Archive for the ‘los angeles’ Category

Shop till you pop.

I'll take one in each size

I’ve recently had the good fortune to find myself with a bit more discretionary cash. Thanks to the economic stimulus, business has been good. More customers, more cash. Thanks Obama!

So, what to do with a spare few hundred bucks? Like you need to ask.

This time around, I decided to venture away from my usual encounters. Find a new in well to dip my quill in, a new crankcase to dip my dipstick, a new scabbard for my sword. New pussy, I’m talking about trying to find new pussy. Sorry to be so vague.

But where to go, where to look? Well, let’s go shopping for pussy, shall we?

First stop: Eros.com. I have to say, overall, this is where I’m finding quality companionship. But, damn, they make it difficult for the consumer. I think that, in a nutshell, is the problem with this site. They don’t know who the consumer is. It’s a difficult site to slog through. Bad layout. Most websites, whether news pages, shopping sites or classified listings, the main body of the page is front and center. If there are ads, they’ll be on a sidebar alongside the main article. On Eros, it’s the other way around. Huge swaths of web page real estate are given to outside banner ads. When you open any page, the first thing you see, smack dab in the middle of the screen is huge banner ads… for other escort ad sites. WTF? In fact, what should be the primary focus, the escort ads, are all tiny thumbnails running in a sidebar along the left hand side of the page. For example, I’m looking for escorts in Los Angeles, I have to scroll through a menu of cities, which takes me to a block of text links. VIP escorts, All female escorts, Visiting escorts… and about a dozen and a half different categories. Fuck it, let’s just see what’s in All Escorts. Oh, look, huge banner ads that’ll take me to pay sites. That’s what I’m looking for. No wait, I’m looking for hookers, where are they? Those tiny thumbnails. And chances are, no matter what category you choose, VIP, Visiting, Redhead, Mature, Incall, GFE… you’ll see the same 5 or 6 ads listed first. I guess those are the agencies… errr, I mean escorts… that paid a premium for having their thumbnail listed at the top of every fucking sidebar on every fucking page. It all smells vaguely pimpy.

As for the categories, it doesn’t seem to make any difference what you’re looking for. It appears that escorts can self-categorize any damn way they want. So, I’ve found listings for girls in the “Full Figured” category who are 5’1″, 110 pounds and 32 bust. The first listing in the “Redhead” category is a blonde. Followed by 3 brunets. There are 18, 20, 23 year olds listed in the “Mature” category. The categories are meaningless. Just as bad, is that an escort can give herself any name she wants, which becomes the headline for her ad. So, instead of “Sally Escort”, you’ll get “Sally VIP XXX Escort 36DDD in Beverly Hills.” I guess if some girl decided to name herself “I Will Suck Your Dick For Money In Van Nuys” they’d list that, too. There doesn’t seem to be anyone actually looking at the ads they sell and checking for quality control. Also, the Search function doesn’t work. Oh, I mean it works, just that it doesn’t actually return results based on what you’re searching for. Search for “Amber”, you’ll get “Shania”. So, even if you go in looking for contact information on a specific provider, you may still just get whoever they’re pimping… errr… whoever paid more for priority placement.

Like I said, they don’t seem to know who their customers are. And let me be clear here, I’m not their customer. I’m the target audience their customers are trying to reach. Escorts are their customers. Escorts are the ones paying them for ad space, ads whose rates are presumably based on being able to deliver the target audience. But instead, they’re sending the target audience off-site to a pay-per-view porn site or adult dating scam site.

Then there’s That Mall. Hey, That Mall, 1990 called, they want their web site design back. Practically useless. There’s a few things on there that make me chuckle. On the sidebar menu, under escorts they list 3 categories. Female. Male. Asian. Wait, what…? What if you’re a female Asian? Which category would they put you in? And if they’re going to subdivide by race or ethnicity, why not African American or Latin? Or Greek. But I digress. Then there’s the claim that all ads are verified, that ALL advertisers are required to meet with them in person. There’s a few girls on there I can’t get to meet with me for cash, but they’re going to head down to the That Mall offices? Oh, and where is the That Mall office anyway? Their phone numbers are 323 area codes, so, they’re in Los Angeles. But they have escort ads for Chicago, Texas, Atlanta and Hawaii. Did all those Chicago girls (or Asians) really come down to the Los Angeles office to meet with them in person? The thing that really cracks me up about That Mall is their banner advertising. I’m not kidding. I wonder how this dental office, with their picture of a smiling mom and baby feels about their ad banner being right above hooker ads? I guess it would make more sense if they were oral surgeons.

I guess we can’t discuss the topic of searching hooker ads without touching on the Craigslist story. Since Craigslist decided that cutting & running was the better part of valor, much has been said about their censorship of adult services ads. Yes, prostitution will go on. Yes, it’s still possible to get hooker ads online. Yes, it was a cowardly move by Craigslist and a brazen attempt to legislate morality, pander to the anti-sex puritans and restrict free speech under the guise of ‘protecting the children.’ Interestingly, many people in the escort/“hobbyist” community came rushing to the defense of the departed Craigslist Adult sections. Many of those people had long abandoned Craigslist as the bargain basement of hooker ads. I’ve made disparaging comments about “Craigslist girls.” Yes, I know that many of today’s $1,000 hotties were yesterday’s $100 Craigslist girls. But the fact remains that Craigslist had become, for the most part, the entry level of hookers. And thus, the place where cheap bastards looking for $60 dollar quickies went trolling. Not much has changed since the demise of Craigslist hooker ads when it comes to finding an escort. The ads have relocated to other venues. What has changed, of course, is that a girl who was barely scraping by on cheap quickie blowjobs now has to fork over more cash for her ads. Where she may have been spending $10, $15, $20 now she’s spending $30, $50, $300. Soon, she’ll either have to raise her rates just to cover her ad expenses or suck a boatload more dick.

Long before the Craigslist shutdown, though, cheap bastards already had a place to go. Hell, this place even has a private ‘club’ specifically for Cheap Bastards. They like to pretend that it’s a ‘social networking’ site, that they just happen to have classified ads, and sure 9.5 out of 10 of those classified ads are for hookers. But really, they’re just a community. They’re just there to exchange recipes and play Farmville. Or Hookerville. The ads there are free. Sure, you can buy “points” to use for things like priority placement, but essentially free. And they eschew all of the obnoxious Craigslist-esque trappings, the wild punctuation, the random capitalization, the barely disguised sexual innuendo. Sure, you can buy “points” to use for things like adding glitter and sparkle to your ad, but that’s tOtaLLy DiFFrenT. This is where the guys who think that $100 is way to much to spend for pussy have open and unapologetic run of the place. Can you find quality companionship there? Of course. Are there pages and pages and pages of misogynist bullshit? Of course. It’s their raison d’etre. Fortunately, you can go directly to the classified section and skip the commentary, you don’t even have to sign up to read the ads. There is one curious, comical idiosyncrasy there. Many of the providers advertising there specifically, explicitly claim that they will only see site members with verifiable references from other member providers and only those above a certain ‘trust’ level. For their safety, of course. Or, you could just look up their ad on Backpage. One positive aspect of the Broke Bastards  Board is that since they don’t allow comments on ads anymore, you don’t have to put up with slogging through 50 comments by detractors when you look at an ad.

Which of course brings us to the place where not only do they allow comments by detractors on an escort’s ad, they often actively encourage it. The Erotic Review has long been the place to go for escort ads, reviews and “hobby” discussions. The site has been around for years, and they like to think of themselves as the gold standard for escort reviews. Even after the guy running the place got sent to jail for trying to have a hooker killed, TER keeps on going. The guys currently running things haven’t (yet), to my knowledge, tried to have any hookers killed. Stalked, harassed, run out of business, sure. But not, probably not, raped or killed. Advertising on the site is free, although TER is a membership site and they do charge somewhere in the neighborhood of $20 a month for membership in order to have full access to all the site’s features. So, you can place your ad for free, but if you want to be able to look up a prospective client, look up another escort to check references or exchange messages with someone to determine their credibility, you’ll have to pony up $20 a month (recurring). All this allows you the privilege to post your ad once a week. It also allows every asswipe with an anonymous screen name and a grudge to trash you in your own ad. Piss someone off? They will make sure you know it. I’ve seen escorts place ads only to have them devolve into pages-long rants by angry hobbyists. Wonder why you place an ad and get absolutely no response? Maybe it’s because the 12 year old girls… errr… the moderators… have re-posted your ad in the Men Only Board, the better to trash you in private. I’ve seen it happen. Or maybe you wonder why your latest client’s review hasn’t shown up. It could be because the local moderator has a bug up his double-wide ass about you and has decided not to approve new reviews. And there is no recourse. It’s a dictatorship, and not a very benign one at that. The knock against TER used to be that the guy in charge abused his position to terrorize escorts, extort sexual favors and divulge personal information about them. Not much has changed, except the new guys actually go to the parties they host.

The good news is that after an exhaustive search, I did finally find someone to spend my spare few hundred dollars on (thanks Obama!). A good time was had by all, the economy was stimulated and so was I. I’m glad to report that I do apparently still have a huge cock. Good to know, good to know. It took some doing, lots of homework, lots of searching, but in the end it paid off. Finding paid pussy is still possible, but it’s not exactly easy.

And maybe it shouldn’t be.

In other news… strippers

What's with the strippers? Where's the hookers?

What? What’s this? Isn’t this a blog about fucking hookers? Yeah, I know, it’s supposed to be all about hookers. Hell, it even says “Hooker” right up there in the title, don’t it? Stick with me a bit. I think there’s a lot of crossover.

The picture of the lovely ladies at the left of this column is from a news article published over at FOXNews.com. On it’s face, it’s a slightly amusing bit of human-interest. Y’know, the sort of thing Fox News does so well. What? Stop rolling your eyes at me!

Bikini Clad Strippers Take on Church in Ohio. Who doesn’t like a good turning-the-tables-on-the-establishment kinda story? The background to the story is fairly straightforward. A fire & brimstone fundamentalist preacher has been targeting the local strip club, staging protests and pickets by church members against the sin in their midst. The club owner says he’s met privately with the minister, seeking some sort of truce, to no avail. As a last resort, the strippers use the holy-rollers’ own tactics against them and stage their own protest in front of the church, carrying signs with scripture verses.

So other than dueling demonstrations, what makes this story interesting?

Strippers dressed in bikinis sunbathe in lawn chairs, their backs turned toward the gray clapboard church where men in ties and women in full-length skirts flock to Sunday morning services.

The strippers, fueled by Cheetos and nicotine, are protesting a fundamental Christian church whose Bible-brandishing congregants have picketed the club where they work. The dancers roll up with signs carrying messages adapted from Scripture, such as “Do unto others as you would have done unto you,” to counter church members who for four years have photographed license plates of patrons and asked them if their mothers and wives know their whereabouts.

fueled by Cheetos and nicotine…

In other words, fat. Just a bunch of fat bimbos who sit around drinking and smoking when they’re not being nasty whores who take off their clothes to tempt the otherwise good, God-fearing men of central Ohio. I know, I’m extrapolating, but I think it’s warranted. Why else would that particular turn of phrase be there? What does “fueled by Cheetos and nicotine” have to do with the story of the counter-protest? What does it add to the factual reporting? But it sure does paint a mental picture for the Fox News reader, doesn’t it? You can just picture those ugly fat strippers stuffing themselves with cheesy poofs and chain smoking. Which is in stark contrast to the description of the pious church goers, “men in ties and women in full-length skirts.” How virtuous.

But there’s more. As the ‘reporter’ so deftly points out to us, they’re old, too.

“…stage age 36 but really 42…”

And, of course, they lie about their age. Old, fat, chain-smoking liars. Someone who would lie, who would sell their morals for a few dollars, someone devoid of any socially redeeming qualities. But enough about Fox News…

I mentioned at the top that I thought there was some crossover from this story to the world of online escort message boards. When escorts on the boards are attacked by “hobbyists” (and they often are) it’s frequently, as in the case of these protesters, because they had the temerity to stand up for themselves, to defend themselves from those who hold themselves out to be morally superior. Whether it’s strippers in central Ohio, or hookers in L.A. these are sex workers. Sure, they’re of a different stripe, they work in related yet different arenas. But the constant remains, these are women who’s salable commodity is themselves. When your product, as it were, is you, every attack is a personal attack.
Go to any “hobbyist” message board, and you’ll likely see the same line of attack directed at some escort. She’s fat, she’s nasty, she’s got a big mouth. And the worst sin of all, she’s lying about her age.

The self righteous pastor of the church objecting to the local strip club is a classic hobbyist. He’s morally superior, he has the authority of his position on his side. Hell, his church isn’t even in the same neighborhood as the strip club, it’s miles away, yet he feels it’s his duty to give his unsolicited opinion about right & wrong. He’s been called by God Himself to destroy the livelihoods of these women, to conquer the sin of making a living. Personally of course, I wonder why God would task him with closing a ramshackle strip club instead of putting an end to hunger or war or disease. Instead he’s determined to eradicate the sin of… women being able to support themselves and feed their families.
But if the pastor is an archetypal “hobbyist”, the Fox “News” reporter almost certainly is an active participant. He knows the buttons to push. He knows exactly how to lash out to belittle and dehumanize these sex workers. He knows to go after their self esteem, their sense of self worth. He’s called a hooker a fat old whore on some message board somewhere.

It’s little wonder then, that message board warriors feel emboldened, feel that it’s acceptable to treat human beings as, well… less than. This is the message that’s being reinforced in the mainstream news media. It’s less surprising when one considers that the average message board “hobbyist” is a Fox News viewer. So when a ‘reporter’ uses cleverly crafted catchphrases, they can easily hear the dog whistle.

Afternoon delight

Rawrrrrr...!

I met her, as these things so often happen, in an online forum. One of those I now regularly denigrate as dens of stupidity, misogyny and stupidity.

She was one of the first who caught my attention shortly after I joined my local “He-Man Hooker Haters Club” message board. I hadn’t set out specifically looking for her, or indeed someone much like her. I now think that’s largely because I didn’t know someone like her existed. And if she did exist, it never occurred to me that I’d find her on a hooker forum. I was looking for the typical. The usual. The no entanglement, no conversation, no expectations kinda girl.
But, I found her instead.
She was one of the first to welcome me to the board and take an interest in what I had to say. To this day, I don’t really know what it was about me that drew her to me. I have no doubts at all about what drew me in to her.
She was (and still is) hot, shapely, nasty and classy. Those long legs, that long hair, those massive magical tits. She had curves where women are supposed to have curves. She had brains where most men lack. And really, who doesn’t like a redhead?
We spent hours, days, weeks, months chatting online. We talked about art, history, literature, politics, music. And sex. We bonded over our mutual interests. I try to play things close to the vest. I try not to reveal too much of my real persona online. As I’ve said before, I think that way lies ruination. But surely, I can’t be the only whoremonger with an interest in obscure German punk rock from the 70’s. I’m not the only john who likes Warhol & Kandinsky, William Burroughs & Edgar Burroughs, Ogilvy & Mather.

But, she had stringent screening requirements. She is, after all, a professional. Part of her requirements for accepting new clients was having references from two other providers. At the time, though I’d done a fair bit of whore-fucking, it was girls whose names I barely knew, much less knew how to get in touch with again to ask for a reference.
So I set out to meet the requirements. I searched the boards for escorts with less stringent requirements. I found that even among the members of the small ‘community’ not everyone was willing to give a referral. Some providers preferred to keep their client list to themselves. So, I fucked a bunch of hookers. Oh well.
I fucked all different shapes and sizes, ages and ethnicities, GFE’s and quickies. Always with an eye on the goal, the right references that would get me in to see the creme de la creme.
We missed connections a few times. Once, she advertised an incall special in my neck of the woods, but by the time I responded, she had already booked up. If my schedule opened up, hers filled out, if she was available, I couldn’t get away from work or family.
And so it went, until she finally said “enough!”
She had arranged for a week of incalls at a ritzy downtown hotel. She insisted I come see her.
“I’m not sure I can get away, it’s the holidays, I have family coming in from out of town…”
She insisted.
“I don’t know if I can get away from work…”
She persisted.
“I don’t…” “DO IT!”
I relented.

So there I was, the day before Thanksgiving, when I should’ve been on my way to the airport to pick up arriving family, instead I was knocking on the door of a very upscale hotel suite.

She took my breath away, she was everything I’d imagined. And more. Much, much more. Even though we’d chatted online for months, even though I had seen dozens of pictures of her; racy pictures, naughty pictures, pictures of her boobs. I had never seen her face until she opened that door.

Really?

What's she trying to hide? How can I tell if I want to fuck her?

Let me just say, as an aside, that there are many escorts who choose not to show their faces in their online photos. It’s often a point of serious contention among “hobbyists.” Some guys refuse to make an appointment with a girl unless they’ve seen a picture of her face. I’ve never been in that camp. They seem to think that the only reason a girl would obscure her face is if she’s lying about something, most likely because she’s ugly.
“What’s she trying to hide?”
Really? Really??
How about she may be trying to hide her job as a hooker from her friends, her family, her clergy, her boss? Maybe she’s trying to hide her illegal activities from a mortgage loan officer. Or a police vice officer. Ya think?
The overwhelming attitude is, she must be ugly if she needs to hide her face. I have never, not once, not ever found that to be the case.
But maybe I just have different standards, or, y’know… standards. I think if you’ve done your homework, you’ve looked at her pictures, her tits her ass her legs… whatever your particular fascination may be; you’ve checked out her reviews and know what her level of service is, what other clients have to say about her, what other escorts have to say about her, you’ve spent hour after hour chatting her up online, in forums, private messages and emails… then you know what you’re getting into. I can’t imagine a situation like that where the girl would turn out to be so physically, emotionally, spiritually beautiful to you and yet you’d turn her her away because her face wasn’t up to your exacting standards. But then again, I like women. I don’t tend to think of them as ugly.

Anyway…

… where was I?

Oh yes. Knocking on that door. She, of course, was beautiful. I had expected no less, could not have hoped for more. With that first hug, first kiss at the door, we were old friends, new lovers. We bounced off every horizontal surface of that hotel room, and a few vertical ones. We laughed, we talked, we fucked. And fucked. And fucked. A one hour appointment stretched into two, and the second hour was giving way to the third when I had to reluctantly disentangle myself and return to my real world life. Saying goodbye at the door, she tried everything she could to get me to stay.

I’ve seen her often, time and time again, repeatedly since then. I’ve spent hours fucking her in hotels all over the city. I’ve left her ass print on windows overlooking all of downtown.

These are the thoughts that flooded back to me in an instant of time the other day, as we again spent an afternoon in bed, our limbs entwined in that now familiar, yet still exciting tangle. She has her personal life, her home, her family. And I have mine. Yet, there we were, another sweaty afternoon, another hour stretching into two.

Love? Who said anything about love? Not me.

I’m much too smart to fall in love with a hooker. Aren’t I?

Hello, my name is Hooker Addict…

Really? You made her cum doing her doggy-style? GFE?

…and I’m, well, a hooker addict.
Well, no, not really an addict. I can quit fucking hookers anytime I want. I just do it to relieve stress. I’m just a social hooker fucker. Sure, I mostly do it in private, sure I hide it from my friends and family, sure I can never stick to ‘just one more strange pussy.’ But that doesn’t mean I have a problem.

Look, lots of guys get caught up into the whole “hobbyist” thang. Then they find themselves seeking more and more satisfaction. One hooker is never enough. Is it an addiction? I dunno, I’m just  a guy who likes to fuck hookers.

There are certainly a lot of elements of the whole “hobbyist” milieu that lend themselves to the addictive personality. I can see where it would be easy to fall into that trap. Easily accessible pussy, even if it’s paid-for pussy, has an undeniable appeal. Add to that the virtual affirmations you get from your fellow whoremongers, and it’s a slippery slope to a downward spiral. Or something.

Not too long ago, I wrote about the pack mentality prevalent among the “hobbyist” message boards. And I should know, I’m one of them. I wrapped up that commentary with a suggestion that some of my fellow whore fucking addicts may want to re-visit Step 9, a reference, of course, to the classic 12-Step programs. Meh. I write a lot of crap.

Special Delivery

Fan mail

I love getting comments from my readers, it lets me know what all y’all out there are thinking. You don’t always  agree with me, and that’s fine. You’re wrong, but that’s OK. Most comments I approve, some are clearly spam, and some are direct attacks that just go right into the trash. Generally, I welcome all comments from my readers. And even if I disagree, I’m usually amused, enlightened or entertained. Hell, I have one crazy-ass Bitch who hits my blog on a fairly regular basis to make wild hysterical comments. I’ve approved all of those. Then… then, there’s shit like this:

I opened up the big HookerAddict mailbag one day to find this waiting for me from some disgruntled fan calling himself  “Ball Smack” from Kansas, writing from what has every appearance of being a bogus e-mail address. My new correspondent Ballie takes personal exception to my attempts to denigrate the wonderful work being done by AA. Smackeroo writes:

“Wow. I shouldn’t reply to this thread, but I have to. I guess. Stop hating on everybody and go eat a vag or suck a dick or whatever your preference may be. No one cares. Your Bill Dubya campaign isn’t fooling anyone and twits like you will continue to ruin what he was striving for.

Please stop trying to ruin his mission because you feel let down.”

I.. well.. I don’t…

Step it up

Where to start, where to start.

“I shouldn’t reply to this thread. But I have to…” Isn’t that a bit like “I shouldn’t chug this Wild Turkey. But I guess I have to.”? You don’t have to. Free will and all that.

“Stop hating on everybody and go eat a vag or suck a dick…” May I direct you to Step 4: Made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves and Step 7: Humbly asked god to remove our shortcomings

I am not now, nor have I ever been a member or participant in any 12-Step recovery program. And I don’t feel let down. For the record, I don’t believe in them. I think they’re bullshit. I’m sure someone in the vastness of the Internets will pipe in with stories of how being a Friend of Bill W saved their lives, and I’m certain there are abundant success stories out there.  I know a lot of “hobbyists” who are, as well as friends and co-workers who are “Friends of Bill.” I still think it’s bullshit. Because I think that the core of the program is to exchange one addiction for another. You give up your addictions to booze, dope, gambling or pussy and replace them with addictions to god, meetings, validation and bad coffee.

If you’re a so-called “hobbyist” in so-called recovery, fucking act like you believe in your platitudes. Instead of blaming those dirty whores for your failings, think about humbly asking your god to remove your shortcomings. Instead of lashing out at hookers (or bloggers) maybe it’s time to once again make a searching and fearless moral inventory of yourselves. And, having slipped from the path and hidden behind your cloak of Internet anonymity to bash, berate, degrade and vilify those hookers whom you’ve picked as targets for your vitriol, may I once again suggest you revisit Step 9.

P.S. I’ve approved “Ball Smack’s” comment.

In among the wolves.

Keeping an eye on you.

As most of you who have blogs or websites know, we can see where the clicks to our sites are coming from.There are stat trackers galore and even the most basic blogging package has a hit counter of some sort. For example, I can see what websites I’m being linked to, I can see what web search terms people are using to stumble upon my little corner of the web.

Yeah, I can see that the most common search term used to direct traffic to the ol’ Hooker Addict is tied in to an essay I wrote some 5-6 months ago. For some reason, the topic refuses to die. I can see that I’m still getting traffic from a comment I posted on another blog months ago. And I guess I should be flattered that people searching for “huge cock” are being directed to me.

And I can see when you guys are talking about me on your message boards.

Because I’m one of you.

That’s right guys. I’m on your message boards, I’m in your private clubs, I’m on the ‘men only’ boards.

I wrote not too long ago about the social horror of the Hooker/Hobbyist Meet & Greet. Social awkwardness coupled with a sense of entitlement is a bad combination. A certain local message/review board linked to my blog on a thread about meet & greets. I could see every time someone clicked that link in that thread. But I didn’t need a stat tracker to tell me I’d been linked. I could read it myself.

And then you guys kicked it up a notch. You moved the discussion to the private men only board. Here, as you so often do, you used the cloak of internet invisibility, not to look inward but to lash out. But you didn’t lash out at me, did you?

I’m watching you. I know all you guys. I’ve partied with you. Hell, I may (or may not) have commented on that thread.

You wonder why I don’t like “hobbyists”? It’s because of that behavior. The venue brings out the worst in you. Some of you I have personally liked, I’ve had drinks with you, or maybe I just had a drink while you drank club soda. But based on your behavior behind closed Internet doors, maybe it’s time you start working the steps again. Maybe make a searching and fearless moral inventory of yourselves again.

What are you saying? Your jacket doesn’t fit right with that knife in your back? Malcontent? Off your meds? What an amusing bon mot, joking about how a certain hooker actually likes being groped! Of course, she also likes doing bareback gangbangs, but you forgot to mention that part.

I’ll keep watching you, I’ll keep writing about you. And I’ll keep waiting for you to revisit Step 9.

There’s always a woman to blame.

Some people claim there's always a woman to blame

It’s not news (no, really, it isn’t), some high profile celebrity gets caught cheating on his high profile celebrity wife. Whether it’s an athlete, an actor or a famous mechanic (really? WTF? What’s next, celebrity grocery baggers?), we’re all drawn in to the tawdry drama. In the wake of the recent revelations of general horndoggery by Jesse James and the seemingly never-ending Tiger Woods Apology Tour, one thing is constant: those dirty, nasty, skanky whores who led them astray.

For example, in a recent online discussion of the James/Bullock story, with multiple alleged mistresses starting to come out of the woodwork, there was a comment made that Sandra Bullock should get herself tested for STDs. Good advice, to be sure, but the rationale was that the concern was because of the low class tattooed stripper porn stars Jesse was fucking were sure to be disease ridden whores. Whoa! Wait a minute, he’s the one going from one partner to another (to another and another and another), he’s the indiscriminate fucker here. But the women are the ones to blame if his dick falls off. The clowder of pussy surrounding Tiger is almost always portrayed as gold digging sluts… even if they were just waitresses in love. Noted relationship authority Dr. Jim Carrey, fresh off the news that his own relationship was on the rocks, chose to support Tiger by lashing out at Tiger’s wife. On his Twitter, Carrey posted:

“no wife is blind enough to miss that much infidelity. Elin had to be a willing participant on the ride for whatever reason. kids/lifestyle.”

Tiger goes back to his million dollar home, his million dollar wife and his million dollar job, and his wife, girlfriends and mistresses get thrown under the bus.

When it comes to “hobbyists”, there’s no fuck up that can’t be blamed on a hooker. Can’t get it up? That bitch was too ugly. Too broke to fuck? Those bitches charge too much. It’s not that you’re too short, that bitch was too tall. When hobbyists start talking about the reasons why they fuck hookers (and they always do), nine times out of ten it’s because the wife won’t put out anymore. See? They wouldn’t have to fuck hookers if the wife would just give it up more. It’s her fault he has to pay for pussy.

Last week I saw a post on the BrokeBastardsBoard titled simply “Bitch.” Simple facts, guy makes last minute appointment with escort, she’s a few minutes late, calls to ask if he wants to proceed or reschedule. Yeah, egregious. Seriously, he called her at 8:45. To make an appointment for 9:30. At 9:45, she calls him to say she got held up a bit, does he still want to get together or make it for some other time. And that makes her a bitch. A bitch that deserves being called out on a message board because she wasted his time and ruined his night. Dude, if your window of opportunity is so narrow that 15 minutes is a make-or-break, you probably shouldn’t be stepping out to see hookers at the last minute. Maybe plan ahead a bit. Your inability to plan doesn’t make her a bitch. “Hobbyists” are rarely if ever wrong. If a hooker says something you disagree with, you can round up all your message board warriors and start a thread calling her a bitch. After all, whatever stupid thing you said, whatever boneheaded move you made, whatever your shortcomings, there’s no problem too big (or too small) it can’t be blamed on a ho.

There’s a heavy weighting among the hobbyist class towards the Party of Personal Responsibility™. Which makes it all the more ironic that they don’t seem to be able to actually, y’know, accept personal responsibility. The boards afford them an opportunity to indulge in their favorite pastime. Cuz all they wanna do is bitch.

“You will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy. We must be cautious.”

430 Reviews / 18 White List referrals

You walk into a dimly lit bar, not quite knowing what awaits you inside. What manner of creatures have been coaxed out from their lairs. Sure, you’ve lived on this planet all your life, you’ve seen some strange things, but nothing can prepare you for the motley collection of losers, freaks and bad skin.

The Hobby Party. The Meet & Greet. The Pinch & Grope.

If this is your first time attending a Meet & Greet, you may be unprepared for the array of socially awkward  misfits and wannabe pimps. Sure, if you’re an escort you’ve encountered these types on an almost daily basis, but it’s different when they’re all gathered in one place. Sometimes it’s not enough to flirt with hookers online. Sometimes you need to get up close and personal for all your inappropriate comments and inartful leering.

Just about a coupla weeks ago, I went to another “hobby” party. They pop up from time to time. It gives the party organizers an opportunity to present themselves as big movers n’ shakers in the world of whoring. I swear, these guys who put together these meet & greets see themselves as erudite bon vivants. In their minds, they’re not in a some bar surrounded by a bunch of hookers and johns handing out name tags and free drink coupons. They see themselves as the ultimate high society host.

The parties, whether its a cocktail hour or a luncheon, are often in some slightly seedy, slightly cheesy bar or Mexican restaurant. Sometimes a hotel meeting room, sometimes that local downtown broker’s watering hole. This particular one was part of the recent trend towards more ‘upscale’ doings. A trendy joint in a trendy part of town. Unfortunately, it was also in a part of town known for its gang activity. A lot of the hobbyists attending were a bit taken aback by all the police cars cruising the neighborhood. Specially in light of recent sting operations in other towns where cops have infiltrated a meet & greet. To try to counter that, the organizers have started instituting a cover charge for the guys. I guess they figure if you’re a cop you’re not gonna shell out $40 to join the party. Sure, that’ll work.

If you’ve spent any time at all on the escort discussion boards, you know that there’s a serious lack of tact and discretion and critical thinking skills. When you meet these guys in person you realize that they also have a sever lack of social skills. of course, that really shouldn’t come as much of a surprise. If these guys had skills, they wouldn’t be hobbyists. Oh, they might still be paying to fuck hookers. But they wouldn’t be “hobbyists.”

When I arrived at Mos Eisley,I decide to skip the valet parking (I’m pretty sure a lot of other guys did, too. A $40 door charge plus valet starts getting steep) so I park across the street at the grocery store. I pay my cover charge ($40!) and take a pass on the table with the name tags. Look, I ain’t wearing a name tag. Besides, I use a different handle on each of the several boards I belong to, so it’s either no tag or… well, my chest isn’t big enough for all those names.

Inside the dimly lit bar, the party is in full swing. That is to say, There’s a bunch of loud, inappropriately dressed gals circulating and a bunch of shy, awkward, overweight dudes in khakis sitting around like the chess club at the prom. True story: I once saw a guy at one of these parties, a guy who was a constant presence on the discussion boards, who would take every opportunity to comment on every single goddam topic of discussion and always–always–act like he’s the smartest guy in the room. This guy, in real life was so socially inept, that the girl he was with had to treat him like a 5 year old, showing him how to put things in his pocket so he’d have both hands free to hold his drink, wiping shrimp cocktail sauce off his chin. Had she not decided on a career in escorting, she could have been a kindergarten teacher.

Then there’s the other subset,the guys who are too cool for the room. The guy who makes sure everyone sees him drive up in his custom hot rod, or the guy years past his prime who makes a point of showing up fashionably late so everyone can see him arm in arm with the high-dollar gal. The guy who finds a strategically placed table and proceeds to hold court like Jabba the Hutt.

Being a gentleman is apparently unheard of. I guess most guys figure that having paid a hefty $40 door charge just to get in, they don’t need to be a gentleman and buy a drink for a lady. They don’t even need to be polite and have an actual conversation with an actual flesh and blood woman. And every girl there is there just for his amusement. Every girl is there to get felt up by sweaty guys in Hawaiian shirts and Dockers.

When I first got involved with the whole hobby culture, the meet n’ greets were a low key affair. Usually, one of the board bigwigs would get everyone together in the meeting room of some airport Ramada or some such. The thinking was that a “business lunch” would be an easy sell, a plausible excuse for the married guys to get away in the middle of the day. I thought it was a bit funny, naive and in its own way kinda charming that attendees were told to dress in business casual attire and tell anyone who asked that they were members of an Internet based business networking group. That thin veneer of respectability would be shattered as soon as the first girl showed up wearing something more appropriate for the bedroom than the boardroom. So a bunch of guys dressed like traveling plumbing salesmen gathered in a hotel with a bunch of hookers dressed like… well, hookers. Yep. Nothing suspicious there.

Now, the meet and/or greet is more likely to be an evening shindig. The casual hobbyist finds it harder to come up with an excuse to be out for the night. But the scantily clad girls draw less attention.

The message boards are an often anonymous way for hookers and johns to interact, and too often that anonymity is taken as a license for some nasty, ugly behavior. So you would think that when they step out from behind the keyboard and actually come face to face with those real people behind the screen names that there would be more civility. Well, you would think that if you’d never met a hobbyist.

Oh, and Han shot first.