Manhattan Offender

Ernie Anastos may not be a chicken-fucker, but he might be a blumpie-lover

So local anchor Ernie Anastos made an on-air slip.  While it probably won't be a Corey Craig dance mix like Sue Simmons' "What the fuck are you doing/Sorry" mash-up from last summer, Anastos' "keep on fucking that chicken" is memorable.

What's memorable to me about Anastos is a story heard five years ago or so.  A woman was working with my ex who had dated the Fox news anchor.  They're relationship didn't last long though because she said he was "perverted".  Prodded with drinks, eventually the full story came out:  She couldn't deal with giving Anastos his prefered form of oral sex, the blumpie.  (Click the link if you don't know what a blumpie is; the description doesn't suit my lunch consumption well.) 

In the clip, Anastos' chicken-fucking comment is followed by assertions of exercizing women "looking good", so there's definitely something sexual happening in the cerebellum there.   The image of him receiving a blumpie has always persisted in my mind though despite two huge mitigating factors:  The story came from my ex, who was not good with "truth", and the woman worked in real estate, also not know for sticking to the facts. 

Manhunt is now Manhunt.

It was a common rookie's error.  Wanting to see who was around for a little sumpin-sumpin, one would type in "manhunt.com" and instead of seeing men available for sexxing arranged by geographic proximity, one would receive the latest news of a southern gospel group (pictured via the Internet wayback machine).  The group held the domain name for years, forcing the sexual hookup version to stay in the realm of ".net" sites.

Sometime recently this status changed, and Manhunt was finally able to make an offer that the gospel group didn't refuse.  A quick email to their publicist confirms that sometime in July Manhunt.com was procured by Online Buddies, Inc.    (8/17/09:  SEE CORRECTION IN COMMENTS - BIGGEST ERROR EVER?)  What the publicist didn't answer was how much the gospel group was paid for the rights to the ".com" domain name.  As they had held out for years on apparently moral grounds, it can be guessed that the Great Recession might have opened their eyes to conceding some morality for some cold hard cash. 

Cash is something Manhunt apparently continues to have in abundance.  In addition to a site overhaul, and adding new products (a webcam site and amateur porn site), they're hiring!

Scenes from Family Week in Provincetown II

Scenes from Family Week in Provincetown

Street cruising alive and well in Jackson Heights

Following is a letter sent to friends in Jackson Heights after having dinner in their home last night:

Dear [redacted] and [redacted],

Thanks for the company for dinner last night.

I left your place and turned toward Trade Fair so I could stop by Citibank on the way home.  A guy caught my eye and I gave him a quick once over.  He didn’t look my way, but another guy (less attractive) noticed me noticing the other guy and started following me.  At the first corner I was able to cross the street with the light and I had thought him gone.  At the next corner he caught up to me.  

He was very country-bumpkin type Latino with very sweet eyes and smile, but not really attractive.  To nip it in the bud, I quickly told him that I didn’t live nearby and that I was on my home.  This confused him so we switched to Spanish for the rest of the conversation.  He then offered to walk me to the subway, to which I agreed.  By this point I was pretty amused.  

As we walked down the street, he attempted to rub my butt.  A lot.  There were no people behind us, but still I told him that his behavior was inappropriate.  I also told him that if he wanted my attention, he should rub me on the front side.  He followed me into the Citibank and stood next to me as I transacted.  At this point he rubs me in the front and I get a boner, as one does when rubbed in the front.  I tell him that now I have to hide that as I continue on the way home.  

He asks me to walk into Vaseline Alley and I decline.  He asks for my phone number and I decline.  He mentions my neighborhood is very close and I agree that it is, but tell him that I’m quite tired.  He asks if he can give me a hug and I say, “Yeah, sure.”  He tries during the hug to impress me with his tumescent wiener and fails.

I wished him a good night and got on the subway.

Your neighborhood; it is very you.

Rod

 

Every promoter in the city is sending out an email this morning about their party, but only Daniel Nardicio is having a Po' Boy Special

Wanting to fill the room, but afraid that his twink-ly audience might be on the broke side in this new economy of ours, Daniel presents an offer for attendees of his Trash party:

"PO BOY Special:
if youre so poor you cant pay after 1am, but really want to come, and are willing to do ANYTHING once inside to repay me sexually- email me at danielnardicio@gmail.com to get on my FREEBIES list"

Subconjuntioned tone piece II

So I receive this email from someone that has seen my picture on some website or another and approaches me, via email, for NSA sex and, being an open-minded person, I ask him to send pictures of himself, actually "many picture" and he totally did in addition to sort of his whole life story, up to and including his current “openly mutually cheating” relationship, and being polite, I sent back a critique of the pictures, his "poorly lit, very 'self--holding-phonecam' pic” for which the color was off because of the lighting, and, so, he promised (twice and profusely) to get new pictures and send them right away, but regardless, I didn’t have an interest in this person, and really hadn’t expressed one, although there was an interest as to why he seeks the approval of this person whose picture he had seen on a website, but that was explained sort of in his last email asking for one confirmation:  “This is momo, right?”

One day after all of the start-ups become dried-ups and all the domain names have been bought by Berkshire Hathaway and the only websites you see are by corporations, the needy desperate story of the Internet, how we reacted to it and how our interactions were transformed by it, will be written, and it will be the saddest story ever written, except for "Old Yeller".  And maybe the beginning of Bambi.

 

Nick McGlynn's DYI Fleshlight

Nick, a total BILF (Breeder I'd Like to Fingerbang), is either a genius or a pschopath.  Decide for yourself.

Link: Nick McGlynn.

Advice for men with big penises that aren't particularly fond of condoms

Link: ‘New York Men Don't Wear Condoms Because They Have Small Penises’ -- Daily Intel -- New York News Blog -- New York Magazine.

Guys with thick dicks hate condoms as well.  It's like a little tourniquet at the base.  An inappropriately placed over-small cock-ring.  A put-in-the-dryer-too-long ...

Meh.  You get the idea.  But since you don't want to be nuisanced (was it that long ago that I would have typed 'killed by') an STD, here's two tips for the swashbucklers out there:

1. Sure, we all know that Magnums are the bomb, but now there are also Magnum Thins.  They are so much more comfortable and sensation-allowing than the regular Tupperware-thick models.
2. When you put the condom on, roll it all the way down, then back up about 3/4 of an inch.  The base of the penis seems especially sensitive to the pressure applied at the condom's mouth.  Mitigating this is that this increases your skin exposure to warts and herpes and other fag fungi if you are a "full penetrator".

Would someone please stick Michael Musto's peepee in their booboo, and soon?

Following is a comment I wrote on Michael Musto's blog.  Click through to find read what provoked me.

Homo, please. 

There are plenty of one-night stands to be had out there.  I question your choice of venues.  The eyebrow-threaded, popped-and-ironed-collar, dihydroxyacetone-dyed cosmo drinkers at [insert name of Hell's Kitchen venue here] are bad lays anyway, Michael dearest.

The problem is more that there is now a variety of gay venues from up-market to down-market.  You're making choices to go to chi-chi cha-cha bullshitterias when you could be at the bumpy-bump bam-bam cocketerias.

(The real problem is that everybody now carries a fucking camera in their phone.  (Myself included.)  Any illicit activity is photographed, broadcast, and cataloged.  For this reason, the feeling of intimacy/privacy/safety in public spaces has forever been abandoned in the public gay venues.  Thus the retreat to one's own home in order to let the cock free.  (Hell, I am hesitant to even to go to a trick's place, fearing a hidden cocksucker's camera catch me and throw me out to x-tube.))

Link: village voice > blogs > La Daily Musto > Sad Gay Reality: You Can't Get Picked Up in a Bar Anymore

Via Gawker