Indignation.
I used to have a great career in Hollywood. I mean, it was hard work, but the pay was great and it didn't exhaust me mentally, so I had plenty of time to come home and work on my screenplays. Which are available, you know, if anyone out there is interested. I'm also working on an memoir of my early days as a transexual in Compton called From Ghetto to Stiletto. But I digress.

This job was pre-op and simple - growing up where I did, and how I did, you had to be tough, so I had quite a physique, the kind I now look for in a man, and I'd gotten myself a wellpaid gig as an R. Kelly lookalike. I did charity events, some work as an extra in a couple of films - these old people even paid me for some weird fetish videos once, I wasn't fussy, I was enjoying the attention, glamour and money. On occaison I got to hang with some real stars which, as you can imagine, was quite cool. The majority of them were very forced and polite but some were really laid out - I got to be friends with them and we met and had drinks regularly. As I said, it was a great career. But I was wrong in assuming it was a career.

R. Kelly, the real me I called him, well all the troubles started in the news. I didn't listen to any of it, but my job offers starting drying up. Eventually, all I was getting offered was celebrity spots on Mexican reality tv-shows, and one day my agent calls me up and says she got an offer for another of those weird fetish videos. I had a part coming in to change the toner on a photocopier and just had to stink my finger up a guy's butt until he came. It sounded good to me, money was money in these times, and it was good money. So there we were on set and my fluffer kept handing me pills. She said it was her last day. That the pink ones were erection tablets, like viagra, and she wanted to get rid of them, I mean it didn't click to me that they weren't, or that I didn't need an erection for my part, but in I come during the middle of filming, and as I'm slipping my pinkie into the brown eye of some tan California white guy I get this unresistable urge to spray. I'm grabbing my junk and this starlet's nodding at me, saying, "Yeah, you too." and I've never been a fan of lady holes, but this woman insists on unzipping me and holding me in her hand and the tan guy moves around to spew on her face and she nestles herself into me and I just scream and my bladder's emptying and she calls me a "Faggot Nigger".

Well the whole studio went silent. The director came over to us, me still spurting all over the place, and said to me, "I think you better go home." So I shook my final drops on his shoes, told him he was taking the piss, and that I quit. I mean christ, this little cum-slut just grabbed me and I'm taking the blame? Fuck that shit. I'm angry even reliving it.

Anyway, that's the only time I quit a job. Length? Nine months in all, $30,000, and I look like Paris Hilton down there. Like, really, I got her face tattooed. I think it's cute. Oh, do you guys think I should add this to my book?

- Vanessa.
(sorry., Thu 22 May 2008, 18:47, 4 replies)

Are you...
Frankspencer in disguise?
(Potty Jag har smör i min rumpspringa, Thu 22 May 2008, 19:58, closed)

.
No, frankspencer was me in disguise. This is who I am.
(sorry., Fri 23 May 2008, 11:33, closed)

can nobody differentiate?!
That's not my idiom at all.
(frankspencer, Fri 23 May 2008, 14:50, closed)

Hmm
I can tell Frank, far too tame for one of your stories!
( TGB checking Off Topic is still shit at, Wed 28 May 2008, 11:15, closed)