E-MAIL $ BILL: Any suggestions, requests or inquiries about advertising can be sent to dollarbill@nyc.rr.com.

The content of this blog is purely for entertainment purposes and in no way promotes any illegal activities between

buyer and seller. Mutual arrangements are for companionship and time spent only.

Tuesday, April 15, 2014


I love Page Six days. It's all about cheesecake and nothing about using my brain to desperately try to say something new.

OK, guys! I know there are some OSUCA fans out there.  I can't be the only one. Well, guess what! She'll be available for consultation at LOVELY ASIANS (212-470-0409) all this week. Carpe diem. Here's a new pic of the princess.

Yesterday was actually kind of a work day for me. So I strapped on my foul weather gear and did my thing! HOT LIPS (646-309-0453) has a new girl named SALLY…and GENTLEMAN'S CHOICE (917-947-0723) has a new cutie from Florida named SASHA. Plus TRINITY wanted new pix as well. So here goes with the aforementioned cheesecake. Enjoy!



The world is full of whores. Of that there can be no doubt. For every person of high moral fiber, there are 100 who'll commit all manner of ethical indiscretions in the name of greed and avarice. For every Ghandi, there's  a money-grubbing prostitute willing to compromise everything in pursuit of the Golden Idol. We need only look toward Wall Street to see some of the richest and nefarious flatbackers mankind has ever known. 

But this is way too grand a scale for me to ponder given my station in life. I leave the real whores for somebody else to ponder. I'll stick with escorts for the moment. The fact that I see them as more upfront and less whorish than the majority is of no consequence for I am nothing in the great stream of things.

This entry is about dignity. And I maintain that a girl who leaves her customers satisfied has much more than say a dentist who tells his patient he has 20 cavities when he has but one. Or a mechanic who pretends you need a new transmission when a quart of fluid is all you need. Or a stockbroker who sells you into a fund he knows is dog shit just to make a commission. Or…on and on and on.

But for whatever reason, society disagrees. It views escort work as immoral and undignified. That's why they call them whores! Such a nasty yet descriptive word! But what's so wrong with providing a much needed service? Nothing in my estimation. Any job worth doing is a job worth doing well…especially when it's in the therapeutic realm. Getting your tooth filled properly is satisfying. Ditto for having what's actually wrong with your car repaired at a reasonable price. But an hour with a good escort who takes pride in her work? No comparison for most guys who read this blog. You don't think back and reminisce about your mechanic making your car run smoothly - or you dentist fixing your teeth. But a good experience with an escort? A lifetime of daydreaming nostalgia!

To the point! I've known a lot of escorts who provided superior service far exceeding a regular girl's performance or enthusiasm. But somehow once out of the room, the girl's life falls apart completely! That hour she's in the room the woman excels. But once out of her eminent domain? OMG!! Pimpish boyfriends? Bad living situations? Substance problems? Desperate financial straits? They too are the domain of way too many escorts.

You'd think given the money they make, you'd find a multitude of women living a rich, cultured and comfortable life outside of their work. But those escorts are in the distinct minority! How do you make well into six figures per year and be homeless? Now that's a trick at which escorts excel!

And it's really a shame. A lot of the escorts I've known aren't bad people. And they're not bad-looking. And they're good at what they do. But success in life according to the usual yardsticks - or any yardstick? Disaster! I guess it's because of the stigma attached to their choice of career. Or maybe they're just losers - and that's why they do what they do.

Whatever…it's too bad so many otherwise attractive women lead such undignified existences. It's a big turn off. With the cash they make...it would be really easy to set themselves up nicely. But most don't. That's all I'm sayin' today. Peace!

Monday, April 14, 2014


There's an old adage in the real estate business that goes like this: For every shady tenant, there's an even shadier landlord. And trust me…when it comes to landlords in the escort business, they far exceed the renters by a country mile when it comes to the shadiness factor.

Within the confines of the subculture, tenants are unusually good. They're happy to have a place in which to conduct their marginal type business and exercise due diligence thus paying they rent on time rather than elicit the ire and/or scrutiny of a meddlesome landlord. But the landlords? It's a field day for them.

In the escort biz, you can classify landlords into two types: those who know what's going on…and those who don't! Whichever…both can be unscrupulous.

Take my old buddy Kelly for example. To  start her own business, she subleased a place from a spa owner without properly reading a lease which explicitly stated that the place could only be used for hair and nails. And guess what happened! Quickly, the landlord figured out that the new tenant was not doing just "nails" and slapped a piece of paper on her door demanding that she leave - but not before paying the entire amount due for the rest of the lease - which was $227,000! Ouch!

Naturally, I got a panicked call from the phone girl asking if I knew a lawyer. So I contacted a barrister I knew and what was the first thing he did? Dude went over and got a massage! Priceless. But the point is…even the type of landlord who didn't want to lease to the type of business Kelly was running wasn't above taking advantage of the situation and trying to rip her ten new assholes financially.

Then ya got landlord #2…the guy who knows what time it is and figures he'll take a chance (there are laws against landlords renting to illegal businesses) because a) he's having problems finding a tenant for the space and/or b) he knows he can have his way with somebody who's operating one of those peripheral type businesses.

Take Rainbow for example, an Asian place which entertained in the neighborhood of 90 guys per day! Guess how much they were paying for that basement shithole nobody would want to rent! Twelve grand a month. That's how much! Yikes! The owner knew they were making money hand over fist and kept upping the rent accordingly as if he had a stake in their enterprise! And this dude had Episodes on another floor - and an illegal hostel on yet another! Talk about an operator!

Anyway…the reason this comes to mind today is this: A friend of mine who was actually living in what I would call a vice building, decided to move out and sublease her space. And guess what! The landlord wants $1000 to change the name on the lease. Talk about a fucking shyster. Hello! Every floor  in your building is rented to marginal tenants, dude! And the owner is a religious Jew! I always wondered how those guys reconciled their religion with manipulating tenants or paying escorts for their time when they're married with children (which many do) for that matter.

Whatever…the world is full of shady mother fuckers...and I'd say I'm one of them but honestly, in comparison, I'm a fucking boy scout. I'm the type of guy who gives the money back when somebody overpays me! Go figure.

Sunday, April 13, 2014


When it was a game...as in...when it was a game somebody could afford to go to. Recently a friend asked me if I'd seen the Met game that day. Met game? I haven't watched 10 minutes of baseball the entire season. Zero interest...at least until October when I might watch a game if either the Mets or Yankees are involved. But it wasn't always that way for me. As a child, I went to all the ball parks in the Metropolitan area. Yup! I saw the Bums lose a twin bill at Ebbets Field. I watched Jimmie Pearsall run the bases backwards when he hit his 100th career home run at the Polo Grounds. I was at the park when Roger Maris hit his 61st home run. And best of all, I saw Mickey Mantle pinch hit a home run at the original Yankee Stadium when he was drunk!

Saturday, April 12, 2014


For the past 20 years, I've been using the same accountant to file my taxes. What was I thinking? The guy gave me an incredibly bad piece of advice about a year ago so I decided to fire him...do a little studying...and get the job done on my own. And I gotta tell y'all…with endless tutorials, pamphlet pdf's and free software available on the web, it wasn't that difficult. The only glitch I had was...somehow, the Fed had fucked up my birth date and thus, my returns were getting rejected. But one call to the IRS resolved the snafu and I'm billed out and bound to go.

But all that isn't what I wanted to talk about today. Something else gave me pause this week. And that is the reduced amount of traffic on this site in the past few days. For a second, I began wondering what was happening until I realized "schmuck! It's tax deadline time. Nobody's spending! They're not even window-shopping!"

A long time ago when I began selling tv ads, one of the media outlets' owners told me not to sell anybody on his product until after April 15th. "The ads won't work," said Ben. "It's tax time and nobody spends until after the 15th." Judging from the numbers on this blog for the past few days, I have to acknowledge his wisdom. Even GC lamented that they've been having some slow shifts recently. And that's a busy place - usually!

Anyway…you would think that a significant portion of America's taxpayers would be partying in anticipation of getting their refunds. But apparently, it's not the overwithheld wage slave who indulges himself spending time with escorts. That set of royals appears to be in the position of settling up come April 15th. What are ya gonna do?

Thursday, April 10, 2014


Sometimes you listen to an old song you once played over and over again on your phonograph and wonder "why the hell did I ever like that? Like…it totally sucks!" But then on other occasions...you can't believe how the tune stands the test of time and it's like "wow! I had really good taste back then. This shit rocks 50 years later!"

One of those ditties in the latter category is a number titled "Chantilly Lace," a song written and performed by a Texas DJ who not only invented the Wolfman Jack voice during his vocal performance…but actually embodied everything that was country, rock and roll, and soul in his timeless rendition!

And how's about all the kids with their "ific" buttons (as in flavor-ific) chewing Beech Nut gum, no doubt shoved in their mouths by Dick Clark's sponsor. Talk about takin' me back! So here's the Big Bopper for your edification and enjoyment. And speaking of Big Boppers…check out JAZMINE (as promised last night) from GENTLEMAN'S CHOICE (917-547-0723). Enjoy!


I find the work names the girls use for themselves endlessly fascinating. Like with pimps…they generally name their chattel after cars - which is why there are so many Mercedes and Porsches in their crew. Or as I used to say…it's not a Mercedes…nor a Porsche…it's Alexus! Haha! Another overused name in their subculture.

Generally, you'd expect owners would give their employees sexy names like Bridgette, Beyonce or Lisette. But I remember seeing an ad for a girl named Maude a few years back! Maude!! Whatever the picture looked like...all I could see was Bea Arthur. Not exactly a hard-on inducer I'm sure we can all agree.

Tending toward the functional rather than the seductive, one Asian place called themselves Bunny Girls...and simply gave the girls numbers so you'd call up and ask something like "is bunny #2 available tonight?" Sooo personal! And then there was another Asian place which named the staff after European cities as in…London, Vienna, Berlin and Paris…which brings me to today!

HIYAKO SPA (212-679-3681) has a new girl they've named PARIS. Cute! An Asian girl whose name is the capital of France. Makes sense to me - in a topsy turvy world. But really…who cares? The old expression "what's in a name" comes to mind. And the answer in this case is "nothing" if you ask me. She can be named Beulah for all I care…just so she looks good. That's what matters!

Moving on...apparently, my opinion that Hiyako's girl TAMI had pictures taken which didn't do her justice came to the house's attention - because she shot some new ones recently. Cute girl in the flesh but still…i'm not crazy for her new photos.

Finally, for guys who like their nubian princesses naturally busty, GENTLEMAN'S CHOICE (917-547-0723) has a new girl named JASMINE who fits the bill. Unfortunately, she was occupied when I went over there so no pix for the moment. I'll have to double back and get the job done. But in the meantime…here are those Hiyako girls…and a Family Guy bit about Maude:

Wednesday, April 9, 2014


Walking down my block a few weeks ago, I was gratified to see a bunch of books perched on the edge of a dumpster - all of which begged to be read by a passerby. So I took a few minutes to browse and came home with something Snooki wrote (I threw that out immediately), a book called "In the Belly of the Beast" (a collection of letters written to Norman Mailer by a violent felon from prison), and an exhaustive biography of Alexander Hamilton.

I began with the prison book - as that seemed like it would be much juicier than the biography about the first Secretary of the Treasury. But it wasn't. I know Norman Mailer (the prisoner's de facto sponsor) was a big liberal genius...but I disagreed with his assessment of one Jack Henry Abbot, the convict and author. Mailer took him for some sort of new age philosopher. I took him for an incarcerated whack job. After about 50 pages of Abbot's obtuse observations, I gave up on reading his crap and went to google him. And that's where I found some interesting reading!

It turns out that Abbot wrote all those letters to Mailer after "The Executioner's Song" was published to let Mailer know that his work wasn't as authentic as the author might have liked. So impressed with Abbot's work was Mailer that through his influence, Abbot's letters were published and the prisoner himself released. And what happened? Two weeks after getting out, Abbot got in a hassle with a waiter at the Binibon just around the corner from my apartment and killed the guy when they "took it outside." Understandably, Mailer was the target of a lot of criticism for sponsoring the killer who clearly, was not ready for life on the outside. 

Great story - unless you were the waiter! Anyway…here's my review of "In the Belly of the Beast: Letters From Prison…and my take on Norman Mailer's role in bringing this psycho to the public's attention:" The book reads mostly like the self-indulgent horse shit it truly is…and Mailer is an idiot for getting duped by a common killer (Abbot also murdered an inmate while behind bars). That's super liberals for ya! What works in theory isn't always practicable in the real world.

On to the Hamilton book. To my surprise, I found that work to be much more interesting than the prison letters. I'm not about to go into the "Top Ten Things You Never Knew about Alexander Hamilton" because I don't think anybody would care. But there is one relevant quote from a book which contains several word-for-word passages penned by Hamilton throughout his life (and by the way, Hamilton was an excellent writer whose talent with the pen was his launching pad to fame and notoriety). 

While recommending some guy for a commission in the army, Hamilton praised the man with these exact words: "He is just what I should like for a military person except that he does not whore or drink."

It's not that I'm unaware of a soldier's predilections - or a miner's - or a seaman's - or any one of us for that matter. It's just so much fun discovering these pithy quotes from one of The Founding Fathers. In Hamilton's eyes, his friend was perfect for the military despite the fact that he didn't get drunk and consort with lewd women. Too funny! 

Anyway…my moral for the day: Better to pay escorts for their time than get in a shmassle with an ex-con. And beware the mission of a bleeding heart liberal who views his world through rose-colored glasses. It could get you killed!

Tuesday, April 8, 2014


Too often, the objects of our extreme affection are here today and gone forever tomorrow. Just when you think you've found your perfect girl? Bam! She vanishes - leaving many a red-blooded male in the lurch. If I had a dollar for every guy who e-mailed me or commented about his separation anxiety concerning somebody or other's disappearing act, I'd have a pocket full of dollars.

So anyway…one reader recently requested that I repost an old photo of his paramour Sunny, who has (to his chagrin) just recently exited the fold for greener pastures. And once I went searching for Sunny's picture, I figured I might as well include a few more as well. No doubt, these photos (all taken by yours truly I might add) will leave you with some bittersweet memories - hopefully more sweet than bitter. There were a few others as well - but the images weren't captured by me. And given that the guy complimented my meager photography skills, I decided not to include anything shot by anybody else. 

So here goes with the mammaries. Enjoy!

Saturday, April 5, 2014


Here's a moldy oldie about a surreal sales experience from back when I worked for Action Magazine. My days of selling to dungeons are long gone...but the repulsive memory still lingers.

No, that's not a typo in the title. This is a story about "fisting." Now, I'm not a fisting kind of guy. I don't want to fist anybody...I certainly don't want to be fisted...and I wouldn't be caught dead within a hundred miles of anybody who was getting fisted unless I was selling an ad. And me being an adult ad guy...you know more or less what's coming next!

So I was at the legendary Hellfire Club many years ago...at some sort of function where one of my dungeon clients (The Den of Iniquity) had requested I make an appearance to photograph some of their dommes. As I've said before...the dungeon scene does nothing for me unless one of the dommes is really hot and she wants me to fuck her. And obviously, that almost never happens. But if they want an ad, I'll go do the business. I'm not prejudiced like that.

Anyway...while I was in between photo subjects, a dungeon owner approached me to ask about prices in Action Magazine. And like a good salesman, I whipped out the paper and began my hustle. Going almost unnoticed in the Caligula-like atmosphere - and only ten or maybe fifteen feet away from us - was a domme fisting the life out of some fat, hairy dude who was moaning like a baby so audibly that he was fucking up my sales pitch.

I couldn't believe it. Here I'm tryin' to sell a fucking ad in this hell hole and I'm getting thwarted by some wimp bawling his eyes out because a sicko domme has her arm halfway up his ass! And all I could think was..."Dude! Man up you fucking noodle! Whip out a big, fat hard-on and nail the bitch. Pound her good! Make HER moan and groan. And if ya can't do that, how's about shuttin' the fuck up so I can make this sale?!?" Well obviously, that wasn't gonna happen! But golly! What the hell was wrong with that guy?

I honestly can't remember if I sold the ad or not but I certainly DO recall vividly the feeling of disgust and amazement I felt at witnessing this scene. I mean...people can do what they want if they're doing it consentually but come on...a fist up your ass? That's not a man!

The other time I had a similar feeling of revulsion was at yet another dungeon whose head mistress had a slave who catered to her every whim (not uncommon in the dominance game). And while I was hanging out in the office doing something related to selling the owner an ad, her slave came to the door of the office dressed in full maid regalia to drop to his knees and ask the boss if there would be anything else she needed.

With this guy, my immediate reaction was to hold back my laughter. But it wasn't long before I switched back to "man up" mode. Ya know...like..."Get off your fucking knees you doofus. Your mistress is no queen. She's a fucking whip whore! In fact, she used to own a whorehouse and used to be a whore herself until she got tired of getting arrested. So she opened up a dungeon! Her natural state is to be on her back getting stretched out by a stud with a big dick. Man up, bitch! What the fuck is wrong with you?!?!"

Well anyway...I tell you this story because a friend of mine asked me just yesterday if I'd ever fisted anybody. My answer was an emphatic no...but the question DID bring these two stories to mind. So the moral is...if you're into fisting, that's fine. Just don't partake ten feet away from me while I'm trying to sell and ad and we'll be cool!


In the figurative sense, you could say I do my fair share of "sleeping around." But speaking literally, I do not. While I have no sleep problems per se (I rarely toss and turn), the moment you put somebody in bed next to me is when the problems start. I'm just one of those people who likes to sleep alone…and I came to find out I'm not the only one.

As I mentioned recently, a girl with whom I've been intimate for many years proposed that she stay with me (which includes literal sleeping together) when she returns to New York - something we've simply never done. And that's not a  coincidence. The girl herself says she can't sleep in a bed with anyone else. That makes two of us!

So I was describing this situation (that we're pondering spending an entire night together) to a mutual friend and guess what she came back with unsolicited? "I can't sleep with anybody else either. When I used to stay over with Brett" (her ex-boyfriend), "I'd just toss and turn all night!" Go figure! Maybe this isn't such an exclusive club after all. 

I tell y'all this for no particular reason except that the subject is less controversial than say...ragging on a few people who've really been pissing me off lately (what I was going to write about). Just not in the mood for the inevitable splashback I always get from going off on some loser.

Well anyway...on to some page 6 stuff. Duty called last night and I found myself over at GENTLEMAN'S CHOICE (917-547-0723) taking pictures of a lithe, supple and intoxicating new cutie named SIDAYA! And a unique individual she is! Sid girl is multi-lingual (she actually speaks Russian) and her English is decidedly upper crust and British-sounding. It's clear to me that this is a lady with breeding and style. I didn't ask a lot of questions about her journey to America - or the escort profession - but during our time together, I did discover that this is Sid's initial foray into the companionship fray. So if that old assembly line feeling is getting you down, Sidaya would be a good choice for your next rendezvous. Personally, I was lovin' her long legs and round little booty! Plus, she guessed my age to be 45! Gotta love a girl like that!

Anyway…here's a couple of the pix I shot of Sidaya…plus two bonus images of yet another new GC girl named EVA BLUE, a stacked and beefy Hungarian buddy SOFIA brought to the party. If you like a curvy, sexy Eastern European…you might want to convene with EVA. She's substantial in all the right places…that's for sure! Getting her to emote for the camera after a long day at work wasn't easy…but I prevailed more or less.

Whatever…here goes!

Thursday, April 3, 2014


Lots of news for today. First, I paid a visit to the new SECRET DIARY (917-531-1867) relocated to the East 30's. The building has just been renovated - which means the hallways are almost as immaculate as the apartment itself - which itself is the usual "you-can-eat-off-the-floor" kind of place to which you've grown accustomed in the Asian community - this one complete with a wine cellar, state-of-the-art stainless steel fridge, and luxurious rooms with queen size beds. Their new spot is a cozy love nook for sure! 

Too often, I miss JOLIE because she always seems to be busy. But on this occasion, we got to hang out for half an hour. I liked Jolie when she was a phone girl…and I like her now just as much - even though there isn't as much of her as they're used to be (she gained a few pounds sitting around eating all day and not burning off any of those calories when she did the phones). Overall…I think I'd have to rate her right at the top of the Asian escort list - unless you include GAGA, who will apparently be returning to New York and appearing at SECRET DIARY in the near future. Jolie showed me a few face pic selfies of Gaga and I gotta tell ya…Lady Gaga (the rock star) wishes she could be as cute as Asian escort Gaga. There's one shot of her working out at the gym that's really cute. 

OK! Enough of that! Moving on…MIA (also a big favorite) has re-surfaced at LOVELY ASIAN (212-470-0409)…and CANDY and (drum roll) AQUA have both returned to GOLDEN ASIAN (646-391-2639) with new pix for your titillation! So there's your "page six roundup" for today. Oh! And by the way! Jolie thought the photos of Lola were the bomb - or more accurately, she thought Lola was the bomb. Hard to argue that point! 

Anyway…I love "page six" days. I don't have to think up anything to write about. Makes my life easy! And now…here's da goils minus Gaga! The selfies stay undercover.

Wednesday, April 2, 2014


You know that whatever business it is…if the employees stay for a long time…that means the bosses are cool. And so it goes with ATHENA SPA (212-683-4484) and NY SPA (212-575-5600). I stop by once a month and for the past 2 years, I've seen the same receptionists - all of whom are "bring home to mommers." I mean…these girls are really cute! Not only that…the places where they work are first rate. You have to see the interior to be a true believer. Talk about spacious, plush and immaculate! I know this sounds like a commercial (which it is) but trust me…the truth is the truth! Go check it out for yourself! Enough said.

For fans of LOLA (347-678-3155) - (and who isn't?)…she'll be  out at the Meadowlands starting tomorrow (Thursday) until Saturday! Talk about GIANTS! Move over LT! LOLA'S in town!

Anyway…here's a few shots of Ms. Honey (Lola) not included in her last post. I had 60 - and a lot of them are good!


Even though he's a hater who lives to whittle away at my very being, one commenter brought up a valid point. Is a "real" photo of the actual girl worthy of that description if that image is photoshopped to enhance her looks? And am I in fact justified in claiming that photo is real? 

In his comment, the reader maintains that I've always promised that only real and unphotoshopped pictures appear on this site. That's an outright misrepresentation of my credo - and one that proves the individual's agenda - which is to knock me down. 

But more important...how much photoshop is permissible under my ethos - and at what point does a real photo become fake once a heaping help of photoshop is applied? And therein, I acknowledge his complaint as legitimate. 

The guys (and girls) who photograph KMP girls use the program liberally - sometimes too liberally for my tastes - and the phone girls' as well. There have been times that those phone girls have complained to me that it can occasionally be difficult to deal with complainants who barely recognize the girl pictured in whichever ad when they arrive. 

Although I can sympathize, there isn't a lot I can do about the situation. I don't take the pictures…and I certainly don't recommend that anybody alter them to the point that the girl is simply unrecognizable! I only ask that nobody try to hoodwink me with outright fake images downloaded from the Internet. Beyond that it's a caveat emptor for the guys. In my defense, I go way beyond the pale compared to most other resources. With the leaders (Eros, Backpage and Craigslist), you're left to your own devices to decipher which pictures are fake - and which are real. Here at least you know they're real. And I should be applauded for that more than criticized for allowing photoshopped images to appear on this site.

Moving on…to my current photographic representations: I do not take most of the pictures featured on the sidebar of this blog. That fact could be considered fortunate by some - and unfortunate by others. Fortunate because the pros who shoot the KMP girls have better cameras and use lights and umbrellas. They are professional - and I am not! But unfortunate because my images are a much fairer representation of the girl than theirs. And often, I relate to the subject more - and thus, get a better pose. Just because you're a "pro" and have fancy equipment doesn't mean you have any talent for the craft. 

Whatever…here's my philosophy on escort photography: I endeavor to get the subject to strike an attractive and sexy pose which accentuates her positives and diminishes her flaws. I then adjust the lighting to eliminate shadows…illuminate the girl…and yes, smooth her skin and ever-so-slightly accentuate her curves to produce an image that gets a guy interested - but not to the point that he'll be disappointed and feel hustled when he sees the girl in the flesh.

It's a tradeoff. My job is to take pictures that make the phones ring - and certainly not to catch a girl on a bad day - in a bad pose - just to make her look as bad as I possibly can. That's ridiculous! I maintain that no client walks based on my photography - and that the great majority do (or at least should) appreciate my efforts in this area. If you go to see a girl whose picture I've taken, I can almost guarantee you'll be happy with my representation of her. And in an age of bait and switch hustlers and three card monty shills…that's a good thing. If I were a patron of escorts, I'd consider this site the last word in truth in advertising. It may not be perfect…but this site's images are screened for authenticity - something you can't say for the leaders. End of story. I've made my case.

Tuesday, April 1, 2014


Like…how many times have I used that corny headline? Who cares? It's just as lame - or clever - as it ever was. And I'll keep using it till it's worn down to the nub. Why not?

Whatever…GENTLEMAN'S CHOICE (917-547-0723) has a new girl named CATARINA! Two cents says you can't figure out her nationality from the title! OK! Send me your address so I can pay up! 

Moving on...I got one shot where her facial expression is really cute - and you can feel Catarina's personality shining through. But alas…I can't show that one. You know how that goes. Regardless, the girl comes complete with blonde hair and the accent which many find sooo seductive. And she was very cooperative during the shoot as well - which was amazing considering it was the end of her first day on the job and she'd just finished a double shift. 

I also had the astounding pleasure of hanging out with SOPHIA. Wow! I'm hungry for that Hungarian. Come to think of it, I could have titled this entry "Behind the Iron Curtain!" Oh, yeah! There is no iron curtain anymore! Silly me!

But back to Sophia! She's hot! And the hungry one wants some new pictures (as it turns out) - but wasn't quite ready to take the plunge last night as she didn't think her outfit was appropriate. I disagreed. With sumptuous frontals precariously protruding from her shirt, I thought she was sporting the perfect ensemble to wow everybody. Oh well! Tomorrow's another day. But Sophia did stick around to kibbitz during Catarina's session which I assume meant that she's ready to be next!

Anyway…here's CATARINA!

Monday, March 31, 2014


As the old commercial used to say…"this isn't your father's Oldsmobile"…and the words in the title of this entry aren't part of your old man's vocabulary. They're part of your grandfather's! Words! Go figure! One day they're hip and cool…and the next? PassĂ© like a mother fucker and indicative of just how unenlightened the user truly is! 

Way back when…Sal was a gal...Bogie loved dames…and construction workers hooted at broads. And the word "oriental?" One day it was perfectly acceptable...and the next? Dated and racist! "Asian" became the new enlightened term.

So anyway…I have a friend whose Backpage ads are a train wreck.  The girls aren't labeled with their names…the names in the headline don't match the women pictured…and on and on. It's a joke. And get this: The guy who writes the text referred to the employees he was promoting as "gals." Gals. Like dude…in what century were you born? How about hawking all the "colored" gals or "darkeys" the place features? Fucking gals. Can you believe that shit?

Many years ago, I was running ads for a sanitation worker turned escort service owner. I kid you not. The dude was a garbage man until he saw the light - which was putting two skanks in a car for 10 hours and sending them to whomever would pay $150 for an hour of their time. 

So…homey was trying to drum up credit card business (highly illegal) on behalf of a friend and colleague who had just scored a merchant's account and wanted to run cards for any agency I knew of who needed somebody to help him accept cc customers. And of course, he would get a middleman fee in the deal.

In describing his buddy, my solicitor allayed any fears I might have about forwarding people with this disclaimer: "He's a spade…but he's a cool spade." I couldn't help but burst into laughter. A spade? Too funny! How's about a "moolie"…or a "spook" while you're at it?  

Anyway…the point is this: If you're gonna write copy for an adult directory ad, try not to call the women "gals"…unless the "gal" you're advertising is 95 years old. I had an old friend who used to use the word "gal." And guess what! The guy had zero game. He couldn't get laid in a whorehouse - especially using a word like that!

We're in the 21st century last time I checked. Dames, broads and gals have been replaced with skanks, bitches and ho's! Get with the lexicon, buddy. This ain't no Screw Magazine. And just like that publication…those words have come and gone…and are only employed by old farts who drive around in Model T's. 

Moving on…GOLDEN ASIAN (646-391-2639) has a new girl named KARA. Looking pretty good from her picture. Check it out. And LOLA (from yesterday) wants to thank everybody who called to say hi. And I want to thank the guys for telling her how much they like her new pix. Hey! Annie Liebowitz I ain't. But I did get the job done better than my predecessors. So I'm good for something. 


I can't even begin to tell y'all how many times I've been to Florida in my life. It started at age 8 when every spring break for three years running, my brother and I would fly down to St. Pete for a visit with our paternal grandparents. Back then it was kind of fun. All we did was swim and fish all day - two of my favorite activities as readers of this blog are well aware. But once I grew up, Florida lost all its allure. I mean…it's mostly geezers…it's hot…it's flat…it's culturally barren…it's too far. Need I go on?

Once grandma died, the Florida vacations ended. Grandpa couldn't give two shits about his son's grandkids anyway so I was granted a reprieve. But not for long! When my old man became a star, he bought a big ass boat (or two)…docked them in Miami…and flew my brother and me down once or twice a year - which turned out to be the only times we ever got to see him. So essentially, if I wanted to see pops, I had to jump a plane and fly 1500 miles to (drum roll) Florida for the privilege.

Financed by a big corporation to start his own record company, the old man moved to California, a move that promised I might not have to visit Florida ever again. But not to be. Then came my music gigs! First? Four weeks with a no-name show band at a Ft. Pierce Holiday Inn. Next…9 days in Hollywood with Stephanie Mills. And finally...another two weeks at Miami, Ft. Meyers, Orlando and Jacksonville with Joey Dee and the Starlighters. And through it all…still no mountains, rivers or streams!

Exiting the roadwork world didn't help. The old man's record company failed and he retired to guess where! St. Pete - where I'd spent those childhood spring breaks…thus promising more visits until daddio went to the next world in 1994 - which was coincidentally, the same year mom moved down to Palm Beach. Snakebit! And to this day, I wince every time she or my brother (who also bought a place in Florida - conveniently located just 170 miles away from my mother) invite me down for a visit. Like what the fuck?!?!

So moving to the present…I have a long time FWB with whom I've been doing pretty well lately. She's bipolar and I only slightly more stable and thus, we have our issues. But not in the last 4 or 5 months. Everything's been going pretty well and the sex just gets better and better. 

This particular individual has a penchant for moving. Just in the past few years, she's gone from Manhattan…to Long Beach…to Great Neck…to Palm Beach…and then back to Manhattan. But she's starting to hate New York plus...the lease on her crappy walk-up is about to expire. And last week I got the call: "Dolly" (what she calls me)…"I'm done with New York. I'm moving back to Florida. You'll come visit me, right?" 

To quote the girl (when she finds herself in an uncomfortable situation)...I once again find myself in the wrong movie! The likelihood I'll go visit her in Florida - especially since she's going to the Sun coast which is far away from either my brother or mother - is minimal regardless of how much I want to interface with her physically. 

But all is not lost. The girl plans on keeping her NY doctors (don't ask me why)…will be doing some commuting back and forth as such…and has already asked if it's OK that she stays with me on her visits back to the Big Apple. That should be interesting as neither of us is very good at sleeping in a bed with another person and in fact, all through the years, we never have spent an entire night together!

Well anyway…before I go, I'd like to admit that there was one Florida visit I did enjoy. The garden vacation spot was Lake City. OK! Where and what the fuck is Lake City, Florida? Answer: A town of about 50,000 located in north central Florida. Close your eyes and you think you're in the deep south. Nobody's Jewish. Nobody's retired…and Joey Dee and the Starlighers are trading sets with a country western band at the local juke joint. All the tunes on the jukebox are green because they're all country.

I'm sitting at the bar subsequent to an afternoon rehearsal…just sipping a can of Busch as the owner's brother plays green tune after green tune on the jukebox regaling me with the history of each and every artist and song playing. In between, the singer in the house band is next to me also sipping a beer - and musing about the fact that his cowboy hat cost him more than his present automobile. And if that ain't a country song, I don't know what is! Ya think that's a good day? Get this: A couple of girls who you might see on the Springer show actually brought me back to their trailers to enlarge and tenderize my strategic parts after the show. Ah…the good life. Did I mention how much I love Florida?


How's that for alliteration? Fair. Here's another equally lame attempt: Check Out the Czech Chick! But then there's my ATF (though not alliterative) written by an old Screw editor as the title of an Eastern European porn flick review: The Male Is In the Czech. Now that right there is true genius!

So anyway…yesterday's main activity involved going over to GENTLEMAN'S CHOICE (917-547-0723) to take pictures of the new girl…a Chilean chili pepper named RAQUEL. Described accurately (by the phone girl) as a goth-looking lady, I was happy to meet a friendly and cooperative South American (from Chile hence the title) who in fact appears more goth than latina…that is...until she opens her mouth. Then Raquel's latina roots become obvious. 

And that's probably a good thing…as I've never found goth chicks to be all that warm and cozy. Mostly, they're judgmental and superior to anybody who isn't pasty white and sporting multiple piercings and tattoos. And given that I have zero tats or piercings, goth girls never noticed me!

Whatever…if you want someone who exudes that exalted air that screams "I'm a princess…worship me"…that sentiment you can find in full effect with PENELOPE, whom I met for the first time last night. Dispelling the rumors, I can tell you without equivocation that the girl is not a sex change…and that she indeed is very beautiful. Rumor has it that Penelope has done video work with the likes of 50 Cent, so I get the idea that to impress her you might want to be a muckety-muck in the rap world. 

I remember many years ago I had a friend who coincidentally was producing Stanley Jordan and wanted to know how he could go about picking up strippers at a club. My answer? Get Clive to give you a fancy Arista jacket (Stanley was recording for Arista Records)...wear it to the club…and just sit there. The babes will come to you! Such is the seductive quality of the music business - at least for dancers/strippers. You get the idea.

Moving on…ASIAN MODELS (347-408-8876) will be welcoming two new girls on Friday…but I can't picture them here because the boss sent them to my phone instead of to my e-mail address (I can't transfer the images) and the girls aren't on their site yet for me to download. So hopefully by tomorrow, I'll have those photos to display. But for today…you'll have to chill with the Chilean chili pepper visually. And without further adieu…here she is!

Sunday, March 30, 2014


Over the years I've done business with Russians, Czechs, Germans, Swiss, English, French, Italians, Nigerians, Canadians, Colombians, Chileans, Peruvians, Koreans, Chinese, Japanese and really…girls from virtually every country and of every religion and ethnicity in the whole wide world. It's part of the New York experience. Everybody comes here to pursue their own version of the American Dream and if you live here…you get to meet them all. You would think that with all this diversity, I'd have known my fair share of southern belles as well. Ya know…American girls who worship George Strait...drink beer at a bar...and holler yee-hah when their favorite song comes on the juke box. But you'd be wrong. They just aren't here!

Rumor has it that I like black girls. And while that is partially true, what nobody understands is I love a southern belle - with an easy drawl and a hankerin' for a good-time buckaroo - even if I'm not that buckaroo myself. But it's a moot point because we have very few up here - and virtually none in the escort business. I mean…not once have I ever walked into a place and seen a blonde girl sitting on a couch singing along to an iPod blasting Alan Jackson in her ears. Just never fucking happened! I guess southern belles have more sense than to come to this urban shithole we call the World's Greatest City. We got no fishin' holes…no cricks…no mountains…and no cowboys. What real southern girl would ever want to come here? And so they don't. Wanna fool around with a down-home country girl? Not gonna happen in this Yankee town. 

Years ago when I used to hang out at the Village Idiot and Denim and Diamonds - just crashing on women while I listened to all the c & w hits on the jukebox, I distinctly remember marveling at how nobody was really country. Except one girl. She was from Texas. She had blonde hair…a southern accent and guess what her name was! DIXIE! I had a mad crush on her - as did 657 other guys. Not only was she the real deal…but Dixie was very beautiful as well. Who wouldn't want a roll with Dixie?

Anyway…in this incredibly diverse mosaic that is the Big Apple what I want to know is where are all my cowgirls? Diverse my ass. New York has everybody you'd never want to meet coming here because we live in an icon of pretense and bull shit. And nobody of substance would ever come to this overcrowded dung heap of a metropolis. 

So why am I on such a bender about how badly New York sucks? Actually, it's nothing new. I never liked New York - right from the very first day mama drove us to the city. All I could think was "people actually live here? Ycccch!" But I was born in the suburbs and came to Manhattan after a year of roadwork to pursue a more meaningful musical path…and somehow never left even after I was done with the music business. 

Whatever...living here has its advantages. Like I have a big drugstore and supermarket each less than a mile away both of which are open 24/7. And if the mood strikes for a little companionship? No problem there. Also available all day and night - and accessible with just a phone call.

But still (and back to the point)…that girl is not going to be a southern belle. And so…I have to settle for black girls…or latinas…or Euopeans…or Asians…or whatever. Just no redneck women. We're not just fresh out of them. We never had 'em. And it's a damn shame if you ask me. 

Here's a couple of videos with hot cracker babes so you at least get to see what one looks like!

Friday, March 28, 2014


It's almost beyond discussion whether the AMAZING LOLA (347-678-3155) is just that (amazing). But despite her obvious beauty, she's never had any decent pictures. Neither the pro guy at Jewels nor her last employer (Jay) successfully captured Lola's essence. So when she called to appear here, I offered my photographic services and she accepted.

And soooo…off to her hotel room I went for a quick photo shoot. And I gotta tell y'all…the majority of those 60 photos were awesome! As difficult as it was to choose…here's a few for your edification. Lola's around for the rest of today but I'm not sure she'll be available all week. So carpe diem, boyzzz. I'm lovin' these pictures. And it's not because I'm a genius. It's all Lola!

Thursday, March 27, 2014


While adventuring through You Tube…just letting my nostalgia run free…I landed on the perfect love song. I doubt there's anybody here who knows this group or song, but it doesn't matter. If you want to remember what it feels like to be in love...check out this video.

It just so happens that the song itself was written by three women who formed a band that never made it….even though they were brilliant songwriters. And when I listen to the lyrics, it strikes me that no dude could write this. It's just too romantic. Still, I can appreciate the sentiment. 

The lead singer could and should have been as big as Michael McDonald…he's that good. But then again, the band (Restless Heart) did have a pretty good run. 

Whatever…float back to a time in your life when it wasn't just all about lust and physical gratification…and love mattered!

Wednesday, March 26, 2014


While reading the adult jobs section of Backpage this morning (on behalf of an internet-challenged friend who's looking for a sugar daddy...yes, there are ads run by wannabe sugar daddies in that section), I found an interesting sponsor ad which advertised "Come to Toronto. Business is booming and it's all legal." Curious as to how true that claim actually is, I embarked on a quick research project to study not just the business's legal status in Toronto…but other places here at home as well.

While providing sex in exchange for money is legal in Canada…most of the activities surrounding or facilitating the sale are not! Just for example, soliciting in a public place is against the law - effectively criminalizing street action. And owning, managing, working in, or patronizing a "bawdy house" is similarly illegal. Obviously, this puts a constraint on the business and the ambiguity in Canada's existing law has led some in the judicial system to depict the situation as "bizarre." In fact, the Canadian legislature has declared what amounts to a one year moratorium in which they hope to redefine their position on the trade after several challenges to existing law have further confused the issue. 

Regardless, the bottom line in Canada goes like this: Independent practitioners can advertise themselves on the Internet and ply their trade legally just so they don't work in public or at a "bawdy house"...the implication being that the gov wants its escorts either working independently - or with a service which dispatches the girls. Again…street action and ho houses are a no no! Not perfect in my eyes but understandable. Outdoor solicitations and houses draw attention to the trade. And that's exactly what they don't want. Even though Canada's laws are convoluted and confusing, it's clear that our northern neighbors are considerably more enlightened on the subject than we are in the US.

But we have our progressives as well. From 1980 - 2009, Providence, Rhode Island had a legal interpretation similar to that of Canada's. There was no existing statute criminalizing the act of selling sex for money though owning a brothel, working in the street, or pimping were against the law. But that changed in 2009 when the state legislature passed a bill criminalizing the act of selling sex for money. What can I say? Enlightened one day - and not so much the next.

And thus, Nevada stands as the only state in which the business is legal. But not entirely! Referenda are balloted on a county by county basis for counties having a population of less than700,000! If the majority approves, the business is legalized. If not? Would-be brothel owners can't set up shop legally. And if you're in Las Vegas or any other city located in a county with more than 700,000 inhabitants, you're out of luck. This is for a reason. The gov doesn't want legal prostitution in cities. And that 700,000 inhabitant proviso effectively keeps the places out in the desert where they can more or less operate in a vacuum!

Currently, 8 of Nevada's 16 eligible counties have opted for legalization. Apparently, the revenue stream the citizens enjoy outweighs the hassles and what conservatives would view as the undermining of American morals and society. And so…they go for the money! 

Nevada's progressive attitude on the subject comes from the territory's early days as a mining area…and the ubiquitous nature of the business from the outset. Prostitution was so ingrained in Nevada life that the business became acceptable and has apparently stayed that way to some degree. 

So anyway…there's your legalization roundup. Refer to the image below for counties in which the business is legal in Nevada.

Tuesday, March 25, 2014


I have to admit that I don't watch Dave (Letterman) nearly as much as I used to. Half the time I don't even know who the guests are and too often, I don't find the monologue funny. But Dave still does good interviews. So if there's a person of interest in the guest chair, I usually watch - if I'm around. And last night was one of those nights. Dave had ex-president Jimmy Carter on the big show.

Carter was a cursed one-term president. During his tenure, the country suffered through 20% inflation and a one plus year hostage crisis. And when secret ops staged a daring hostage rescue attempt, the helicopters crashed into each other in a sand storm. Ouch! Nobody gets re-elected when he presides over that! But to his credit, Carter worked 15 hour days and was (and is) an extremely intelligent man. He did his absolute best for Americans - as opposed to Bush II who did more vacationing than he did work.

But I digress. Mr. Carter has written a new book about all the abuses women still suffer in backward countries. Ya know…like having their clits snipped off shortly after birth so they can't enjoy sex? Or being trafficked against their will to perform sexual acts for money? Nasty stuff like that!

I rail on and on about there being no trafficking of girls against their wills in my world. But maybe mine is an insular one…and trafficking actually does exist - even in the US! Mr. Carter made me aware of that reality. Just because these KMP girls I know are all operating of their own free will doesn't mean there aren't other subcultures among us who actually do make girls do stuff against their will. Right there is the power of a good orator. Jimmy opened my eyes.

If that wasn't impressive enough, this still sharp-witted 89 year-old man (Carter) uttered a phrase which completely amazed. While discussing the trafficking issue, Mr. Carter made a reference to brothel owners and pimps. And pimps! Jimmy knows they're two separate and distinct entities! 

On numerous occasions, I've observed that law enforcement agents and news reporters will refer to escort service owners as pimps. And I've objected. Pimps take all the money. Service owners split it in half (generally). I thought that only people who are in the business drew that distinction. But right there I found out that Jimmy Carter knows the difference as well! That's the first time I've ever heard any outsider understand the difference.

Whatever…if you missed it…I'm sure the segment will be on You Tube shortly (if it isn't right now). It's definitely worth viewing. Jimmy Carter rocks - regardless of his advancing years.

Sunday, March 23, 2014


Lazin' on a Sunday afternoon today, I tuned into Time Warner's new on-demand ePix channel and decided to check out "Breakfast At Tiffany's," an Academy Award winner from back before I had hair on my balls. I knew it was a big movie way back when and I'd actually never seen it so what the hell! I figured I'd give it a go. But before dedicating two hours of my life,  I read Leonard Maltin's review and came to discover that a) one of the lead characters is a call girl…and b) "Moon River," a song whose most famous rendition had an arrangement written by my own father, was the Oscar-winning song first performed in the movie. And that was it! It was a film worth checking into.

Most interesting of all is that this super-successful mainstream movie from 53 years ago wasn't just about one hooker…it was about two…in the personage of Audrey Hepburn as the call girl…and her paramour George Peppard as the gigolo/man whore being kept by an older woman. The movie itself was pretty much a contrived snore. I can't imagine why anybody liked it back then…or would like it now. 

But still what struck me was the scenario which included (again) not just one ho - but two - and of opposite sexes at that! You would think that 53 years later, we'd all get that the world's oldest profession is never going to go away and that maybe somebody in control might realize that the electorate would be much better served by legalizing a business which would generate huge amounts of revenue instead of LE chasing so many of its members, the great majority of which aren't criminal types or hurting anybody. 

I mean…how many times have big governmental agencies spent huge amounts of money chasing traffickers who (hello) aren't trafficking? It's simply a business with a huge amount of demand and a mostly professional set of providers responding to the call.  Does anybody gives a crap about this anymore? 

Years ago, I ran into the vice squad at an Asian place and after getting questioned was told to get lost. As I was unlocking my bike, here comes the sergeant walking toward the van which coincidentally was parked right by the sign where I had my iron steed locked up. I couldn't resist. 

After catching his eye, I made my plea. "You see what that place is like. You could eat off the floor it's so squeaky clean. Not to be a wise guy…but don't you think we'd all be better served if this industry was legalized and generating revenue for all the wars we're fighting?"

And ya know what he said? "I agree. It should all be located in one out-of-the-way industrial district. But it's a matter of educational law," was his answer. By the way…the educational law line is about girls giving massages without a license…which is supposedly what they were chasing that day.

Whatever…the point is that this individual (who was the vice squad leader) didn't necessarily believe in what he was doing. Not a good sign. My message? Wake up everybody - and make your voice heard. LEGALIZE ESCORTS and stop incarcerating non-criminals. It serves no purpose and makes no sense! 


OK! This post could suggest a few subjects. And maybe I'll address the title in a couple of them. But first…the one that gave me the idea to write this morning.

As a semi-retree with no wife, children, and almost no family in the immediate area, there are times when I have nothing to do - which is why I watch television and read a lot. But tonight is not going to be one of those nothing-to-do times. 

For starters, Sunday night is WICKED TUNA night. This has to be my favorite TV show. Normally, stations like The History Channel, Nat Geo, and Discover air each episode endlessly. But not so with Wicked Tuna. The network will telecast last week's show and this week's back to back only twice every week. And both of those happen on Sunday! The current season isn't available on "on demand" and thus if a fan misses consecutive Sundays, he's out of luck and will have to wait months before he can find the episode he missed. And given that I was too busy "getting busy" last Sunday night - and missed last week's installment…watching is a priority tonight! 

That would be fine except I have the same "meeting" tonight as I did last Sunday. That would be fine except…there's a Knick game on tonight…also "must see" TV for me! (Hopefully, Woody won't put in the scrubs too early this time around and almost blow the fucking game!)

But here's where modern TV saves the day. The Knicks are rebroadcast later tonight and tomorrow morning so theoretically, if I don't watch any news broadcasts, I'll be able to watch Wicked Tuna and then the Knicks. Problem solved except…and as I've said...I have the same date tonight that I had last Sunday! Oh no! Talk about juggling the balls! And worse…my fiancĂ© likes to convene about the time both Wicked and the Knicks will be on TV! What to do!

So forced with this harsh realization, my mind went into overload trying to juggle those balls - an it still is! The most likely scenario is to make the date either earlier or later than the customary time thus enabling me to watch Wicked tonight - and then the Knicks in the morning. Now I know what some guys are thinking: TIVO, schmuck! Answer: I don't have TIVO - and this might be the first time I wouldn't mind subscribing. But then what would I have to occupy my mind today? Anyway…not that earth-shattering a situation I'm sure we can all agree.

Moving on to a more literal interpretation of the title…I read voluminous reviews which include detailed descriptions rating oral sex guys and girls either give or receive. It's often a dealmaker or breaker in either relationships or encounters. Good head means they return. Bad head means they move on. But I never read about ball juggling technique. And I wonder why that is because that's pretty far up the importance (or impotence in my case) scale for me! 

Several years ago, I had a girlfriend who excelled in that arena. In fact, she wasn't oral at all and we didn't even go there. But I dealt because she was such an ultimate ball player I didn't mind. That girl is not only gone from my life…but gone from the Earth as well. And ever since, I've been searching for her replacement. At this point, I don't wait for a woman to initiate the ball playing hoping to find my next major leaguer. I request the activity! Some are hopeless…and some are decent. But they're just not the equal of that old girlfriend in style, grace, enthusiasm or stamina! I mean…I'd wake up to a ball game! Maybe I should run a personal ad or something seeking out a specialist. 

Whatever…an idea: Let's metaphorize our favorite activity. Ya know…like instead of the fabled five skill player who can hit, run, field, throw and hit for power…we have the woman who can fuck, suck, talk dirty, play ball and impress your mama! Hmm! Something else to think about today. I'm getting a headache already. I better stop!

Saturday, March 22, 2014


It's a given in our modern computer/cyber world: Every so often there's a glitch that turns our lives upside down. I remember years ago losing my Internet connection for days at a time thanks to Time Warner's lame infrastructure. Yikes! Try posting Craigslist or Backpage 18 hours a day with no Internet! I was bouncing from Mila's apartment (old colleague)...to Screw Magazine...to the offices of the NY Press...to the Den of Iniquity (dungeon) like a fucking nomad to get the work done. 

Well thank God I'm no longer in that world. No, I don't make the crazy money I used to but at least I can go to the movies…or eat at a restaurant…or get enough sleep for that matter...without having to worry about publishing somebody's fucking ad! 

So anyway…tech hell is mostly in the past for me. It pretty much only happens when I get a new computer and try to transfer all the files. Something always fucks up and drives you to distraction with the changeover. But then this week out of nowhere...tech hell struck. A friend of mine who isn't all that computer-savvy had a problem. Her domain name expired and she didn't know how to renew it. No big deal, right? Guess again! 

Two years ago, I convinced this individual that she needed a shorter url for her blog. The one she was using was like 20 odd letters! So I got her password…went into her dashboard…and bought a much easier to remember url for her. Easy as pie. Took about two minutes and cost all of ten bucks. Google has domain registrar partners. You don't even have to go to Go Daddy or another registrar to accomplish this mission. Because her regular computer guy was drunk…or fired…I volunteered to take on the renewal task. I mean…it was only going to take two minutes, right? Oh boy!

First I went to the dashboard where I'd originally purchased the domain figuring that's where I could pay for the renewal. Not happening as it turned out. For whatever reason, renewing a simple custom domain name from google involves climbing a learning curve steeper that the north face of Mt. Everest! Still...I began by googling "renew an expired google custom domain name" thinking I might find the answer. And what I got were several articles giving me specific instructions on how to access the Google admin console - which is what I was going to have to do to get this deal done. But try as I may…I could not access that console! I just went around and around in circles!

So then I went to a couple of forums to read about too many people who'd had the same problem. And in each case, I was referred to the same references over and over again...none of which worked! Already…I'd have been pulling my hair out - if I had any!

My biggest error in all this was not trusting my own intelligence…and continuing over and over again to read all the literature only to go around in circles literally dozens of times hoping that at some point a light bulb would click on and I'd finally figure out what was going wrong! 

At my wit's end, I threw my hands in the air and went to a Google product forum to pose my problem. This is how Google glitches have to be resolved. You can't get anybody on the phone at the corporation. It has to be done in their support forum.

So now I'm on and two Google employees are essentially directing me to do what I'd already done 30 times. And I keep telling them "I've done that. Try something else." Eventually they give up and give me a link to fill out a complaint at which point within 72 hours somebody will get back to me. You believe this shit?

To my surprise and just minutes later, my phone rang while I was taking a crap. I missed the call but a guy at Google left a message that he'd e-mailed me a link which should rectify the situation. Yeah, buddy. I'll believe that when I see it. When I went to my mailbox there was the link…the very same one that had taken me around and around in circles for two days! And guess what! This one actually got me to the "change your password" window I needed all along. 

After that, I was home free in just a few minutes of signing up for the new google apps account - which is a fairly complicated procedure everybody with a google custom domain name has to perform if they want to renew that domain. God forbid, you can do all this from the same place you bought the url. That would make too much sense. And then God forbid their new system should work so people like me don't squander two days trying to navigate the unnavigable! 

Well…it all worked out in the end and my friend was extremely thankful - and rewarded me appropriately. But I gotta tell ya. Wow! 

So here's the wrap up behind all this. If you have a blog in the Blogger format and you want a domain name that doesn't have the "blogspot" suffix, do not buy that domain name from google. It's a nightmare when renewal time comes. I know that first hand. Get that new domain name from a separate registrar like Go Daddy. It's only a couple of bucks more and it will save you a migraine the magnitude of which you won't believe. Just my advice for the day. I'm out.

Oh…and a final note. A commenter on Best GFE complimented the phone girl "Carrie" at Gentleman's Choice for her tag line "Morgan wants to check out your organ" placed under the photo of her pic. Two things there: First, there's nobody named Carrie who answers those phones. And second, I wrote the fucking tag line. So whoever Carrie is…she wasn't the author.