitter (and he had fun baby sitter stories); and he met just about every touring band in the 70’s and 80’s: Led Zeppelin, The Who, even Dokken! His dad just passed, and Paul McCartney even sent his condolences via e-mail. “You wouldn’t believe McCartney’s e-mail address,” he said. You wouldn’t either.

That’s about the time when Abbey said she had no idea who Paul Revere and The Raiders were, and then I went off on some tangent about time and how it only takes a generation to forget just about anything Pop Culture has to offer. Who survives? The Beatles?

Cause only about 50 people lined up on 09/09/09 to score a Beatles mono box at Amoeba. I was #9. How fucking cool is that for this geek boy? I’m #9 on 09/09/09 and yes, I got a monobox. Turns out we all did! I also got a stereo box, cause if I bought both I got the limited edition litho (1/10,000…which means there’s nothing “limited” about it, but I had to have one), and I even scored 2 Beatles 09.09.09 tee-shirts. Then I went home and listened to the box in chronological order. I got as far as the White Album. Those guys always amazed me. Not cause they’re so great; it’s the way the evolved over those 6 years and all the music they made during that short time frame. Never again, my friends. Not over 6 years.

Which is one year short of the time since I started shooting porn. I clocked year 7 last month. This is now officially the longest I’ve been at one job. I dunno even know what to think about that. Except The Minion is back in my corner — this time as an editor — and I’ve hired two new, part-time PA’s to replace him: Ricky and Mr. POV. Ricky used to be a gay porn star, and Mr. POV is on his way to becoming a porn star. So far things are fine & dandy (note the use of the ampersand…one of the most underrated punctuation marks). Mr POV even Twitters and Facebooks from time to time.

I have to draw the line somewhere.