November 7: The once and future O queen

My vow to publish these daily blog posts before 3:00 am was, of course, an excellent idea ..... but I have lots of excellent intentions, like that I'll get the oil changed in my van this week before the coupon for the free tire rotation runs out, or that I'm going to put all my shit in storage and travel the country in an RV, or that I'll lose 20 pounds by Thanksgiving.

Good intentions don't mean shit if the clock says 4:41 and the deadline was 3:00. After such a monstrous fail the only solution is to pour a bowl of Lay's classic potato chips, grab a handful of dark chocolate M&Ms and write a mid-week ramble about drug dealers and onstage orgasms.

First, the drug dealer three houses down isn't Snoop Dogg after all. His name is Andre. (There should probably be a little tilde over the "e" in his name, but I don't know how to do that in Blogger and I really don't fucking care, because I still call him Snoop Dogg. It's not as if we've ever been introduced.) In case you missed it, he entertained our local SWAT team late Monday afternoon. Catch up here if you need to; otherwise this won't mean shit to you.

Anyway, I walked down to the Greek Orthodox Church to vote yesterday, and when I got home about noon Melvin was sitting on his porch waiting for his friend Ricky to bring him a pint of gin and juice. As I walked up the sidewalk he serenaded me, "Pretty woman, walking down the street .... gonna be my woman someday ..... Baby, you look too fine to be walking down that street alone."

Blah blah blah. The man could go on for hours. I asked him if he knew anything more about Snoop Dogg getting busted, and for once I knew something he didn't. He hadn't even heard about the SWAT team coming and taking Snoopy away.

But he did tell me the guy who bought the drug dealer's house for $3000 sent another guy out to mow the lawn, and that's the first time he knew he has a tenant in the house. He thought it was vacant.

There are lots of vacant houses in this neighborhood. I think it would be easy to move into one of them and take the risk of living there. It might be years before anybody noticed, and in the meantime you could deal drugs or give piano lessons or open up a bed and breakfast and not pay a cent toward a mortgage.

The one, true Huggy Bear

Anyway, Snoop Dogg got out of jail the next day. We expect he'll be evicted soon. Who knows? Maybe he'll move into one of the vacant houses the next block over. I doubt he'll go far from his customer base.

Oh, and Elvira informed me that Snoop Dogg played Huggy Bear in the Starsky and Hutch movie, so when I said the drug dealer looked like both Snoop Dogg and Huggy Bear..... Yeah,  I knew what I meant, but the photo I posted of Huggy Bear was actually Snoop Dogg playing Huggy Bear. I asked her if there wasn't at least some irony in there somewhere.  She said I just needed to post a photo of the real Huggy Bear, so here it is.

Hmmmmm. He may look less like the drug dealer down the street than I remembered.
*******

Speaking of the 70's, tonight was the annual Rocky Horror Picture Show play and sing-along at a local Catholic university. Last year I was a virgin, and I impressed the crowd with my onstage orgasm. (A video was on Facebook before I got home. You can read about it and see hear the video here.)

Tonight I went in and the young women who were taking money and putting red lipstick V's on the virgins' foreheads remembered me. They said, "Oh, you're the one who did that great orgasm on stage last year." Yes, that would be me. Call me Cookie Master.

So this year again they randomly chose three men and three women -- all Rocky virgins -- to go up on the stage and made them give their best orgasms into the mic.

Yawn. No offense, but I don't think any of them had ever had a real cookie before. I'd ask what the fuck is wrong with young people these days, but one guy was about my age.

Yet in the men's defense, what does a good male orgasm sound like? They're so quick and explosive. Would anybody have remembered if it had been Harry faking an orgasm in that restaurant instead of Sally? Probably not.

No, men aren't really sexy cummers cumers comers. If the Rocky Horror virgins are any indication, most men just shout a swear word, usually shit or damn, or give a loud grunt.

I would have expected the "shit" to come from his partner as he comes, but that's probably just something she says under her breath.

Ba da bum.

Nevertheless, the crowd chose a winner, and she looked relieved that it was over. And then the master of ceremonies said he'd heard the reigning O champ was in the audience ready to defend her title, and the poor girl would have to compete in an O-off with said champ.

Ooops. That would be me. I handed off my coat, purse and drink and up on stage I went. 

I have to wonder if the deafening applause when I stepped up there was because I looked like I could be the mother of 95% of the people in the room. Not that anybody wants to hear his or her mom fake an orgasm into a microphone on stage in front of a couple hundred people.

She went first, probably because the master of ceremonies knew she'd back out if I did. She did the same orgasm that won her the virgin round. Something like "uh...uh...uh" and then one last disappointed "oh." She was so cute.

As the audience clapped politely I whispered to her, "I'm sorry that's been your experience. It doesn't have to be like that."

And then I gave them an orgasm. A long, juicy, start-soft-and-build-to-an-uncontrollable-climax orgasm. And as for you, Sally .... bitch, watch and learn.

For one more year, I am the reigning onstage orgasm champion of the Rocky Horror Picture Show.

I wonder if they could have this made into a trophy.