National Celibacy Day
NO DICK – NO BUSH
National Celibacy Day
NO DICK – NO BUSH
Feel free to include information regarding why he deserves to be on the site (and when i say naked im not talking pornographic.
just anything embarrassing.)
“A girl don’t need
No fancy grease
To get herself
Some rump release
Of lube’ll do
Maybe from another
Part of you
Lube from the North
Lube from the South
Take a little slobber
(Take a little slobber!)
From the side of your mouth
Roll it over
Grease it down
Here come that crazy
Screamin’ sound . . .
Keep it greasey so it’ll go down easy”
ZAPPA: THE BEST
Still in Berlin and I have no good excuse for the lack of blogging except the dial up connection makes it take hours to do so. I have accomplished many good things during this trip, like shipping a lot of my stuff to NYC which means my move back to the US is slowly but surely looking permanent. I will fly back to NYC on October 29th, just in time for a killer karaoke Halloween.
I know I want to stay in the US but as long as Jasmine thrives here in Berlin, I have to have one foot here per say, as well. All of my huge framed rock star pictures are now on a boat heading towards Manhattan. The flat will finally look like the Hard Rock Cafe it’s meant to be.
‘Rolling Stone’- ITALY called yesterday for a one hour phone interview. They will print a whole page story with a few pictures of me and my favorite star clients for the December issue. The reporter who called was very cool. His name was Michele, which is exactly how my OTHER sister spells her name. I thought all the while a chick would be calling me, much to my surprise; ‘Michele’ is a guy. I made him laugh the whole time so it should be a fun read.
A very odd thing has happened to me over the last few days. A girl named Alicia contacted me, asking me if I remember her from school. I was like, which school? I went to 15 different schools in the standard 12 years us Yanks have to endure. She went on to say, 9th and 10th grade, in Virginia Beach, Va. OH, I wrote back, you mean the preppy girl with dark hair? ‘Yes, that’s me’ she answered.
The hairs on the back of my neck were already standing up when she confirmed it was her. She was in a couple of my classes and I was jealous of her because she looked so clean, so looked after, so rich, so proper, so god dammed perfect. I couldn’t even imagine her on the crapper, you know what I mean? I was dressing like Riff Randal from the film “Rock and Roll High School” starring the Ramones.
I had checkered Vans (sneakers!), dyed purple jeans with safety pins all over them and at the strip near the beach, I wore the tiniest white bikini money could buy. My half dad and step mom had their hands full with my sister and brothers, so I had a HUGE amount of freedom. I was wild, playing Janet every weekend at the Mall’s cinema “Rocky Horror Picture Show” show. While the film played, our cast acted it out on stage. If you have seen this film, you will know, Janet didn’t wear much in most of the flick. I also went to a few concerts a week. The whole school knew about me meeting bands, in other words, I appalled her with my wild rock and roll ways and she appalled me with her squeaky clean looks and manners. One day at the strip she and her mom were driving along and spotted me and my gal pals strutting our shit and pulled up to say hi and their draws dropped when they got a look at what we weren’t wearing. The next day she told me she could never dress like that.
MEOW! We were like good kitty/ bad kitty. Anyways, after a few emails, she explained her life has changed so much since then and she thanked me for rubbing some of my rock and roll ways onto her ‘clean’ sweater. Now she is a singer/song writer out in Hollywood. We have so much in common: her parents died sadly in a car crash; both of my parents died very tragically (my biological father shot his head off; mom basically took her own life). Rather then wallowing in self-pity, we both got very ambitious and chose music/show biz (in one way or another). It is so strange, especially, get this, our birthdays. We were born EXACTLY the same day, month, and YEAR! How odd is that after 20 years our paths cross again and we find out we aren’t as different as we thought back in school. I told her I hate LA but will come out to visit her around Turkey day. I have a few other folks out there I have to visit anyways, but now at least I have a gal pal to hang out with. As soon as Tammy (the woman who brought us together per email) finishes her web site, I will post her site on my blog, until then, feast your eyes on Alicia:
I will massage her for putting me up during my stay in LA. She said she will show me around. I warned her, I am NY, not LA! I have an attitude and refuse to brown nose. Hate all that ass kissing that goes on out there in Tinsel Town. We’ll see how it goes, I am open minded, I’ll give it one more chance. But for now, I’m homeward bound.
‘Tonight I’ll sing my songs again, I’ll play the game and pretend
But all my words come back to me, in shades of mediocrity
Like emptiness and harmony, I need someone to comfort me
Homeward bound, I wish I was homeward bound
Home, where my thoughts escape, at home, where my music’s playin’
Home, where my love lies waitin’ silently for me’
Simon and Garfunkel
Dear Dr. Dot,
They say it's your birthday It's my birthday too, yea They say it's your birthday We're gonna have a good time I'm glad it's your birthday Happy birthday to you Yes we're going to a party, party Yes we're going to a party, party Yes we're going to a party, party I would like you to dance (Birthday) Take cha cha cha chance (Birthday) I would like you to dance (Birthday) Oh, yea
cheers to my pal Joanna for the joke
Sitting here watching my ‘Paul McCartney Back in the U.S concert film’ DVD trying to find the mood to blog. The weather here bites; it’s gray, raining, and freezing. The people here, well, in my neighborhood anyways, are absolute snobby pricks who pick at each other about every tiny thing. Seems like every citizen here takes it upon themselves to be a cop. It’s like being in the army here. Speaking of cops, I did have one run in with them since I have been here in Berlin. I was roller-blading home the other night from visiting my gal pal Andrea and web master, Nobbi and I always skate in the streets, as it is smoother.
It was about 1am and the cops yelled at me through their bullhorn and told me to pull over. I just blurted out wicked loud “I don’t speak German sorry!”. Making them stutter and try to tell me in English to skate on the sidewalk. What ever. I waited until they were gone and hit the streets again. There were no cars out anyhow at that time and the sidewalks here are mostly made of cobble-stone(aka skating hell).
I am going mad living between these two countries. Jasmine just called me from NYC, she is taking two of my vintage Stones concert shirts and selling them at some shop in the East Village that pays A LOT for old concert shirts. Mine are worth a mint. She said they just gave her $100 per shirt. She only has two of them with her, thank god, as we all know being in NYC with lots of cash only leads to binge shopping and no good.
I pretty much want to sell every thing I have except my star photographs, cds and clothes. Tired of being bogged down with material items. I have over 200 STONES LPS! They are all mint condition, not one scratch, most sealed in original coating. I have over 500 music cassettes (most live music) which will slowly be put onto cd format by my Zappa freak pal, John. Then I want all that shit gone. Amazing how much crap one can gather over the years. Now I have tons of shit in both countries. Not too E-Bay savvy, so that won’t work. Maybe I will just have a tag sale someday.
I do have pictures and tales of my karaoke early birthday bash to share though. Even though my birthday isn’t until October 19th, the magazine I write my Ask Dr. Dot column for over here in Berlin called the ‘Ex-Berliner’ and my German Agent, Bjoern, threw me a party at the FRANZ club. Karaoke Monster “Ron” was the DJ and so it went like this, first there was normal karaoke, which had the BEST sound I have ever heard so far. The Franz club has their own SOUND GUYS and lighting guys. There is a huge stage, I mean I have seen bands like the B-52’s, Ramones and Madness play on smaller stages then this. After 90 minutes of karaoke, a live band came on called “the Human karaoke machine”. They have a big list of songs they can play and you sing the song you want with the live band. They all put these wild purple punk/mullet style wigs on and kick ass. The female bass player is from Detroit and the rest of the band is German.
I felt so comfortable with them that you may think we have jammed together many times. You can look and listen to the video Andrea made of me singing “Whole lotta love” on my web sites (click on camera number 5). Andrea’s camera is not a professional video camera, it is a digital camera that can also make tiny videos, so it isn’t the best quality, but you get the idea. Of course it doesn’t do the sound quality any justice, but I will have to have Jonesy video tape me with a good camera once I get back to the states. My knees are still black and blue from doing my rock star crap on stage that night. Little did I know, karaoke monster shows a video before everything starts to warn people to put knee pads on before they start karaoke.
That above is me with the Human Karaoke Machine. Below, Sabine and Andrea (two very good pals of mine)
Above: Sammy my French pal; known him for years. He is sarcastic as hell, he has an attitude, like the French do (heehee) hard to explain, but he is a good laugh, wicked fun to hang out with. He won’t do karaoke and he chain smokes, but I still adore him. He belongs in NYC (maybe then he would quit those nasty cancer sticks).
Dear Dr. Dot,
I am 27, my girlfriend is 19. I work hard all day and when I get home, she wants wild sex. I know, most guys dream of such a girl, but she just keeps me exhausted. I love her and do like making love with her, but it’s too much. How can a man complain correctly about this?
Exhausted in NYC
Sounds to me like someone has too much free time on her hands or too much energy. I wonder if she is working or at least working out. Get her a membership at a gym or hint that the house needs cleaning (always a turn off) or come right out and tell her you may get bored if you have it every day. Buy her porn and some K-Y jelly and tell her to get busy while you’re at work. If this is your biggest problem…….you are blessed!
Are you a real Doctor or not?
Kim Queens, NY
According to the following definition, I am:
Doctor: 1. (Verb) to make suitable or improve by altering in a certain way. 2. (Noun) a person skilled in repairing or improving something broken or flawed, or specializing in healing arts. Verb: restore by replacing a part or putting together what is torn or broken
Dear Dr. Dot,
My guy complains about his body all the time. He thinks he is overweight but he isn’t. Not a day goes by without him blabbing about how he has to lose weight and his fat stomach. I give him compliments every time hoping he will stop, but it just gets worse. I am going crazy.
Cindy, Brooklyn, NY
This is an annoying trend. So many guys whine about their figure, I am about to get sick. I find it boring and feminine when they stress over their waistline. This metro-sexual crap will eat our hetro men alive sooner or later. Tell him not to think out loud when it comes to his weight, as it is a giant turn off. If he keeps it up, say, “You’re right, you are just to dam fat to shag anymore, see ya!” Let me know how it goes.
You almost have to feel sorry for Berlin when you realize how broke it is. I’ve only been back here a week and at first I thought people were exaggerating about how minus they are on their bank accounts. Not only that, none of them can call out on their cell phones. You can call them, but their phones have been shut off long ago. Land lines? No fucking way, no one I know even has a land line anymore. What the hell is going on here? In 1989 when I moved here, it was thriving,money was everywhere.
Now, it’s “who’s gonna give in and call who first” to save money. Unreal. So this is how a recession looks? The women are furious. German men are already tight wads who refuse to buy a gal a drink, but now it’s hard-core. The women are supporting the men. Feeding them, inviting them out to eat and as my gal pals complained tonight , the men want “gratis muschi” ahem, how do I put this lightly, the men want it for free, as in, free trim without even the dinner/movie let alone pay their bills. Times are TOUGH here! Aggravated at first, now I feel sympathy for the people here. Where is it going now? Will another war have to break out to make enough jobs for the Germans? My older intelligent German female pals told me it will be this bad and worse for the next 10 years, and then maybe it will get better.
No wonder they can’t afford a smile. My good friend Jaquline was in tears tonight when she picked me up to go to the b-day party. She is crying cause she has too many bills and no man to support her. She is a Dentist, not a Dental Hygienist, a DENTIST and she can’t even make ends meet here. I told her to cheer up, she is beautiful, qualified/educated, healthy and loved and she has an apartment in the hottest part of Berlin with a gorgeous daughter. I told her if she can’t cure the problem at this very moment, she should at least try to enjoy the present time, the here and now.
Jaquline and I went to the cult bar called ‘White Trash Fast Food’ in the east of Berlin. The twins, Iris and Petra were throwing their b-day bash there. I met the owner, ‘Wally’ tonight for the first time. He is from L.A and told me he hates L.A as much as I do. (I doubt that is possible). I let him know his bar is the coolest in Berlin except for the cig smoke; I could barely see across the room, but that’s how it is all over Berlin.
(above left: Petra and Wally/ above right: Jaquline and Iris at ‘White Trash Fast Food’)
I am now at home, sitting here naked, as my clothing is hanging outside on the balcony to air out from all of the friggin SMOKE it absorbed during my night out here in smokey ass Berlin. All of you cig smokers have no idea what I mean, it is so smokey here, you don’t even have to buy cigs, all you have to do is go out and breath in, you will get your fill of nicotine/tar for the night.
(Martina, Frodo(?) and me)
No wonder I get ill from the cig smoke, look how wide I have my big yapper open the whole time (feel free to hog all the oxygen Dot!)
The HUGE guy in the back ground there, with the nose ring, is called Frodo, or Bodo, or Hodo, I couldn’t quite get the name with this Viral Labrinyth thing going on, yes, still deaf in one ear, can’t hear out the other. Plus he is a few feet taller then I so he had to shout down at me in his German banter. Gentle Giant I call him. Nice dude, let me know if you need a body guard. He is like my dogs, they look vicious, but they would never bite. (Dangerous people don’t know that so don’t tell ’em).
I dragged Martina and Jaquline to my old watering hole after the b-day bash, the ol’ Oscar Wilde. As usual it was packed with drunk Irish dudes. Some were aching to get slapped. They all had tried their best to impress me and my mates with really stupid pick up lines: “it’s me birthday, can I have eh birthday kiss eh?” I said, “show me your ID then.” He didn’t have it and oozed “liar”.
Another got pissed off that he ‘wasn’t my type’, and then told me I have a big arse (sour grapes laddy!) I said, “yes, look at my huge ass, the bigger then cushion, the better the pushin'”. This place is rough, especially after midnight. The lads would never speak to a female like that back home in Ireland, but here in Berlin, they behave badly, really badly. I don’t mind reminding them of their manners though. It was fun going there again and Terry, the owner was very pleased to have my there again, haven’t seen him for ages!
I have gotten mixed reviews about that huge ‘selling of my eggs on E Bay’ story (It made the cover of the news papers here) it brought out hate, envy, laughs and encouragement. Those who are easily shocked, should be shocked more often.
I often feel like the dog in this cartoon, you know, running against the wind:
WHEW! One good thing, my pal, the reporter, Alexandra, wrote a two page story about my life in NYC and I was sweatin’ it, wondering what she would write. It’s all good, no back stabbing or scandal. If you can read some German, you can see it HERE