Comments by ralphyboy (page 2)

Every forum on the web has its distinct minority-emphasis on STINCT- of infantile,arrested development, pin-headed bigots, racists and various other dysfunctional purveyors of hate spewing their filth in cowardly anonymity. Having never had the misfortune to be on the receiving end of their sick poisonous posturings, I can only imagine the feelings of dread and nausea any victim must experience. But ninety nine and a half percent of participants on these sites are reasonably sane and mature individuals and if you allow the isolated sickos to drive you out, they win. Hang tough, and alternately expose and ignore the mental and emotional cripples who have nothing to contribute but their own lack of imagination.

Btw, mr.f., this small issue aside (and the simple fact that you are attentive, responsive and involved should be enough for anyone) the Bigger Picture should never be forgotten and bears mentioning on a reg basis-- you have put together and manage a magnificent site here-just keeps getting better. Don't know about 'food on your table', but I'd take you to lunch any day off the week.

Agreed. Older (restored) menu bar at top is better, simpler, visually cleaner, easy to scan and use. And the older review page (the one just changed) was simpler, visually cleaner, easier to scan and use. Should have been retained. New one is a cluttered mess.

Reminds me of Robin Meade (morning CNN babe) one of the lustiest pieces on the Tube riffing over new airline technology that would examine your 'cracks and crevices' w/o actually revealing the bod. She couldn't stop repeating the phrase and alluding to her own as she giggled through the whole segment. She's such a bodacious (Ohio beauty winner I think)good time gurl I'm still contemplating her C&C's two and a half months later.

Arrived at (the delicate art) of 'manscaping late in the game-since I like a good rimming- from time to time have taken the razor to the nether regions @ the brown eye for squeaky clean access. The exercise itself is a high wire act auto-eroticism laced with the distinct possibility of self laceration if not emasculation. But I remain mystified by what must be the even trickier art of ball-shaving-haven't a clue how you'd go about scraping that loose bumpy sac-but the pay-off would obviously be there if all the porns I've been watching are any indication. Methinks must take some BALLS (and patience and determination) to shave dem balls. Have a feeling that (desirable as it may be) it's one of those things in life I'll never do.

Ditto CR2 above,I'm astonished by the diversity of opinions here. I always thought the whole point of a LD was getting off and to hell with suiting up with the raincoat-who needs it-it's just a little creamy love-juice. Any dancer worth her salt INTENDS to get you off, unless she knows you're just in it for the long drawn out tease-in which case you deserve everything you DON'T get.

As an addendum, I now recall two other celebrated incidents in the Southern NJ area (going back 2-7 years now) when custies were 'inadvertently' killed in altercations with our thick-necked bouncer personnel. Both were shoving matches which started ITC and moved outside where blows and skulls hitting the concrete resulted in deaths of somewhat inebriated but otherwise harmless custies....the security goons in these joints are not the most highly evolved braineacs and are prob more dangerous in most places than the drunken horndogs otherwise known as patrons. Our hobby is fraught with dangers much riskier than that dogleg curling around the pond adjacent to the green on that 165 yard par 3.

The Philly area's had a spate of violent and homicidal incidents involving strippers and clubs. Few years ago, a white collar drained his fortune and killed his wife over a stripper (Summer), another guy pulled a girl for an OTC to an adjacent motel, ended up killing her, throwing her in back of his pick-up and driving across the bridge to Jersey (whole thing visible on EZPass video)for disposal; recently a lonely postal employee did a VIP in Cheerleaders-one of the city's most popular joints, shot her in the face (survived) and then blew his brains out...most recently there was a homicide in Wizards in University City (U of Penn)...no surprise that almost all joints in Philly area now feature goons with wands and metal detectors at front door. These joints ain't churches, folks, full of good souls on the straight and narrow. We may not consider ourselves sick misfits, but such troubled and mis-begotten searchers are def attracted to our dens of iniquity-on both sides of the stage.

I'm not either-because I'm aware of my tendencies and fight them. Consciousness of your 'addiction' begins with the recognition of its seeds, and of that thin line when control(of your chosen activity) passes from you to IT. A small taste of enslavement (ie of doing things w/o even desiring to do them) foreshadows the bigger picture and worse consequences down the road. Hyperbole is a literary device to illuminate a point-not to be taken literally.

This is a good question-for me the definition of an addiction is a compulsion to engage in an activity even (especially) in the absence of any particular desire to do so. In other words, it's a compulsion, plain and simple, even when you don't particularly feel like doing it. It's all subliminal brain chemistry, conditioned behavior and habit operating autonomously even in the absence of any particular desire to engage in the activity. The dick is not horny, the body is not willing, the weather sucks and the drive is too far,the finances aren't what they should be, got a cold and feel like s**t-no matter- I've driven an hour to a place and then sat outside in the lot w/o the slightest desire to go in, and asked myself 'what the hell am I doing here?' Definition of an addiction.

Cock-suckers' and smokers' breath have been knocking me off my stools lately. If you've swallowed eight loads in the last 2 hours or been out back sucking on your cancer sticks please invest in a nice bottle of Listerine before whooshing into my face with a 'wanna dance.' And enough already with the frangipanni/patchouli/coconut banana cheap ass perfumes. We like the 'smell' of nice clean skin and hair. And yeah, a year or two back I made the mistake of taking a dance with a sister who'd just finished her super-energized-bunny routine on stage-she was wetter and slicker than a greased pig-longest 3 minutes of my life. The other nite had a Brasiliera heifer on my lap-started stroking her legs and damn near cut my hands up on the sticky stubble. It's the little things.

wg- (for those of us in this somewhat exclusive club who've been enjoying your mental assets) RU willing to reveal the general whereabouts of your act for those of us who may be in the 'hood and would love to scope out the rest of you? We love Jersey gurls in the Delaware Valley.

Amen and Ditto: the only thing scarier than some of our candidates (especially the last one we "elected" twice) is the electorate itself (the scared and stupid) which keeps picking transparent losers and stooges over far superior choices. The best men (thoughtful, semi-intelligent INDEPENDENT thinkers)almost never win-the whole three ring circus dog and pony show we call elections with the best candidates money can buy guarantees that. Beware Giuliani the chest-thumping god's gift to a scared nation, and Huckabee another born again true believer with a direct line to the Almighty. Haven't we had enough of this s**t?

I like Obama, Clinton and McCain, obviously for different reasons. Obama has youth, vitality, Kennedy-like charisma ('the torch is passed') and would cause the whole world to view this ransacked kingdom in a much needed new light. In a fairy tale world he'd be my pick. But the Clinton machine will crush him-she's smart as a whip and would cut your balls off and hand them to you on a silver platter. Is this a bad thing in a hostile world? McCain's always been the real deal and is displaying more vigor than any seventy-two year old I know. Any repub hated by as many repub zealots JM is can't be all bad. And since the country's gone to hell in a hand basket the last eight years HRC shouldn't have too much trouble beating even a renegade of JM's quality.

Best of both worlds: Silk boxers.

Never been to the Dome, but IMHO S&T is the best club (and that includes a couple hi-mileage favs across the river in Jersey)in the Delaware Valley. Of course it all depends on your fit and taste-but for my money it's nude, BYO, accessible and safely located, consistently well run with little (other than gurlz) turnover with a nice live and let live vibe. Not much for lapping (too open and expensive)unless you opt for the pricey privates in back (I don't). Flanked by two other fine joints in walking distance too-make it a trifecta. The big, new Ikea down the street is the perfect 'honey I'm going shopping' fairy tale.

Not THAT ridiculous. But it has gotten more complicated. Thirty years ago I just followed my dick into these places without a thought. I'm still doing that, but now subterfuge, deceit, ROB radar, money management concerns, LE wariness, time issues and alibis and your over-all spidey sense have all entered into the mix. Then clubber wisely brings up the exit issues as well. Which is where my friendly neighborhood AMPs came in for me--what to do when you've been nursing booze and hard-ons for two or three hours and leaving tipsy and horny? My first parlors were conveniently located right a short walk up the street from my fav SC. Two problems solved. Drive home relieved and moderately sober and hour later. Little by little I'm skipping the clubs and just going directly to the source.

Hey Techman-56 here and always wanted to hit the Cincy Gaiety (what a name!)but was too young and never had the nerve. Would love to here your reminiscences about that place. My first would prob be the late sixties across the river in Newport (when it was GOOD)at the Pink Pussycat, swilling Wiedemann and jaw-droppingly (and unit poppingly) entranced by EZ Ryder. Seems like yesterday.

Big Ditto on the generally sluggish. Most pages loading like sludge. Love the new format, but the old one never had these navigation issues.

Port Any fine, rare or small label beer (porters, stouts, ales, all good) Never anything hard, 'cept my unit, if I'm lucky. Oh, and a pocket full of pretzels since I never imbibe w/o eating. Slows you down, soaks it up, and you'll be driving later, right?

I like vanilla as much as the next guy, but think it's more appropriate in banana bread or almond cookies. Met a lot of dancers I wanted to eat on the spot, but it wasn't because they smelled like they worked in a bakery. The sisters too prefer those heavy (cheap) fruity scents-remember when patchouli was all the rage? The fruity ones are usually cheap, heavy, thick-always a bad sign when you can smell them coming. I'm a man of subtlety and prefer a light floral note (if anything) more in the range of 'do I smell it or not.' I like being hooked and drawn in by a teaser, not sledgehammered by half a bottle of some shit from Walmart.

Nothing but the softest, loosest pants over silk boxers-they insulate, block and absorb. Any (and many) experienced dancer will note and comment on the quality of trouser-for a few it simply id's you as an old hand and a perv-and possibly as someone they stand little chance of hustlling and may not want to dance for. But the large majority of gurls know why you're there and appreciate your thoughtfulness. For me anyway-and I'd be interested in the pc's here-it's all about firing one off, and the sooner the better. Oh yeah, and never go in w/o a sport or leisure jack with loads of pockets for cash, stash, pills, munchies (yeah, I take my own). And it'll cover up that pesky little stain nicely, too.

I met a PR honey in my local dive whose breath stank to high heaven. Heard she was loose though, so had a dance and gave her my digits. When she showed up at my door 3 hrs later I threw her in the shower with a giant mouthwash prominently displayed on teh sink. I'll never know if she used it though-but she did take care of bizness-BIG time. One frequently over-looked attribute of the little dictator is its complete inability to smell anything. Thank god for small blessings.

Bolt-ons are an immediate dis-qualifier for me too. Know I'm not interested in that type of woman (insecure, keeping up with the Jones, catering to the lowest common denominator of men). Give me all naturals-tits, bush, your everyday sexy girl next door who aims to please by a sunny disposition and sensuality. OTOH I am a sucker for all identifiable and unidentifiable ethnic exotics-any dusky color and whiff of the far-away exotic fruit grabs me and won't let go til I can talk to it, smell it, and ravenously maul it (if they'll let me).

I second 'Dancing at the Blue Iguana.' Daryl Hannah was excellent, as were Sandra Oh and Jennifer Tilly who has a marvelous scene whipping a PL on a leash in a session in her apartment-with all that sick, lusty gusto only she could bring to the role. Atom Egoyan's 'Exotica' was also long on the unique atmosphere and desperation of your run-of-the-mill end of the road god-forsaken small town den of iniquity. Also agree that the Portman/Owen dialogue in the SC scene in 'Closer' was so close to the bone it made me squirm-Owen is particularly odious in that role.