<<PREVIOUS   NEXT>>          [DIARY ARCHIVES]

Sunday - May 05, 2002
Beware Trojans Be They Not Ribbed


Viruses there are, Viruses there were, Viruses there will ever be.

Ratfuck bastards.

You know, I admit it, there is a part of me that understands the desire to create something that does nothing but fuck with people and/or expose the vulnerabilities and facades of this virtual world so many of us have grown fond of. But couldn't you just scramble some file names or something? Do you have to corrupt and reformat and delete shit? Fine, yes, I've got backups and I should update them more often - fair enough. But when you do this crap it makes me start thinking all Big Brother like and I hate that. So, can you just build kinder, gentler viruses? Maybe something that spams the archdiocese with porn? Or, better yet, the White House with ACLU literature - hell I'd settle for getting them a copy of the Constitution.

Thank you.

There. I feel better.

This update finds a couple new things lingering about the site.

The most exciting is the Boris Lopez Gallery. Boris is an amazing artist who just finds a way to translate all the sensual splendor of youth into his breathtaking beauties. It's like glimpsing the exact moment when innocence yields to sexuality.

I also added a new story - The Ravenous and the Ravaged. It's a first installment, and I'm not entirely sure when I'll be getting to the next installment. Bear with me. You'll find the new Audio Tease is a snippet from the story as well. And, speaking of audio teases, the Audio page has a new Audio Contact Form so that you can put in a request for future audio submissions, or let me know if you're having trouble with your audio. Don't be shy. I won't bite. Well, I might bite, but I promise you'll like it.

Also, because I added this feature a while back without any bru-ha-ha, I thought I'd mention to anyone who might not know, you can now be notified when I update. Click here to get added to my notify list. And lest you think nice things about me, please know this isn't as much about making things convenient for ya'll as it is about alleviating my guilt for taking so long between updates.

I guess it's time to name my roommate. So, I'm going to call her Blythe.

She won't like it, but you know, let her start her own site and she can give me funny names. Blythe is sort of acclimating. She's helping me organize my index cards which is no small task. I just wish she'd stop grinning when I come back after a call. She keeps making trips down to Miami because she can't believe how fucking dreadfully dull this town is.

But, the beaches are lovely.

We're coming up on summer, which is the slow season for phone sex. People are outside enjoying the sunshine coveting people in the flesh instead of sitting on the phone, huddled against the cold, coveting in their minds. And, with the slowing of business comes the Season of the Wanker.

So, you know, I hate summer for two reasons: I make less money, and the dispatchers can get cranky from dealing with bullshit all day.

Which reminds me. We've never really talked about canceling calls, have we? Those of you who don't engage in phone sex probably wonder. Well, I'll tell you.

With any reputable service that puts effort in verifying billing information (to prevent charge backs and keep underage callers from slipping by) there is a slight lag with new clients. Existing customers will have their billing information on file. All that has to happen is a quick verification. But, new callers have to give a little more. Either way, there is a time period between "my dick is hard" and getting the call.

For 99% of clients this is not a problem. But, sometimes you have a guy who already tossed off to the porno he was watching in the three minutes, or a guy
who was trying for a quickie while his wife ran the videos back to Blockbuster.

And there are a variety of things that happen. They'll answer the phone and say "wrong number" when you ask for them. They'll just not answer the phone. Or they'll take the phone off the hook.

So, the rules I follow are like this:

1. If a woman answers, I ask if Mitzi is home. Lord help me if one of them is ever named Mitzi. Then I confirm the number, and say "oh, wait, this 3 looks like an 8 after all. Sorry." To just hang up is suspicious and can get a guy in trouble. Or get the girl looking at his Visa bill for strange charges.

2. If a line is busy I wait 2 minutes before trying again. Gives him time to get rid of Aunt Faye calling to find out if he enjoyed the green Jell-O mold she sent, or whatever. And, I only try a busy line twice. If a phone line is busy for more than 2 minutes, he obviously doesn't want the call anymore and he can call back for it later.

3. If it rings and rings and rings, I give two good efforts of 8 rings each and then call the game on account of rain.

It's a bizarre sort of business. It's like being "the other woman" only without all the ducking onto the floor of cars and driving by his house late at night stuff.

Ah. The ethics of phoneslutdom.

Oh, speaking of that, I found a very interesting essay from another phone slut. I can't say that this is a representation of all my own beliefs. I don't mind some of the more extreme and taboo fantasies. They don't offend me. And I don't think it's a compromise of my personal ethics to indulge in them. But I don't pass judgment on anyone else for feeling uncomfortable with them - or for enjoying some of the things that go outside my personal bounds. Oh sure, I'll kid around and call them pervs, but for the most part whatever crimps your curly-Q is okay by me. Because I know what crimps mine can seem just as twisted.

Okay. I think I've rambled on long enough. Hope all is well in the lands of milk and honey - and even better in the land of rum and caramel.




BACK TO TOP