A Day in the Life of The Mighty Hankster

Ode to Cher

2008-11-10T01:09:00.000-08:00

Hi hordes of readers, remember Linda, the nutsy artist with the bi level two tone haircut and the attitude? She told her mom that she reminded me of Cher. Her mom was horrified and motified and I ask "pour quoi"? "Per che?", even...

Cher has always been sexy as all hell and she has been the source material for my childhood, adolescent, post adolescent and young adult fantasies. I still have photos and clippings of Cher when she was a highly "wankable to" rock chick....sigh...why does Cher speak to my condition? well, bring tall, half armenian and cherokee indian helps, those huge almond shaped eyes and gorgeous legs help, having tattoos when only biker rock chicks had tatts helps, oh that picyure of Cher leering like a fox in a steamroom waring a diaphanous white number , barefoot showing off her perfect ankles, those feet argh and a tattoo f a turtle or somethng on her ankle...ohhhhh Jesus Mary and Joseph!.... Cher is so sexy that she sweats a mixture of estrogen, nitrous oxide and amyl nitrate- that's hot, I could ask Cher to wear a piece of absorbent material in her panties for a week of intense arena tours, take the material, stuff it in a gasmask and clean house with that on, just breathing it all in. Oh Cher...so independent- there's a role model. I can't say a lot of her music I like, she had the same potential as Neil Diamond..she could have been a real ROCKER buther career went the same way: top 40 through and through, an excellent performer (despite the warbling) delivering hits but lacking in street and critical alternative press credibility to be taken as seriously as less talented others, staying buddies with dearly departed ex husband and mentor, statesman Sonny Bono helped, marrying nutsy Gregg Allman helps, picking up young guys helps, oh man, the clincher was screwing Bon Jovi guitarist Ritchie Sambora and treating him like a disposable dildo, my immediate thoughts were a) wow, she is 20 years older than the guy b) she's just hosing him down because she likes bad boys with guitars and c) I wonder if I could ever be Cher's boy toy, I mean, I'm no knockout, but under the right light and if I can manage not to talk a mile a minute, I'm ok. Maybe Cher could throw me a mercy fuck...

To this day, that Sambora guy can thank Cher for making his name known- i'm mortified and horrified at the longevity and insipidness of Bon Jovi, boy and to this day, whenever i see a picture of those meathead mooks from jersey, I always look for Ritchie "Sambuca" and mumble to myself "Cher's boy toy".

Let's see...back to Cher...having fake tits installed helps, especially when it was uncommon and especially when they look so friggin' luscious and inviting. doing whatever the fuck she wants and doing it well helps, being an excellent actress helps, not having self destructed helps, not having been co-opted and canonized as a gay male icon helps (by not self destructing nor being a "victim" like Judy Garland or Lady Di or Amy Winehouse, the gay victim diva with a broken wing worship positioning potential dims in comparison) - being upfront about her sexuality without compromising her credibility as a performer and living her life the way she wants helps. Hooooo she probably fucks like a warrior goddess, is it just me or are all these truths believed to be self-evident?

So if anybody has a problem with Cher, they better come up with some rational, intelligent reasons to rag on her. Being cheesy sometimes isn't reason enough....look at Kylie!!! I'd be quite proud having a daughter who was compared to Cher: a bad girl with a great look, a set of brains with extra gray matter and a long sparkling career! I could think of a lot worse people to be compared to...like what's his names running mate...oh what's her face...Michelle Palin...Michaela Palin...oooohhhh.... I HATE when this happens...

Next: why I have made my peace wth Melanie Griffith. All is forgiven, Mel, g'wan ...come to Papa.

Another Uneventful Day in Paradise

2008-11-02T12:28:00.000-08:00

I told Munsie that I wanted to see other people and she accepted it but not without being miserable about it, which of course made me feel miserable, but I think that in general, both of us can handle it, plus, she has such an advantage over all these other women they can’t really compete- Munsie is in a league all to herself.

Let’s take this leggy Argentinean one, let’s call her Carolina for the sake of convenience. I met her one day when I sprouted a temporary testicle. There she was on the subway, all legs, with like a greek mini toga type affair, long fingers, long neck, a bit of overbite- I love overbite and I liked the way she clutched her tobacco and her lil phone but I didn’t want to go right up and chat her up, even though my three balls were urging me on. But she got off at my stop, I was on my way to pick my motorcycle up and drive it from Barcelona to the Harley distributor up the coast, my clutch was fried…and then Carolina just crossed the street and there she was, walking three feet away from me, so I chatted her up.
Then I signed her up to my Facebook friends, we went out to a fancy restaurant, I dropped a bundle and dropped my napkin to catch her shoes up close- very nice peep toed affairs, slingback heels with a nice flower design and a small platform, very nice indeed. She seemed pretty classy , but for reasons I can’t seem to explain, maaan there was just no spark whatsoever. Whatever- we went to a couple of gallery openings, she came by to the Badalona Basecamp when it was still summery and so on and so on. But he thing that kinda creeps me out is her Facebook photos and her kinky roommate. You just start adding shit up and you realize that what we have on our hands is an individual surrounded by unsavory characters.

The Facebook photos show Carolina in a series of poses and situations around what I would call, for lack of a better expression “a clubbing environment”- going to a club, indeed, weren’t these places just called discos at one point? And before that discotheques? And before that, nightclubs? I like the concept of a nightclub, you know, the Cotton Club, Cab Calloway, speakeasies , gin joints, reefer madness, the whole magilla but these scenes are just too decadent for me at this stage of the game. Hell, I was never a fan of decadence in public, Lord knows I know about decadence on a one to one level, but public decadence is just not my thing. So all of her photos are poses of people making like they are having a lot of laughs in clubbing environments- she’s always surrounded by either two types of men; middle aged saggy jowly bald types and young gay men. I saw a collection of photos in her Facebook and Myspace and suddenly I saw pictures of us together and I was so relieved to see a guy who looked reasonable normal and even devilishly handsome by comparison: me!!! But the rest of it kinda spooks me. Being magnanimous and giving her the benefit of the doubt, I chalk it up to her job: she’s a fashion scout and a model’s representative, so she’s always parading fashion models around. I call these fashion models greyhounds because they’re so skinny and doleful looking and they all walk with that little bounce that greyhounds and salukis have, you know? Man, fashion models really do nothing for me- I’d rather ride a sexy farm tractor than an English racer over railroad tracks, if you catch my drift.
So the last night out, we went over to see some blood and guts homoerotic art gallery opening- it was her, her roommate, the roommates date, a greyhound who looked a lot like Uma Thurman and her boyfriend, Carl, the guitarist. Never mind Uma, never mind Carl, never mind the roommates boyfriend, let’s focus on the roommate.

Tall, long legs, great ass, lean ponytailed blondie Dutch woman with white jeans, a short black leather jacket and a pair of drop dead red patent leather dominatrix boots, we’ll call her Monik, for the sake of convenience. The gallery was closed, it was the day after the opening so I guess everybody had been out clubbing and nobody was around to open up the gallery. You’d have thought that selling homoerotic semi fascist photos showing genitals and viscera would be difficult enough under maximum store opening hours, but with the gallery closed, well, I rest my case. Maybe some twisted fairy collector...maybe an ad agency Art Director. Anyway, we went over to a plaça and hung out. This Monik is alright, I kinda like this chick, but I always get along great with the Dutch, they have excellent social skills and are funny as Hell.

Now I had met this Monik a few nights before, I dunno what went on, but I met Carolina with a friend of hers at some bar again , and we went up to her place and this Monik was around. I didn’t notice much, I saw that she had flat little titties and no nail polish on, her hair pulled back, no makeup, a sweat suit on. She looked like a very bookish administrative person at a publishing company; naturally my cock made like a frightened turtle.
Later that night, Carolina told me that when Monik isn’t painting her artwork, which I instinctively dislike, she supplements her income as a dyed in the wool Domme. And I’m suppossd to kep my mouth shut about that.

Cut back to the scene in front of the art gallery when I notice Monik’s red patent bondage booties.
“hey those boots are out of control”
“yeah I like fetish”
“ah haaaaaa…yeah I feel naked without my motorcycle boots”
I should have probed more in that department, and I figured for somebody who wants to keep it low key, she certainly had a funny way of dodging the issue. But you know, whatever. Carolina told me that this woman gets money to tie men up and leave them in a cage overnight and what have you and that she beat the shit of them.
Sometimes Carolina has to help out by watching over the slave when he spends the night tied up in a cage. I’m not gonna get into the big night out with this crowd, I just know that I was smoking one joint after another because between Carolina, Uma Thurman, and the Bondage Babe, I was volleying between disaffected indifference and morbid fascination. So that was the last night out.
Cut to another friend of mine, we’ll call her Itzel, for the sake of convenience. Itzel is a gorgeously cute young Mexican photographer/camera person, a little lesbian friend of mine who has been giving me pointers on how to improve my boudoir behavior, or, how to drive a woman nuts in bed, and I have been practicing my new techniques on Munsie; so far Itzel’s suggestions have been right on the money- Itzel and I like the same kind of women, like to do the same stuff in bed and have the same one track mind: we are both complete sluts. I could be Itzel’s father and I love her like a sister- Itzel is a female shaman; a shamanita- she is a brilliant, funny, sincere, affectionate friend and I really consider myself fortunate that we know each other. She has been a real friend. A real friend.
Itzel is no stranger to the wonderful world of BDSM either , she has been a bondage model and her photos are one that Facebook: Itzel will screw a guy for 600 € . One day, Itzel got mixed up with some kind of apparently high class prostitution group, I don’t really know the details and I don’t really care. It turned out that the whole thing was a setup where the Madame in question would lure in older or ugly or desperate prostitutes and have them work in a flat and charge them room plus half of whatever they could squeeze out of the John. The Madame told Itzel that the fee for screwing a guy was 40€. In fact, the Madame told Itzel, there was a John waiting in the next room and all she had to do was look through the one way mirror and go get him. Itzel looked and there was like the personification of the Monster career webpage mascot sitting there, plus for 40€ she can go and I quite “screw the mother that should have aborted him” so Itzel backed down and the Madame told her that all she had to do was beat him with a riding crop.

Anybody guess why I’m writing this? Because the Madame in question was Monik and the flat was the one I met Monik in; in other words, Carolina’s flat.
Talk about a small world!
Look, I’ll watch porno, I’ll eyeball prostitutes on the street, I’ve had some pretty sick encounters. Am I supposed to think that Carolina just happens to live there? Even if she just happens to live there, it's certainly not an environment conducive to a freedom of spirit, I would think, so at the very last, it's a stressful place to be around. I'm not better than anybody. I'm not judging anybody. But I choose to distance myself from inherently negative environments.

These days, I’m surrounded by positive events and people, by plenty of positive vibes, or energy or karma or however the Hell you want to call it. Do I really want to drag myself through the sewer…again? Probably not.

A Memorable Thursday

2008-10-14T15:12:00.000-07:00

Hooooeee! Last Thursday was nice- Munsie, we'll call her Munsie for the sake of convenience and I decided to go swing down to the Badalona Basecamp for a nice dinner. I got to Munsie's place at 6:00, I was hanging out at the Chinese bar downstairs having a bivo and a smoke and kinda looking at the bartender, a remarkably fine looking specimen, as androgynous as androgynous gets, almost as bad as that Marilyn Manson record where he ditched the Addams Family look and opted for a more Alien with a Hard-on look, only not an alien, no visible hard-on yet almost no visible masculine traits whatsoever- he was watching some Taiwanese romance or something, chatting in Chinese. I was posing like Steve McQueen in the doorway when Munsie rode in on her bicycle. I saw her smile, I saw the fishnet stockings, I saw those big tits, I saw dinner reservations going to Hell in a hand basket and I saw myself back in the saddle again.

We got upstairs and had our clothes off faster than you can say "how much wood would a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood". Now, look, I've never been a big fan of blowjobs, basically because it used to kind of scare me- call it castration anxiety... but then, I never really had a good one- blowjob that is...well, maybe a handful of times, but nothing to write home about you know? I've seen some pretty wild ones on the web but figured nobody who'se ever blown me has ever done it to my liking, so I guess I'm over the blowjob obsession.

And Munsie , the first couple of times, wasn't going to change that. Well, I don't know what the Hell happened; maybe she did like Robert Johnson, and went off and made a pact with the devil and came back as the blowjob equivalent of the greatest blues guitarist the world has ever known because Munsie has definitely picked up the slack. So that was a nice surprise.

Next project was to go drive out to Badalona, drop off the bike and stroll over to the restaurant, Badalona's only joint with live Jazz, and that's what we did. We smoked a joint on the way over, got lost, asked directions, got found and plotzed in right on time. It was upstairs- a room set up like a fancy VFW hall, only teeny weeny by comparison. Long tables on one side, to accomodate groups of 6 and a small table for 2 or 4 on the other side, where we sat. The music they were piping in was the usual crap; Stan Getz and Astrud Gilberto, Louis Armstrong, I wonder what they would slap on after hours, maybe a nice Burl Ives spoken word thing, I dunno. As soon as I saw the three musicians come in, I know right there and then, that this was going to be a night of wincing. Oh they were heavy handed, oh man, they just didn't have the beat, no passion- they were reading partitions, the trumpet guy looked about as hip as a small claims bailiff and I saw a big dopey one with a slap bass and another guy clumsily mauling some guitar. Whew, I've come a long way- hey, I had been listening to Art Pepper and Sun Ra recently, I love wacky jazz but this stuff 3 feet away from me was just too insane. The trumpet/fluegelhorn guy blew timidly and consierably badly- I couldn't tell if he was just trying to be sparse or he was sparing me from more pain. I could hear the guitarist timidly stretch the solo in a sort of ever so slightly west coast influenced foray into the unknown, like a leery cat pussyfooting over an unsure territory. Every once in a while he would jump off key and then scurry back to his little scale. I 'm glad I wasn't looking at them, I would have laughed in their faces and that would have been uncool. The food was ok- too expensive for what they dished out, but then again I ordered a rice dish they called "rice and seafood rigmarole "or something and it was just a paella- bland. Munsie had a nice sauteed tuna slab and broiled veggies, she enjoyed her dinner more than me and overall we had a good time.

We wandered home, grope all along the way, that Munie is such a nice fit- so beefy- we got in the rack and I tried top give Munsie a bit of the hair of the dog, but we were too tired- that's what sleeping was for and that brought us into Friday morning, which was a very satisfying and enjoyable wakeup call. The weekend was just starting.

the blog police are hot on my trail

2008-10-07T15:48:00.000-07:00

it seems that i can't talk about sex or drugs, even the light stuff on this blog- i guess if i were to write about guns and stuff, it woud be ok, but a little goo and everybody gets all bent out of shape- the blog police are reviewing theis sweet blog o' mine to determine if the content is inappropriate.
my solution will be to get my own domain and load my content onto a friends server- we'll call him Jyri.

Linda, Miriam and Huggy Bear

2008-10-07T03:33:00.000-07:00

I went to a flea market a few months ago, bored and looking for any reason to get out of the house, away from my estranged wife and set up my unwanted clothes and assorted items on a table and chat with every single chick that came down the stairs to where we were showing our items for sale. This was a key logistical consideration because I could see the ladies ankles and calves before the rest of them came into camera, shall we say, so I knew if there was one who had nice little legs, I could preen a little in the mirror, get ready and look casual, you know, disaffected before our eyes locked in a millisecond of passion and reckless abandon. It was ok.

The woman who set up next to me was a feisty little italian thing, I didn't get a good look at her because she didn't stop moving long enough and these little speedy ones make me all dizzy but she was with a really friendly huggy bear type guy and they were accompanied by this nutsy chick with a bi level haircut, dyed fucshia but only on one side- she seemed awfully pleased with herself, really funny, straightforward, essentially hilarious- I liked her style and her personality immediately.

I did a telephone close with her and a bit of a takeaway at the end and we started mailing. She sent me a pdf of herself, in which she explains that she is a conceptual performance artist- I got scared- I like my freaky chicks dumb and this one had brains to resell, but she acts like a DITZ, so I was having hot and cold flashes over this chick. She's thin as a rail but willowy and sexy in a Warhol Factory mets Cher kinda way, plus she doesn't mince words and her eyes are beautiful almond shaped brown bottomless pools of dark honey. Uh...yeah...she just moved back to Australia for a few months and we have been writing again after I ran into her on the street. She asked me why I stopped mailing and I was honest, she seemed just too out there and intelligent - the pdf she sent was full of 5 dollar words , and man, I don't even pretend to try and keep up with this performance art shit. You know, it's out of my league and if it's her life, I'd certainly want to be a good sounding board as a pal, a friend, a lover, whatever. I'll bet she's a millions laughs in the rack oh God.

We'll call her Linda, for the sake of convenience. So she mentioned that I should do a blog.
Maaaaan, the first time somebody suggested a blog was in 2002- I have been avoiding blogging for the past several years, it was just too personal - but I don't give a rat's ass anymore- so now i'm free, i don't have to hide my obsessions from anyone, least of all myself. it's the right time for a blog, plus, nuts like Linda fuel my fire, she mentioned that she saved her sms mssages and designed wallpaper with the wilder ones- someone sent her a message that went something like "I wanna drown in a sea of Linda's spunk", indeed- don't get me started- i have a lover these days who has discovered that she is multiorgasmic- i haven't had time to actually look up what that means, but if it means what i think it means, i hit the jackpot- all i ever think about is swishing it around in there and she's just as horny plus when I oprss the right buttons I have to wear a crah helmet and a fireproof suit because this oe just spiontaneously combusts. Poof, this woman is on fire- listen, i'm no sexual athlete believe me, so i'm the first one to actually step back and check myself after i spend a weekend in the saddle with a big one who can't get enough and i'm riding that filly into the sunset. She's a brilliant farm girl , she looks great, she smells great, she's warm and nurturing, a little rough, just the way i like it and her feet are gorgeous and she knows her way arond the bedroom, and kitchen, and livingroom, and hallway and balcony and the landing outside my flat! We are on a kind of mission, we are seeing how far our fantasies can take us and we are satisfying each other's fantasies. We call it "communication". She tells me that she has never had any action like this and I'm preety much discovering that I am a complete slave to her wonderful pussy. She's a complete sexual playmate and partner, a friend, a lover, a pal- an accomplice-what man could ask for anything more?

Well I wanted to get that little sexual footnote in because she has an excellent blog, funny as hell- she has a real dry sense of humor. She's not a big talker, but when she says something, I know she says what she means and means what she says, so I listen carefully and save the soundbite. Montse, I call her Munsie because that's what the name sounds like with an American accent. I get such a kick out her blog, and I hope you, dear reader get a kick out of mine.

So this business of a faceful of gravy is one that I can identify with hahaha. Sea of spunk indeed. I have to admit that the other night Montse, we'll call her Montse for the sake of convenience decided to reintroduce me to this famous 69 position, maybe you know it . She's on top jamming her jelly on my goatee basically when suddenly everything goes black and my ears started to feel like they were drenched and I was underwater- all I could hear is the siren's sweet enchanting song of ooh's and ahh's- plus she used to sing soprano and she still has the mellifluous tones and the chops, so it's a sensuous serenade every time Montse mounts my face!!! We're on a dry spell, she's got the kids this week and drops them off Thursday, so I'm resting up. She has completely taken over my sperm supply. I wanna screw around with others but she has my almost undivided attention. Aiiii...what to do....i'll have the eggs waiter ...yes, that's what I said, raw please.

slow day at the beach, cock blocking fairies

2008-10-06T12:20:00.000-07:00

Well back to me; I was at the beach with Jyri yesterday, just watching the sea and a few girls, checking out everybody's cock too , the usual, minding my own business, drinking beer, eating sandwiches, getting high and a bit horny when some fruity guy came over and asked me for rolling papers. Ok, take a few and go away.

He was part of a crowd of nudists who have set up shop on that beach, mostly middle aged people, the women are all gorgeous- old, wrinkled, big beauitiful sagging everything, but they're so free and so natural and attractive, that you can't help feel the energy and good will, for lack of a better term. One was about 30 something, reddish brown hair and I kinda noticed her right away because she wasn't old hahaha...so the fairy offered me a beer, urged me over, I went, reluctantly Jyri followed and as I was busy absently brushing against and stroking this woman's thighs and calves, much to my satisfaction she is a makeup artist and had very smooth legs, the fairy was trying to hit on Jyri and Jyri doesn't generally take too well to greasy homos- I mean, I don't mind if they suck a little cock, hell, under the right circumstances, I might be tempted myelf- like maybe if the cock wre eon a woman, but that's for another post- one cock is not going to ruin my life or anything- big deal, given the choice I'll take a nice pussy, but Jyri is Jyri and you gotta respect that. The fairy didn't share that view, he came from the homo school that defens the concept that "everybody's gay". These fairies are just so booooorrrrrriiinnng.

So because I wanted to stroke the lady's legs more, I had 3 guys, fairy included and the lady over at my place after the beach. We were all drunk, Jyri had gone back home earlier and must have packed away a few beers because he was paralyzed on the sofa, just lying there like a giant burrito. So with my hippie house guests, just to set them off I rolled a couple of massive joints with this weed that just grows on you and gets you totally shitfaced stoned and that's what happened. We had a few beers, listened to music. Jyri was collapsed on the sofa, that boy drinks and the fairy went over to cover Jyri up better with the blanket when Jyri gave him a sharp thump in the back of the neck with his knee. The fag was howling, the mood was ruined, I wanted most certainly to approach the lady for more leg stroking, but had to try to bypass the cock blocking fairy. He was sooo protective and so loud in my living room, showing me a photo shoot of some guy he made up, zzzzz...ok ok, another gorgeous guy, swell.

hey,, so I wanted to take the one with the legs and tits into the kitchen to fondle her a bit, just a little accidentally on purpose brusharino against her breasts as I reach for the hot sauce or something but she was zonked, so the fairy accompanied me- this was not turning out according to my sinister plan.

Anyway, the fruitcake is in my kitchen and he starts bossing me around, "gimme a plate, gimme the cheese, gimme bread" and I just don't like it when total fucking strangers tell me what to do- NOBODY tells me what to do, not even ME, right? So I'm starting to percolate and he goes "gimme a knife, a sharp knife"....sooo...

I reached into the knife drawer and took out a 30 year old spring action switchblade that I use for laughs as a letter opener, I took it out, pushed the fairy against the wall, pressed on his throat with my right forearm and made like was gonna pierce his fucking neck with the blade in my left- i'm lefty for certain things, wanking and stabbing snippy fairies, left...defnitely. I wanted to poke that asshole- he started worrying big time-"hey are you serious'" I told him "what do you think?"

So he had a conniption- this was after the knee in neck scenario and he felt a bit threatened- I calmed him down after that. The only reason I don't pop that Jack in the Box is because I wanna swish my thingie around that girl and they are room mates- cock blocking cock sucker! Every time I got close to the redhead, the fairy swooped doiwn and made himself a nuisance. What a party pooping bastard.

After calling me an asshole, Jyri told me that the best startegy would have been to have everybody over at the bar, and then try to make an escape with the babe, laving all cock blockers well away. A lesson was learned.

finnish berry vodka recipe

2008-10-06T12:15:00.000-07:00

2kg- berries
1 kg- processed crappy white sugar
4 bottles of Smirnoff or any crap vodka
place everything in a large plastic bottle- like the big water bottles, 8 liters is good.
Wait at least one month for the stuff to macerate.
Pour out some in a shotglass with Jyri
Wait for effect.
Govern self accordingly.