» My sex misconceptions

"I bought your SNES by being pounded in the ass, son."
Apologies for length in advance.

I was 13 and living in a block of flats. At that age, I was the first to own a Mega Drive and our house had pirate cable, so my 11-year-old friends in surrounding flats would always come by and visit. One night, my mum says she's going out and suggests my friends stay for the night. My friends came over and as it got late, flicked through the pirate cable and found the porn channel. Partially because I didn't want to objectify women - at that age, anyhow - and partially because I thought a bunch of boys in the same room finding the same thing arousing was a bit gay, I hid in the kitchen and heated up some pizza. What I didn't see I definitely heard as the boys turned the volume up.

There was a storyline for whatever was on - two ladies were reminiscing on how they took advantage of anyone who'd come round to their house and bother them when they were all horny and alone - first, a guy who's coming round to borrow milk, then someone who's coming round to fix the TV, they both get laid by women whose orgasms sound like air raid sirens.

Now, being the eldest, I was seen as the "wise old sage" of the group. I'm also proud to be a fucking jerk, as far as winding people up goes. I pointed out to the boys as I brought in the pizza that I didn't need to see the show. They laughed and asked why. I only had to bring up Kerry.

Kerry, aged 14, was the girl who lived opposite to our flat, with that girl next door beauty too - she was lusted over by every boy in the room, myself definitely included.

"She comes over all the time when you lot are here, wanting to borrow something," They all nodded, because they often saw her coming to my place to borrow things while they played the Mega Drive. "Why do you think it's always Kerry that comes over to ask and not her mum or dad?"

The television was muted. Jaws dropped. Pieces began to click.

As we ate pizza, I explained that the terms "borrow some milk" and "fixing your TV" were sex-slang. The former was said by some horny person wanting to get naked and play around with someone else, and the latter was a type of drive-by prostitute, who, at a moment's notice, would answer the call and fix libidos instead of TVs.

This affected two of my friends.

Friend #1 - Kerry goes to his flat for milk, and he's home alone - he can't believe his luck. He lets her in, and as they turn a corner, he makes his move - he shoves his tongue down her throat and squeezes her tits. She screams, slaps him and leaves. He told me as soon as he felt her reaction he knew I'd made it up, but he also said that at least he got one up on me because he'd "felt her tits and they were like big fluffy clouds". They definitely looked like it. Lucky bastard.

Friend #2 - I didn't know that the dad of one of these friends was going to become a TV repairman two weeks after the pizza night. For his dad's first week on the job, he came home to lots of weird questions. Imagine this dialogue:

Friend: "Are the ladies pretty, the ladies whose TVs you repair?"
Dad: "Sometimes, though I'm usually repairing TVs for men. They miss not having a working TV more than women, you know?"

That answer literally broke my friend's mind.

He had a little breakdown in front of all of us the next time he came round to my place. He wouldn't believe me when I told him I'd lied earlier, he thought I was trying to console him. I next saw him two months later. That night, he had gone home and taken a knife to his dad's van's tires. When asked why he did it, he explained to his parents he didn't want his dad sleeping around any more. Two months grounded for that.

My family and his never got on so well after that. He also tried to steal my friends after he got a Super Nintendo at Christmas, but they only time they were invited over, they poked fun at his console, bought with "your dad's prossie money".
(Tue 30th Sep 2008, 20:49, More)

» Celebrities part II

So Near, Yet So Far.
Sitting in the US Embassy in London, mid-2005, arrived as early as they open to get my visa, reading Danny Wallace's "Join Me" to pass the time, and quietly ranting to the other half about how I didn't like this book, and consequently didn't like Danny Wallace. I wanted to like it, but it just wasn't as entertaining as the books written by his friend, Dave Gorman.

I had a theory that Gorman's constant feeling like a fish out of water showed how little he was in control of the situation but his friendly nature found him friends, whereas Wallace's attempt was calculated and cold and he probably had a bit of an ego and wanted people to like him because he was naturally not as friendly, and even the parts that were unpredictable in Wallace's book still sounded, well, dull compared to the maverick decisions of Gorman and his accomplices. Wallace was a man trying to make up a farcical adventure for financial gain, because his friend had an entertaining adventure and therefore a story and therefore a book and eventually profit and he wanted in on that too.

Time passes and I see someone that looks famous sit down on the other side of the sea of sterile chairs. It can't be, can it? I feel uncomfortable possibly bothering him. However, the tannoy blared "Could a Mr. David Gorman please come back to Number 2, you have left your passport," and I knew it was him. He looked around, slightly miffed that his identity was shouted out, and harumphed himself back to the counter to grab his passport back. I waited a little while for him to sit back down, composed myself and went over to him.

"Hi, Dave. Thanks for your adventures, they gave me the drive to travel myself. And to look at other people with my name on Google."
"Oh! Hello! Thank you." He noticed the book, but still asked out of politeness, "What's that you've got there?"
"Oh, this?" I pouted, "I don't like it. Would it sound like a stalker if I said I wished I'd had your book on me so you could sign it?"
"Well, maybe, but let's see what I can do anyway." He ushered me to sit down and took the book from me and wrote an inscription anyway.

"To Danny Wallace, It is of the opinion of Mr. rzeki that I am better than you. Signed, Dave Gorman."

Gorman then told me that he had overheard my rant and was kind of disappointed in my opinion; that if I could hold him in high regard, then surely Gorman knew who good, friendly people were and would keep in close contact with them.

And with that, I realised I'd slagged off one of my favourite celebrity's best mates in earshot of said celebrity and his civilness and courtesy in lambasting me back made me look like even more of a prick.

On the other hand, I planned to write a book about getting ten celebrities in a row to read notes left for them in their books by other celebrities.

Length? I don't know, I didn't really feel compelled to finish.
(Sat 10th Oct 2009, 22:13, More)