back when i used to dj more often

there were a lot of yuppies in the scene. thats for sure. leather jackets. whitened teeth. designer money clips. open tabs. green liquid in a martini glass and a gentle, non violent sway. yeah. twenty something urban up and comers. the target market demographic. this is what i saw when i looked at the dance floor.

at the time everything was easy and the economy was booming and the internet was the future and san francisco was the eye. time was sliding at a ferocious pace, pre millennium decadence was in full effect. nightclubs teemed with the so called entitled.

they wanted something placating and watery. something that complimented their stock options. they wanted something casual and agreeable, that wouldnt fuss their hair. they wanted deep house and they wanted it missionary style. but fuck that pillow biting shit, imma bang it out son.

i admit, i used to clear the floor sometimes, because i would come out the box swinging. laying down my hardest joints and most epic jams too early. but i learned after a while, how to fool the crowd. see, its all in the entry.

i immediately chop up the baselines, getting a bouncy atmosphere going. by my third or forth track, i have that bumpty working their hips. i keep that going for a bit, quickening the tempo every other mix, and then strip it down to just the drums. now the knees are bending and the heads are falling back and the hands start feeling before them. they are beginning to get naked and im glaring and im glaring. then i start to up the jack. and their bodies start to snap. i wait for it a bit, letting everybody work, and then i break the beat into electro before i drive into some heavy shit.

and when everybody reached the same page and i could put on any record i pleased it was like hell had reached heaven and i was born again.

i played techno when they wanted house and house when they wanted hip hop and hip hop when they wanted techno and soul all the time. i made them ache for it. i was stubborn and challenging and got booked pretty consistantly even though i was always late for gigs.

im thankful, because for being such a difficult fuck behind the turntables, san francisco always let me shake its booty.

now i'm in new york and i play pop and rock and R&B. i play hip hop and punk and baltimore club. now i play grime and electro and disco from the 80s. now i'm in new york and i barely play out at all. now i go to school and my nights are occupied and i cant carry my records because of my fragile spine. now i've stopped doing as many drugs because it takes so much time to recover. now i keep the volume down so that my neighbors dont complain. but that doesnt mean ive retired.

im going to be playing at a loft party in brooklyn and a club in the east village and a club near Pratt all in the next few weeks. then we got a monthly starting and a fashion line wants me to keep things funky at their shop in Soho on the weekends. watch out tricks, the decks are heating up again.

another drug post [in the form of a P.S.A.]

-in actuality, there isnt just one particular incident that signals the graduation from recreation to addiction. nope. usually there are two events that indicate your advancement in stage. and after you reach that second level, its a long way back to the first. so in doing my duty as a citizen, and looking out for my fellow brother, i will mark the tracks that make up the road of dependance. i'll even break it down by drug. consider this a p.s.a. for you know, nothing at all very valuable.

alcohol: the first sign is that you cant remember the last time you went a day without having a drink [this is usually the first sign of addiction, so get used to that phrase]. the second sign is when you cant go to sleep unless you are sort of drunk.

weed: the first sign is that you cant remember the last day you didnt burn some trees. the second sign is when you and a friend are talking about something that that they say happened two days ago but you swear up and down that had to happen at LEAST a month ago.

speed: the first sign is when you have stayed up for longer than one night. the second sign is when you cant remember the last time you went to sleep [yet are still trolling the internet in search for the "perfect clip"] .

cocaine: the first sign is when you cant remember the last day you didnt do a line at some point. the second sign is when you keep on doing lines after you realize the first sign.

heroin: the first sign is when you actually feel good doing it. the second sign is when you feel bad if you dont do it.

acid and ecstasy: if you have a first sign then that is enough for you and you need to lay down and drink some water lil guy.

crack: the first sign is you're smoking crack. the second sign is YOU'RE SMOKING CRACK!

painkillers [vicodin, percoset, oxycotton, etc.]: the first sign is you cant remember the last day you didnt pop a pill. the second sign is when you cant remember the last time you took a shit. [the elusive third sign is when you simultaneously become addicted to laxatives].

xanax: the first sign is when you wake up one morning, sad about everything, realize your life is in upheaval, and take a pill. the second sign is not remembering why you were so sad in the first place and taking another pill.

and that is about all i can consider myself expert on. this post was brought to you by my last spliff, my empty wallet, and the dread of tomorrow. thank you, and good day.

and a special shout out to amelia for her birthday [belated as it may be]. and a shout out to sam in rememberance of his site [a moment of silence please]. and a shout out to zaida just because [keep killing it like kane homie].

back when i was R&B

there was a time when i wasnt so scruffy looking. when i didnt look like a homeless lumberjack on angeldust or a hip hop sasquatch that just woke up. in fact, i used to be what the homies called a "pretty motherfucker," right before they punched me in the face. i used to give a shit how i looked. i used to be straight R&B.

of course this was just one of my many phases, before i turned into a backpacking underground hip hop pansy and before i turned into a glowstick twirling acid and extacy munching raver punk. before i turned into a fingernail painting all black wearing indie rock nerd and before i turned into a brooding techno DJ chump. before all that shit. this was yet another one of the many identities that make up the sparkling character that is I: jon.

yep. for a little while, i was a well groomed, fast talking, quick witted, panty liberator. from what everyone said, i most resembled oft forgotten, talent deficient, late 80s crooner Al B. Sure! chicas would faint at the sight of me. girls would trip over themselves just to wipe up the activator juice that dripped from my head. pregnant women had their water break when i entered the room [this proved an ill fated curse one day when walking past planned parenthood. man, that was a real mess]. if and when i went to class, my teachers would forget their lesson plan and just gaze longingly into my brown eyes. guys, upon shaking my hand, would get sexually confused and either run away or take a swing at me. -teenagers, i would sigh, watching them flee or wiping blood from my nose.

but my perfectly manicured good looks and the vapid bunch it attracted eventually bored me, and i chucked the silk shirts and loafers, let my beard grow and threw on a hat. what stuck with me, even though the image got abandon, was the music. most deservingly, Prince's masterpiece "Sign o' The Times." that didnt come out when i was in my R&B phase, but during said phase i listened to it more than anything else, and it definitely defined what i aspired to illustrate with my deftly crafted appearance.

and the moral of this stupid post: i gotta do something about my hair. im getting sick of it. i think im gonna dread it or something. you ladies better hope i dont get some curl activator though, if i do, i advise you carry another pair of underwear around with you just in case i cross your path. it would suck to walk around the rest of the day in squishy drawers. oh yeah, and go listen to sign o the times, it is probably better than what your listening to right now.

the wait

what was that? oh, wow! hey! the Future! hows it going? its so weird bumping into you here. you know, in the passport line at the post office. and behind me at that. who would of thunk it? the Future, behind me, in a line! its so ironic, isnt it? i would just assume since you, being the Future and all, can essentially always be ahead of everybody, you would at least be at the front of the line. dang!

hows that even work? oh. yeah, i hear ya. fucking government bureaucracy. it even gives you, the Future, the fuckin run-a-round. sucks. huh? yeah. oh, can you cut in with me? sorry man, that would just be rude to everyone else. but we can talk over these two people, dont worry, they've been here for ages, they wont mind.

so you look good. advanced age suits you. you been working out? trying to trim it down for the image? i know, it seems everyone pays attention to the Present or the Past these days. no one even mentions the Future anymore. but i mean, you will always have those great days in the 30's, with the World Fair and all that. and the 50s were good to you too, with every new appliance being hailed as the "way of the Future" [huh? oh, i know. to be honest, i dont think any of those factory made domestication tools really did you any justice. just because an oven has a light in it doesnt really make it futuristic. i think you'd agree with me on that]. and lest we forget your hey day: the 80s. jeez, how we all long for that future again.

yeah, i wouldnt worry to much Future, youre still tops in my book. and im sure you'll start to be considered more often in the ..er,. the you. haha. yeah, you'll be considered more often in the YOU. wow. i never thought about it that way. do you ever trip out when you think to yourself, "dude, im am totally THE FUTURE!" man, that must really flip your wig!

anyway, so as i was saying - what? oh yeah the line is moving. ill take a step. no worries. sorry for "holding you up." haha. holding up the Future. thats crazy! so what was i saying.. oh yeah, so i was wondering if you could like, keep an eye on a few things for me. i wont tell you to, you know, make anything happen, because i know thats out of your jurisdiction and shit. but it would be really cool if you can make a few things NOT happen to me. know what im sayin? there are just a few things that i sort of want to be sure of in the ... well you know.

like what? oh well, um... for one, in like, 5 years or so i definitely do not want to be smoking any more. im getting kinda bored with it and i dont want it to become like this, ugly ass mole that i cant afford to have removed. you know, i dont wanna be an old man with gray hair and a wicked wheeze constantly hacking up gooey, pea green phlegm and spitting it into a napkin i carry around in my pocket all day. that would just be lame. you feel me Future? gimme some dap on that.

lets see, what else... oh yeah! did you know that i recently got a letter in the mail from an aunt ive only met twice in my life? yeah, totally. and guess what it had in it, pictures from san francisco, circa 1975. thats right, of my mom and [get this] my dad! were you aware of this shit? oh, i guess that was handled by the Present and the Past, so really, why would you know? oh well, anyway, that was the first time i had ever seen any image of my father whatsoever. i had never seen him before. at all. ever. i know, trippy!

what did he look like? oh i dont know. average white guy i guess. slightly brooding. he wasnt really smiling which was curious. come to think of it, he looked eerily familiar. but i couldnt place where i recognized the face from. his name was John. according to my mother, he was definitely NOT my father. and were he ever to tell me otherwise i should not believe him. but who can really tell if what she said was fabricated or not? i mean, she was schizophrenic. anyway, can you try to make sure that, if he and i ever meet, hes not a mime or a trannie or a scientologist or some shit. that would really tear open an already scabbed and forgotten wound. im not saying i need to meet him, but if i do, you know, make sure hes got a clean shirt on.

and oh yeah! before i forget, when L-bonita leaves here and goes back to california... huh? yeah, in a few months. come on, you KNEW that! dont try to play dumb. anyway, can you just, you know, see to it that i get through the loss ok? i know she'll be there for me and we'll never part and all that but i just have this feeling ya know? i mean, when im around her sometimes its like im a giant pane of shattered glass, and with just one soft breath from her i'll fall and break into a million pieces. and its scary you know? not to get all pussy on ya Future, i mean, i can handle myself fine. but sometimes i feel weak and brittle, and i dont want to break apart with her gone. you understand right? plus, if im doing ok than i can be strong if she needs me. and- oh, the lines moving again.

im sorry, i dont mean to ask to much of you Future. i know youre a busy guy and all. probably a bunch of douchebags sitting around asking for your help right now. i just need to get this off my chest while you are here. never know when i'll see you again, especially BEHIND me in line. ha! thats just classic! oh, and since im at it, can you see to it that the next time im getting some serious head in a downtown alleyway i ask what gender they are AFTER i blow my load? its just awkward when i do it before or during. and i dont want to do anymore mega stepped on drugs that put me in bad, introspective moods. thats wack. and lets see... i want to remember to floss. and oh yeah, i want to have more spirituality, and not such a gloomy outlook on life. and i also want-

huh? oh i see... the line is moving again. sorry guys. guess the passport line waits for no man, not even if that man is the Future. haha! oh, im just fucking with ya dude. tell ya what, go ahead, get in front of me. nah, dont worry about it. ive been here forever, it doesnt matter. i can wait a little longer.

p.s. but i cant wait any longer to thank all you ones and zeroes that wished me a happy birthday! you guys are the Future!

special days: then and now

each year it seems my birthday gets more and more insignificant. ive gone from not thinking much about it to not really caring about it to forgetting it all together. not that im ignoring the splendors of age, i just dont get excited about celebrating them all on one particular day. its probably rooted in some childhood birthday disappointment from years past; a defense from reliving an earlier calamity that has left me scarred and timid. but that doesnt stop my "special day" from arriving each year, like an expected catastrophe that doesnt quite meet the level of damage it's promised, leaving a frustrating mess to clean up after its gone.

my birthday isnt until tomorrow, but i thought it would be interesting to go over what my birthday was like 5 years ago and what i predict it will be like tomorrow night. i havent changed much, but im sure you will note the subtle differences in how i roll now, and how i rolled then.

5 years ago -6pm: i left the office two hours earlier, citing my birthday as legitimate reason to exit before im technically off the clock. ive already had a few cocktails at a bar in downtown San Francisco with a couple friends. we head to the bathroom in twos and crush up lines on the back of the toilet, i read the walls to take my mind off the drip. then we go outside and slyly pass around a bowl while smoking cigarettes. dinner plans have been scratched as our appetite has been deadened.

5 years later -6pm: i left the office 45 minutes early so that i could make class at 6. i have read most of the assignment and finish what i havent on the subway ride to campus, downtown new york. on my way there i stop at the store and grab an apple to help keep me awake. i smoke a cigarette before entering the building.

5 years ago -9.30pm: i head back home from the bar with two friends in tow and a few to meet me at the palace. we stop at a dealers flat on the way to pick up another bag, when i tell him that its my birthday he packs a gram of meth into his homemade water pipe and tells me to smoke it slowly but not too slowly because he doesnt want his roomate to come home and see that hes still dealing. his eyes are darting and the room is cramped with broken keyboards and unfinished art. it smells of sweat and burnt plastic. i smoke as much as i can before i begin to get nervous and feel myself about to vomit. then we grab the bag we came for and head to the spot.

5 years later -9.30pm: i get out of class where it took all my energy to stay awake and then even more to fend of urges of suicide through the insufferably boring 3 and a half hour class. i get on the subway headed back into brooklyn and read text during the ride. i stop at a bodega and pick up some beer and the guy behind the counter talks on his cell phone during the whole transaction.
i wonder if i should pick up some food before i hit the palace and decide i dont feel like making a decision so leave.

5 years ago -12am: i happen to have a gig the night of my birthday at a bar in the lower haight. all the drinks are free and im sucking them down. my mind is rushing from a cigarette to a girls ass then the next record and another line. i flooding myself with alcohol; thinking [another girls ass and another cigarette and pornography and a record and a cigarette and a drink and a memory and another then another]. someone slips me a valium and a joint and because its my birthday and im the dj i get to smoke behind the booth.

5 years later -12am: after a couple xanex and a bottle of wine everything get loose and then looser. we get the check and L-bonita foots the bill but i get the tip and i tip a little generously because im feeling like it makes everything easier to overtip, as if that is some great solution to all lifes trials: to tip generously. and she takes my hand and we stumble outside and hail a taxi to a bar in the lower east side. some friends are meeting us for a nightcap. once there everything slowly unspins and the drinks are free and we hit the bathroom in twos and do key bumps of cocaine to help wake ourselves up. we go outside and smoke a few cigarettes while slyly passing around a bowl.

5 years ago -3am: a girl that i flirt with at clubs takes me to her car to do a few bumps and smoke a cigarette. in the middle of my second smoke she unzips my pants and takes me into her mouth and it feels like a harmony blooming from outside in and i reach down and put my fingers in her and we both moan and even though the windows are fogged up i can see silhouettes of people as they pass by slowly.

5 years later -3am: after having pretty good sex with L-bleezy, where she encouraged that i do whatever i want to her or have her do whatever i want to me, i let her fall asleep then go to my office where i read a few blogs and think about posting but turn off my computer before i do.

5 years ago -6am: they start selling alcohol again and i decide to just go to work from the afterhours club im at. a couple hours later, this will sound less like a good idea and i go home, leave a message that im sick, and masturbate furiously until i eventually drink myself into a restless afternoon sleep.

5 years later -6am: ive been in a deep sedated sleep and snoring like a monster for 3 hours, ive already sent an email to work explaining i wouldnt be in the next morning.

of course all tomorrow nights activities are speculative. it could go down like i predicted here or it could not. who knows? i do know that when i turned 25 i was already 2 days into a bender and that bender didnt really end until i turned 27. now im turning dirty 30 and my bender is books and it probably wont end until im 35. hey, at least i still DJ.

wash your mind

so i went through my sitemeter and decided it would be interesting to see what search words or phrases had brought innocent people to this site. what kind of quest would one be on that would result in them coming here. it was quite an eye opening experience, one i think we can all learn a little from. i am at the end of some curious roads. here are a few of the words that lead to the man:

old hairy ass
as anyone that has read this blog knows by know, i LOVE old hairy ass. the older the ass, the hairier the ass, the sexier the ass. thats my motto. young, bald asses just dont do it for me anymore. First name that comes to mind when i think of hot ass: Rue McClanahan. when i think about it, in another 30 years my girlfriends ass is gonna be SO OLD, and SO HAIRY, that it gives me a boner just thinking about it.

how do i make her horny
i have know idea, all women are different. some want you to buy them flowers and to maybe gently nibble on their ear over a nice dinner, some women want you to squat over a glass table and take a dump while they lay under it. it takes all kinds. one thing ive noticed usually works for me: vodka and rohypnol. makes em putty in your hands. good luck!

meth whore tales
ive got a million of these. there was the 6 day binge in '98 that lead to what is known as the "Great Anal Crusades" and ended in what will forever be remembered as "Black Wednesday". There was a crushed up morning with this filipino trannie and her endless collection of trance cd's. there was that gig in the hills of oakland at the home of a dominatrix on house arrest. i think that party is still going on.

demi moore bush
grand. aint it?

tossing the salad
what does the tossing? well, usually your tongue. oh.. well, whats in the salad? um.. mostly anus.

vagina cornrows
i dont know who was searching for vagina cornrows but a few things came to mind when i read that phrase. 1) you would need a bush of demi moore proportions to get a nice braid going. 2) one would have to have someone else do this and if they didnt, would they braid them up towards the belly? 3) if you went to a salon and asked someone to cornrow your vagina, how much would they charge? 4) i bet you can find cornrowed vagina in prison. unshaven bush + years of nothing to do = fun with pubic hair.

real black love
what do you know about real black love?

pre-caffein kicks

and it was a typical tuesday night indeed. the club was red and the Dj was playing a really good set of worldly sounding hippie electronica circa san francisco, 1998. i had a pint of beer in my hand and about 40 ounces more in my bloodstream. we were at some club in brooklyn at a small release party for a boring record and the girls were cute but the music kept me fixed.

i wrote that on tuesday night [obviously] when i got home from said club. nothing terribly eventful happened, which would explain the brief synopsis. i had a few drinks and saw some people i just barely knew. i said hello but couldnt remember their names so didnt get engaged in conversation. i had some more drinks. i bobbed my head to the beat a little. you know, the typical fare.

ive been old and jaded and boring and busy. ive been rocking back and forth on the F train reading a book or staring at peoples shoes. i do that when im on the subway sometimes to pass time. i'll check out peoples footware and try to guage how easy they have it in life. i try to put a face to the feet without actually looking up. how many wrinkles the person has around their eyes can sometimes be measured by how worn their soles are. or at least thats what i like to imagine when im alone and tired and swaying to and fro on subway. when i have no books to read and no tunes to listen to and right there in front of me is a great metropolis of human hooves. i like shoes, they protect your feet when youre kicking ass. plus, if your leg gets tired of kicking, you can take them off and throw them at people, thats always a pleasent surprise when in the middle of an ass whuppin.

i'll put up a proper post sometime later, until then maybe you should enjoy a few list because you know, everyone enjoys a good list. also, if you support the crusade against filth than you are at the wrong site and eventually the smell of your shit on my dick is gonna make us both vomit. seriously, that shit stinks dude.

im so tired

im so tired even the new sigur ros album is too "rocking" for me right now.

im so tired it took both hands to push an elderly lady down the stairs this morning.

im so tired ive got to have a running start to take a shit.

im so tired that when a girl walked past me with incredible hips and my friend said "wow, she has an amazing ass," i was too lazy to turn around and just had to take his word for it.

im so tired it took only one hand for an elderly woman to push me down the stairs this morning.

im so tired that if i were in front of the television set and showing was an all day infomercial on the miracles of colon cleansing i wouldnt have the energy to change the channel.

im so tired i have to let out a grunt of exertion everytime i blink.

im so tired someone started to tell me a story of how they were lying in a hammock smoking a cigarette and i was like "whoa! slow down there turbo, i cant take that much excitement right now." but i didnt really exclaim it, i kinda of let the words fall out of my mouth in a horse whisper.

im so tired if someone told me to bend over then put on a rubber glove and said "now this is going to hurt a little," i would yawn and be all 'whatever dude.'

im so tired i started this post on saturday and its tuesday and im hoping to maybe have it done by thursday.

im so tired it sort of hurts.

i wanna take a nap.

Me, Lil Kim, and an Old Ladys chin.

its been a while since ive posted hasnt it? youre probably thinking to yourself -is jon ok? did one of those big boned hookers he mentioned choke him to death in the throws of asphyxiated passion and leave his slippery, shiny, lubricated body in the basement of a midtown hotel? did he finally realize his dream and get a gig sanitizing the leotards for cirque de sole? did he just decide to give it all up and join the NHL? where could he be?

well get your panties out of your ass, im right here. because its been so long im just going to draw up a list of things ive done in the past few days, it makes it much easier than scanning all the newspaper articles or linking all the blogs that cover the many fascinating activities i engage in on the daily. anyway, here is what went down with me:

-i started the semester at school, and maybe this is because its the adult fraction of the university system, but all the women in my classes look like they have had about 8 babies and the men look like bus drivers [that have just finished yet another very large mayonaisse and bacon sandwich].

-i went to a barbecue at my boss' house and ended up drinking too many glasses of wine and doing too many lines of cocaine. this made me feel like a pile of shit for two days after [speaking of shit, the next day i took a big fat one and then kinda admired it for a second before flushing the toilet, it was impressive. you should have been there]

-i saw images of people that looked like family members of mine walking in a daze through the nightmare that is now new orleans and i broke down and cried. i realized just how alone we, as black people, are in america. i cried and thought of how no one that could wield any power [i.e. politicians, big corporations] were down there. how people, poor people, and mostly black people, were left in a horror to rot in their own filth. i cried because the people there just wanted to see a clean face, a face that would be of some hope, to tell them that things were going to be ok, even if it was a lie, and how they just needed to know they werent forgotten while their babies were raped and their missing family members floating corpses decomposed in the flooded streets [i'm usually pretty detached from these things, figuring the world is filled with suffering and thats the end of that. but for some reason this one deeply affected me. it just shouldnt have gone down that way].

-i finished the newest Brett Easton Ellis book and the best line in it was, "First the man takes a drink, then the drink takes a drink, then the drink takes the man," and the rest of it was written like a bad Steven King novel.

-i swatted the bottom of an old womans chin, just to watch it flap around. it was totally worth it.

-i paid Source magazine 15 thousand dollars [or, more accurately, the equivalent to that in "tales of adventure"] to give Lil Kims new album 5 mics, rendering it an instant classic. hopefully this will make her enough money to retouch all her plastic surgery when she gets out of the pen. i did it for america, not for her. no one wants to see a saggy Lil Kim.

-i watched some amateur porno, but didnt see anyone i knew. i never do, yet i keep on watching. i am truly a model of hope and ambition.

-i remembered my birthday is coming up in a week and i felt the walls of time folding in above me.

-i watched tv and waited for things to get better and i avoided blogging like the plague.

thats about it, if you can think of anything else i did, please send me an email or leave it in the comment box.

keepin it greasy

So i use Firefox when im browsing the internet at work. and i just discovered they have this nifty little extension called Stumble Upon that you can download. what it is is a button in the toolbar you can click and be randomly forwarded to a site that you have already predetermined you might be interested in [there is a catagory page you fill out to filter the sites to just your liking].

because im bored with blogging right now im going to just put a bunch of links to random shit i stumbled across while ... er... stumbling. i doubt i post this weekend, i just got 2 grams of speed and a bottle of xanax in the mail so i'll probably spend the next 72 hours in a hotel room with a tube of astroglide, the latest issue of Cat Fancy magazine, and steady stream of big boned hookers. so enjoy the links bitches, ill catch you on the flippity flop.

-check it out, a massive list of dj mixes, most genres are leaning toward electronic music, which is for chumps. but you knew that, right?

-a hacker text translator. 7H12 12 pr377Y PHuCk1ng l4m3

-a childrens book that is not really a childrens book but a manual for scientologist aliens to take over the world. here is a sample lyric: "Pink Zogg will supervise population cleansing." you dont even want to know who or what Pink Zogg is. [hint-it gave birth to you]

-a collection of images from the 70s. kitsch is boring by the way.

-an article on Black Flag that makes you wish henry rollins were doing less lame VH1 appearances and silly hollywood movies and more punching people in the forehead and rubbing shit on his fans faces all G.G. Allen style.

-a really cool online art piece that lets you zoom into a painting so far you forget what the original painting looks like.

-images of drunk white people. you so crazy whitey!

-proof that the writers of the simpsons are funnier than you. i tried to told ya.

-photos of women you will never ever have sex with. again, i tried to told ya.

-this guy had two penises and what looks like a leg coming out of his crotch. damn hes lucky. can you imagine all the chicks id be doing if i had TWO dicks?!

you know come to think of it. Stumble Upon aint all that. those links were so so at best. pfft.

later tricks.