23 September, 2007
07 September, 2007
“Who was that you were on the phone with for the past 45 minutes?”
“Johnno, He just got back from Warrnambool.”
“Well, did you find out details of what went on when he was working at Crystal T’s in the mid-80s?”
“Yep. He filled in a few gaps. But he left a few too…”
Johnno is a lifelong mate who had a couple of itinerant years back then. He just picked up work wherever he could, usually through mates.
One particular mate got him a job at Crystal T’s, a legendary strip-joint in Brunswick. Crystal T’s was famous for its hen’s nights. Johnno was initially in charge of catching the stripper’s garments when they were thrown into the crowd. Caught in the midst of a few mad scrambles from the girls trying to collect a souvenir, he reckons it gave him a better appreciation of the type of pressure rugby players are under during a scrum. After proving himself in this highly specialized task, Johnno was then head-hunted into the role of making sure the manually operated spotlight found its mark.
“Well, it was pretty hot stuff,” he told me. “There was one time when we were on the road, at the Traralgon or Morwell Town Hall, the chicks had to walk past where I was standing operating the spotlight to get to the toilet. Quite a few of them squeezed my bum. On the way there and back.”
“Alright. That’s pretty good. But weren’t there times when chicks were randomly sucking blokes off in the toilets, or flashing their tits at the strippers?”
“Oh, not really. Sometimes the strippers used to take excited girls back into the dressing rooms. But I never saw any of that.”
“Hm. So what happened that was, you know, hot?”
“Well, once there were these girls hanging around post-show and I ended up taking one back to my place, but that was about it.”
“You had sex though.”
“Yeah, but look, there were no Bacchanalian orgy scenes at Crystal T’s or anything.”
“Shit. I sort of promised I’d be writing this up on my blog and so far, it’s just not really as exciting as I hinted it might be. My blog’s going to suffer some credibility issues if it’s not salacious enough.”
“Well, just make up some bullshit then. You ought to be okay at that from job interviews. Gild the fucking lily. Look, I suppose there were some fairly striking things about it though. For example, female crowds were a lot different from when the blokes were in.”
“Um, the women seemed to be there for a good time and to have a few laughs. They’d be cacking themselves at the strippers’ antics and at each other. Really getting into the fun side of things. Whereas the blokes would be much more serious. Really aroused and loud about it. Almost out of control, some of them. The hens’ nights were much better to work at because the women were pretty well-behaved really. The blokes would be a bit too much.”
“But there was a hierarchy there too. The strippers were like rock stars and we were the road crew. No self-respecting chick is going to be throwing herself at the road crew for chrissakes. And the female strippers would only have casual sex with male strippers. And they didn’t talk to us or acknowledge us very much at all.”
“Fuck. I’ve sort of indicated that there were some pretty raunchy goings on. And that’s all that happened?”
“Sorry, mate. Look, why don’t you write about all the times gay men have come onto you because they think you’re gay. And how you reckon you don’t send out signals. We’ve had a few lost-bladder-control cackfests reminiscing about that. Surely that’d be okay for a post.”
“Fucking shut up. I don’t need you to suggest blog subjects for me. Jesus, you worked in a strip joint and didn’t fucking see anything. And I don’t send out signals. There was just that one time in San Francisco in the mid-80’s when I had a moustache and happened to be wearing a turtle-necked sweater. That’s not sending out signals.”
“No, of course not. Sorry mate. One thing though. I can remember seeing a bloke in a suit, straight fair hair, glasses. Bit of a Pointdexter. A Mr Peabody lookalike. He might have been a bit younger then but, you don’t think it could have been….”
04 September, 2007
There, that should get me some interesting google traffic.
All of the above synonyms for an erection were obtained thanks to our good friends at thesaurus.com, plus some prior knowledge on my part.
I first used viagra, the commercial name of slidenafil citrate, in June 2005 and have used it once more since, in June this year.
Now, let’s get some alpha male disclaimers out of the way first: I’m no softcock. I get wood. But just once in a blue moon, I come up short. Not often. Not over long periods, but it has happened. In a please-allow-for-shrinkage kind of way. The spirit has been willing but the flesh has been, well, weak. How many times? I can’t remember exactly but we both know that I would crack under cross-examination if it came down to it.
Let’s just say, about as frequently as the Rolling Stones have toured Australia. Four. And you could probably throw in Mick Jagger’s two solo tours as well to get nearer the number. Okay let’s say six.
So it wasn’t a matter of me needing desperately to use viagra, but rather a case of curiosity to find out what it might actually do. You’ve read the spam, heard the gags, now pop the pills.
It first happened when I was off work and on WorkCover. I’d been copping some fairly sustained workplace bullying from my two superiors where I was working at the time. Really nasty, what-fucking-planet-are-you-on bullshit. All related to my membership of and commitment to a union. You know there’s going to be a post on this. But the Reader’s Digest condensed version is that I felt under threat and shithouse and went on sick leave. The WorkCover claim was accepted without going to conciliation because it was such an open-and-shut-case of deliberate and systematic employee harassment.
While I was at home, I felt pretty fragile but not depressed, because I hadn’t done anything wrong. The GP offered to prescribe anti-depressants but I said no thanks, worried they might affect my capacity to have the odd choof. But then I got an idea. Why not ask for a viagra prescription? Our wedding anniversary was coming up and TLOML and I had booked ourselves into a plush hotel on Queens Rd for the weekend.
So I told the GP I’d had some performance issues. If anything, the opposite was true. Stress had seemed to increase both desire and performance. I was chasing TLOML around the house.
And so on the spur of the moment, just to see what would happen, I lied to my GP to get a viagra prescription. For scientific purposes, you understand. $74 lighter in the wallet I arrived home in possession of four diamond-shaped, pale blue tablets.
The GP had advised taking half a tab. Fuck that. I wanted the full effect. He also told me that I might feel hot flushes, headaches, and even possibly a little light headedness of the almost-fainting variety as side effects.
But I didn’t want TLOML to know that I was going to be performance-enhanced. Half of this was for reasons of scientific validity. The rest was fear she might be upset with me for not consulting her.
The big weekend arrived and mid-afternoon we checked into our suite six floors up with views over Albert Park. I went into the bathroom and took a tablet. Then smoked a joint while we drank complimentary champagne. The itinerary, typical anniversary fare, was quickly agreed on: some champagne and relaxation in the suite; upstairs to the spa and sauna; back to the suite for sex; more champagne; dinner in the downstairs restaurant; back to the suite for sex; sleep; sex on awakening; breakfast and then home.
It was going to take about half an hour for the viagra to kick in. At around the twenty minute mark, I lowered myself into the spa and immediately felt a pleasant warm flush all over. Then, what with the warmth and the bubbles and TLOML sitting opposite me with those big beautiful eyes in full bedroom mode, I was suddenly given the impression that I had the Washington Monument inside my boardshorts.
Luckily, we were alone in the spa so I stood up to give TLOML a quick peek at the bulge. I sat down quickly when the thought jumped into my head that there might be some CCTV for security and safety. We didn’t stay in the spa for long, just in case some other guests arrived and I couldn’t get out without giving anyone an eyeful.
The rest of our stay panned out exactly as described above. It was a very enthusiastic celebration of our wedding anniversary. And events matched the occasion too.
Anyway, here are some notes for usage, in no particular order:
1) Viagra is available by prescription only;
2) Viagra is ideal for recreational use. You get certainty;
3) The only side effect I experienced was the warm flushing, but that was not entirely unpleasant;
4) Viagra doesn’t give you an erection. You have to be aroused. But the erection you get is the real McCoy;
5) Viagra allows erections to be maintained and re-activated;
6) Viagra is supposed to have aphrodisiac properties. This is debatable. You’re already aroused and you’ve got a raging stiffy. That’s only going to intensify your libidinous urges. I’d be more inclined to ascribe a catalytic effect on sex-drive to viagra due to the enhanced erection it generates. Oh, I also experienced a feeling of increased energy during the actual fucking. Lil’ ol’ piston rod me;
7) You don’t get bigger. Sorry folks. But it does allow you to reach your full potential;
8) Half a tab is plenty. That should give you eight encounters per prescription. They’re pretty difficult to cut as the white interior is a bit crumbly once you’re through the smooth, pale-blue coating. I used pliers and a vice to snap the tabs in half. This needs to be handled very delicately. It didn’t break cleanly, but I didn’t lose any either;
9) There appears to be a fairly pronounced inhibiting effect on ejaculation. But you’ll have no trouble putting in the time and effort. This can be a good thing (long intercourse); and a bad thing (ahem, wear and tear). You would do well to keep a suitable lubricant handy;
During that stay at the hotel, I took one tablet in the afternoon as described above and one more in the evening after dinner. One for each session on the first day. But not in the morning after we awoke dreamily. Nope, no viagra required there.