Posts tagged music
The title is a popular song by the electronic band Prodigy, and it’s an awesome song on it’s own, but I have a memory of being taken to the hospital, where I still get a bill every month that I spitefully pay just $5 a month on for that ride. I didn’t get charged by the hospital, luckily, but the freaking ambulance company is up my ass about a ride they are charging me over $700 for. The cab ride back to the apartment from the hospital was under $20 with tip.
I got to talk to someone else recently who has endured this kind of thing. Calling out for help sometimes gets you in even more trouble than you started out with.
In this photo I look like I am a psycho nursing assistant or something, but it’s actually a patient “uniform” when you get checked in to the ER at Earl K Long in Baton Rouge for a psychiatric evaluation. Never call a suicide hotline while drunk! More importantly, make a cop take you to the hospital because you will end up with a bill over $700 for a ten minute ambulance ride!
Now I could probably try to get medicaid to pay that, but I don’t want them to get the cash that quickly. I don’t think it’s right for people to get carted off in an ambulance when they could take the ride in a cop car. I really should have refused the ambulance and someone should have offered a ride, but then again, I didn’t push it, so nobody threatened to “take me to jail” if I didn’t go in the ambulance.
I know a cop could have taken me, even if they had to cuff me, but then again, if the ones who showed up were too lazy, the one that did put me in a car would have probably threatened jail just to get me into the ambulance. I was drunk and depressed, in that “drunk crying” mode. I was allowing myself to literally shake with anxiety because in my mind, this was the potential start for a much longer journey than just the hospital trip.
I wasn’t sure at all about what it would be like, or how long they would really keep me, or what kind of accommodations I would find at wherever they were taking me. I didn’t know if I should expect the kind of thing I see in the movies, or if it would be worse.
When I got there, I was admitted, and they tested my urine and gave me ativan because the figured I was a pretty high level alcoholic to have that level, and they didn’t want to deal with seizures if I was physically dependent. Luckily, even though I have been drinking about six years, I still never got to the point where I could handle the kind of amounts that they were probably assuming.
I am lucky to have the background and history of smoking as much weed as I did, because I have read somewhere that it helps prevent seizures that can potentially come from sudden abstinence from alcohol after several years of using it regularly.
I was in a weird mood when I started this post, probably buzzed, and I even used that photo of me in the paper suit while I was creating the first draft. I would say I’m “not feeling it” anymore, but something kept me coming back to this post in an effort to figure out what I was ranting about this time.
I know that I didn’t appreciate having a $700 plus bill show up in the mail after going through such an ordeal as putting myself in that situation in the first place. Then I had to go to the hospital and show them my actual financial state at the time so that they didn’t hit me up for over $1200. That would have been over 2 grand for making one drunk fucking phone call!
At least I didn’t get caught trying to drive while fucked up because commercials out here in Nevada indicate they will take $10,000 from you by the time it’s all said and done, and you lose your car and license, unless they are figuring that all in with that horrible threat.
I’ve posted enough about “luck” and that didn’t have anything to do with never getting caught driving while fucked up. I actually have an anxiety about trying to get behind the wheel even if I have been drinking a little bit, because I know very well that if some a-hole pedestrian walks out in front of you, it’s their fault if you are sober but your fault if you are fucked up.
That makes no fucking sense to me whatsoever. I mean, if some drunk guy hits a bus stop, like one just did recently very close to where I happen to live, he should get slapped with the harshest punishment available. He fucking killed somebody. At the same time, nearly every week, some asshole tries to cross the street in total darkness in the exact point between intersections where they should not fucking be crossing. Add to that if they are drunk and wobbling all over the place while trying to cross the road in total darkness, and you can guess that Darwin’s law will prevail, and that asshole will be another statistic shown on the news.
Most of the time, those suicidal pedestrians are taken out by people who happen to be *TOTALLY FUCKING SOBER* and very lucky to have been on that occasion. In those cases, the drivers aren’t charged, because the cops know you CAN’T FUCKING SEE THESE PEOPLE IN THE DARK. If, on the other hand, the driver happens to have had as little as a few beers, then criminal charges come into the picture.
That’s why I am scared to drive drunk. I’m not scared I would cause an accident, I’m scared that some idiot would cause an accident and then I am still at fault because I happened to be drunk. Because of this, I don’t drive drunk myself, but I am not so militant about drunk drivers. If I lost a loved one to a drunk driver, I still would not occupy my time or energy in pursuing “every other drunk driver on the planet”. Those people do that so they don’t go buy a gun and take out the *one drunk driver* that really matters “to them”. 🙂 I know, dark.
I am not just lucky, but work hard at keeping myself as safe as possible when I am fucking around with a drug as dangerous as alcohol. I like getting drunk, but I understand and respect the power of that drug, and I know that it’s ironic that out of all the drugs on the planet, this is the one “they” chose to sedate us with.
I really wonder how and why they could not have encouraged the use of marijuana over alcohol because it is so much less dangerous. Then, I remember that they only made marijuana illegal in the first place because they were racist and wanted an easy way to lock up as many minorities as they could. I have read that it started with Mexicans, but it worked so well for them that they kept the law in place for blacks. I am guessing that crack was a real boom to police unions and private prison investors, as well as a big win for racists everywhere who want to continue to lock up more people than any country in the world.
I also keep in mind how big pharma and big alcohol love the lack of competition from this meek little harmless plant. Occasionally, now that the walls are coming down against the removal of marijuana prohibition, people are trying to lump in pot smokers with alcoholics, and I am kind of offended, even though I happen to be both at the same time.
I know that if pot would have been legal, I never would have started using alcohol regularly in the first place. I have to wonder how many investors in big alcohol know this for a fact, and are close to knowing an exact statistic of how many regular customers they would not have if weed was legal.
I also wonder how much cancer could have been prevented or slowed down from killing so many people if weed was legal, since it has been proven that weed does inhibit tumor growth. I have read that this was discovered way back in the 70’s, but the information was suppressed because they were trying desperately to find something *wrong* with weed but just couldn’t.
In fact, I failed to mention how genesis 1:29 in the freaking bible says that God created all plants for man to use as food. Hemp happens to be perfectly nutritionally balanced, and yet, the christians are not in an uproar that this “sacred plant food” has been taken away from us.
I wouldn’t hold my breath waiting for the “food network” to talk about the merits of weed being the “perfectly balanced food” because they are so mainstream and busy slinging out the pro alcohol propaganda while they conveniently act like weed doesn’t exist. There is a “cocktail” recipe in nearly every show, with real alcohol, but they act like they have never heard of “marijuana edibles”.
I have to wonder how many people never would have resorted to overdosing on prescription medication if they never went to pills because they stayed happy with a little weed every day. I have to wonder how many people are in serious pain, and being denied those same pills even when a doctor orders them, because some dickhead at some pharmacy looked them over and labeled them a “drug addict”, even though they are %100 fucking legit.
All that makes me hate big pharma even more. if the drugs they make aren’t killing you, you are left dying in pain because the masochistic pharmacist doesn’t want to give you the shit that a real fucking doctor said you should have.
I don’t know, I like to say “I’m not crazy, this fucking reality is out of it’s fucking mind crazy.”
Of course, that is a typical statement of someone who is bat shit crazy, to assume that they are normal and the rest of the world is just fucked in the head.
In my case, when I look around at the world, and see comments people make online about different things, I really start to wonder if everybody is really fucked up in just one small way, and they are only functional because they can hold down that little bit of crazy long enough to get out of the public eye and express it in some kind of fucked up ritual.
I am happy just smoking a little weed, but that was “too much to ask”, before moving 2000 miles and going to a doctor for x-rays that show I need a hip replacement at the age of 46, and I am going to suffer in pain until it is replaced. If I still lived in Louisiana, they would be giving me fucking tylenol for this massive occasional hip pain. Louisiana can forever suck my balls.
Even now, I consider how after surgery, I will probably be given some heavy duty shit, and because I have long hair, the dickhead at the pharmacy might deny me of it when I really need it. On the other hand, I have a history with my pharmacist, and I don’t go in there all nervous, anxious, and itchy, bitching if there is any delay on my precious fucking pills. I have been in there and watched the kind of people they have no choice but to turn away. At the same time, the local news makes a big deal out of people who have had to go to up to 30 pharmacies to get one medication, and one of those fuckers was in a fucking wheelchair!
When I said “take me to the hospital” a little part of me had given up. I reached a kind of “rock bottom” that didn’t require a televised intervention or even the participation of family and friends. At the time, my family was literally scared of me more than they were scared for me, and my “friends” were pretty shitty and fucked up themselves at the moment.
I had nobody to turn to but myself, and while I did check in for a 3 day holiday, it was really educational. After all the alcohol I had abused, it wasn’t until I was on ativan that I managed to see from a slightly different perspective, and pull my head out of my ass long enough to finally start to straighten out all the shit that was fucked up with my life.
In a way, the visit to the hospital did absolutely nothing to improve my “condition” on it’s own. The medication combined with the intense boredom of being stuck with nobody to talk to but yourself was enough to change my perspective to the point where I realized that I either had to figure out a guaranteed way to take myself out, or I had to figure out a way to maximize the potential I have for growth and development in the future.
I think that a spiteful part of myself wanted to get back out there into “reality” just to see how much trouble I could cause without getting into trouble myself. In a way, I think I am still doing that. My work is pretty unique, because there aren’t many super sized, or super morbidly obese women who are approaching 500lbs who literally suck and fuck on the internet.
I had to sober up “just enough” to get a job, to keep the apartment, to meet a few women, to build my confidence, to get Candy back, to get back to work doing what I was meant to be doing all along.
In a way, my life is even more crazy now than it was when I was just drinking myself to sleep every time I woke up. I was boring, typical, useless alcoholic. Now, i create content that is just raunchy enough that it stands out against the competition just enough to pay me just enough to make me want to keep creating it.
I am kind of taking money away from other people who are doing the same thing. Every dollar I make I am grateful for because it’s a dollar someone could have spent somewhere else, but didn’t. I realize that everybody and their grandmother, LITERALLY, are trying to make a dollar in the adult realm online.
There are granny phone sex chicks that are super sized but don’t even use that to their advantage, or just started to recently, which gets them into modeling. That’s how I met and got started with Dia from bbwdungeon.com. She was in phone sex, she was a SSBBW, and she didn’t think that she could market her real look in order to promote her phone sex. Now women are doing it all the time.
I love saying “grannies” because I did some math and concluded that a woman is old enough to be a “granny” at just 32, if she had a kid at 16 and that kid had a kid at 16. When you raise that to 18, you get 36. If you raise it to 18, you get 42. Candy happens to be 42 right now. 🙂 I have concluded that when Candy does hardcore content, it is not just SSBBW hardcore, it is actually SSBBW granny hardcore. 🙂
Being a ‘granny’ isn’t just for “parents” anymore. 🙂 Being a MILF probably doesn’t require having kids anymore. Even if someone has biological kids, it doesn’t mean they have to have custody of said children when they do porn in order to be called a “MILF”. I think that is just one of many “flattering” terms that have been given to fetishes and sexual preferences that don’t involve magazine cut out “allegedly perfect women”.
For example, “BBW” is supposed to mean “big beautiful women”, but I have often commented upon how the “beautiful” is easily disputable not only based on facial charisma, but on personality and general attitude. In other words, there are some fat women out there who are just real bitchy cunts! They really don’t deserve to use bbw no matter what they look like, but I like to call them “big bitchy women”. 🙂
So, the content that I create can get a little crazy, because all I have to do is cross over into a few more fetishes and it gets insane. I put on a horse head mask for one video and so there is “mask play” and “pony play” as well as the already crazy combination of SSBBW granny porn. If I toss some food in there on top of that, you have “feed me fuck me” ssbbw granny porn with mask play.
I don’t know, but maybe I just found a way to end this post, and justify the title “take me to the hospital”. 🙂
Also, this reminds me of how badly I want to do another SSBBW “feed me fuck me” hardcore clip and Candy has been procrastinating because she is fixated on the food she wants for feedee videos!
My life really is “crazy”. 🙂
Time is funny. One can remember some events with such clarity, and yet, other events that might be more recent seem cloudy and distant. One can remember something from childhood as they reach middle age, yet most people can’t remember the dream they had the night before.
For some reason, negative events seem to imprint themselves into memory so much deeper than the positive ones, with a few exceptions here and there. I can remember the feeling of achievement when I passed the A+ computer tech certification test without having paid for any training or preparation classes. That memory is not as strong as the one of me driving back to Louisiana while leaving Alexis in Florida, and leaving behind my first successful bbw porn website at the same time.
I can remember some of the songs that played on the radio, like Duran Duran “Girls On Film”. I thought it was really ironic that I would catch that song from the very beginning as I flipped through an otherwise blank radio band in the middle of bum fuck nowhere Florida. I can remember that the weather was nice, and while it wasn’t too hot, I had to restrict my speed to under 55 miles per hour because the radiator in my 1985 Toyota pick up truck was partially clogged, and I had to leave Florida too urgently to replace it first.
I can only partially remember driving to Florida in that same truck, pulling a U-Haul trailer nearly full of junk to a house that was owned by the woman who would later install the fear of death into me with her lies and schemes. I can remember taking the plane to Orlando to meet her for the first time better than I remember driving myself there with all my stuff to “move in”.
I was such a fool to move in with that woman to begin with. I laugh and laugh when I hear about people living across the country from each other, meeting up a few times, then moving in with each other. I’m sure it might work occasionally, but I am now under the impression that you don’t really know someone until you have lived with them over a freaking year.
If you happened to move hundreds or even thousands of miles from your former home when you move in with someone, you are kind of trapped, unless you hold on to just enough cash to get your ass back home for the first whole year. I was dumb enough to get talked into marrying that woman within the first fucking year.
There is no way that I should have gotten married to her, but when she suggested it, I thought it would give me more security in ownership of the company I created if I was married to my partner. That was such a bad idea, because I was so fucking stupid I did not realize the company was really in her name, and so was the website that I poured so much of myself into.
When I got married to her I was entitled to “half”, but only if I was willing to stick around and fight her for it. By the time I was ready to leave Florida, I had no fight left in me. Alexis had me thrown in jail twice on made up bullshit. I was never arrested in my life before going to Florida, and now, at age 46, I have never been arrested since either. I’m lucky that I fought the charges instead of taking a plea deal, because I don’t have any record of any convictions, and I wasn’t forced to stay in Florida for months longer taking “court mandated anger management courses”.
I wasn’t going to fight her for that website or business, and I wasn’t going to stick around Florida one second longer than necessary once the charges were dropped against me. The very day of my final court date, when I was told I was free and clear of all that bullshit, I stopped by and said goodbye to one female friend that was special to me, I stopped by the bank where my business account was to empty that out, and I got on Interstate headed for “home”.
I didn’t even have a U-Haul trailer just yet, I made my first visit back home with my cash and the clothes on my back, leaving an apartment with a third of my stuff in place. Once I established residency back in Louisiana, I drove the 700 plus miles each way a second time to pick up the little bit of crap I could sneak out of her house without her knowing.
I was pretty bold back then, to even try to sneak my shit out of her house when I was waiting on a court date where she agreed to drop any charges that she had made up to begin with. Alexis not only lied to get me arrested, but she also lured me back to her house, to call the cops again, to have them catch me there and lock me up for violating a restraining order.
The first arrest was traumatic enough, but when she tricked me into coming over there just to get me arrested again, she just helped me to make up my mind to leave her and that business far behind as quickly as possible. The second arrest was so much worse, because I was already violating a ‘bond condition’, so I had to hire a second lawyer to get me out the second time, after having to stay in there for five days. The first arrest, I was in lock up overnight. The second arrest, I was in general population for almost a week.
The first lawyer was just for the divorce, and he tried to tell me that he could get me out of jail, but by the third day I was on the phone with another lawyer, paying $3000 on a credit card that I would never pay back. It’s wild, I never declared bankruptcy, but because I left the state of Florida and never allowed any credit agency to know where I was for seven years, nearly $20,000 was dropped right off the credit report. No bankruptcy lawyer needed, or wanted. I had enough with lawyers, and now I realize after all that stuff why people make such cruel jokes about them.
“What do you call a thousand lawyers at the bottom of the sea? A good start.”
I know that I got away without having to pay that credit off, which is good for me, but at the same time, Alexis was able to continue to collect any profit from the business I created for years after I left. It is a good thing she was so fucking ignorant and lazy about how to go about doing that, because her websites all started to go downhill once I left. People actually noticed, I still get occasional notes to this day.
The websites are still there. Someone purchased or was given the business “Bigger And Better Inc” and they continue to keep fatfantasy.net and biggerandbetter.net going to this day. I have lifted a few photos from there to show proof that it was me right there next to Alexis when that business was at it’s height.
I spent a whole year after I came back to Louisiana just getting my shit together. I had to get a job, I eventually had to replace the truck, and I had to find a place to live that didn’t do a credit check so that they would not find me to try to get a judgement, and so the apartment considering me would not see that I had just broken a lease in Florida to get the fuck out of there. I was only in that apartment for a few weeks, and left it cleaner than I found it, but they were entitled to make me buy myself out of the lease because I did sign one.
So, $20,000 in credit card debt, and a $4000 penalty for not finishing a lease. I got off cheap. A few years later, I would fuck up and skip filing income taxes for 2 years, so I did pay an extra $2000 for fucking up like that. I was still lucky in that case, because after spending years paying that off, I made a call and requested “penalty abatement” and I actually got out of paying the last $1000. Again, no scumbag fucking lawyer required for me to reduce my tax liability.
It would probably take them quite a while to get around to auditing me, because I was so fucking honest with them to take on that kind of penalty, pay it off, and keep taxes paid up every year since. I even keep receipts that could be legit business expenses but I don’t claim them, so if I am ever audited, I may actually be found to be wrong *IN MY FAVOR*. I’m sure they don’t get that too often!
It took me a whole year to run into a woman who happened to work with phone sex. She also had a website going, but she was buying skinny content and creating a website to resell it. She was probably doing ok back then with that, because there weren’t tens of thousands of porn sites in existence just yet. This was 2001.
More importantly, there still weren’t very many BBW specific porn sites, and virtually no porn sites that specialized in SSBBW. When I first met Dia, she had never modeled, even though she had an eloquent feminine figure that happened to include FF cup breasts.
Dia was already in the adult mindset, she just never realized how powerful her body type was, until she met me. She hadn’t done much research on the BBW niche’, even though she had been working in phone sex for years already before I even met her. While I was getting myself into all kinds of shit in Florida, she was sitting back making cash just talking dirty on the phone.
I would have thought right then and there that I had met my future forever partner. There was an issue though. Me. The experience I had been put through with Alexis, at that age, with that much loss, created a PTSD like syndrome where I became obsessed with getting credit for my work in Florida, and better, creating something all new that was all mine.
With Dia’s help, I got some pointers on design, and I was able to create a much more attractive site than fatfantasy.net ever was. I also pulled out 21 cd’s full of images from Florida and went to work using those to build my all new site, hotbbws.com.
Within just a few months, the checks started coming. My work had only been seen on one site before, so it wasn’t long before my photos started to get attention and make money. My site was prettier than her’s, even though looking at it now, it is not nearly as fancy as the current corporate assortment of bbw and ssbbw related porn sites.
I like to say that the prettier the site, the less content there probably is. I think that is a really correct assumption when I see the high quality design capability of some webmasters combined with models that quit after a few months, or are way too lazy to create new content on a regular basis!
I was so driven, but it was by revenge. I wanted revenge on Alexis, but not in the typical way that some people go crazy and destroy shit or hurt people. I saw a slogan on a daytime talk show before I ever left Florida where someone said “The best revenge is doing better.”
I could have taken my own advice back when Candy left both times, because I acted a damn fool online, and seemed to get off on making hurtful comments just to disturb people. It took me months after Candy left to attempt to get revenge by “doing better”, and by that time, I had already done too much damage to ever fully recover socially online.
I was crazy motivated to find new models in addition to using all this content I had. I was lucky to have photographed releases, ID’s, as well as about 2 dozen plus different bbws and ssbbws. I didn’t have any of the video, even though I was in almost all of them, and there were at least 2 dozen hardcore videos too. That was back in the days of VHS, before the internet had a prayer of ‘streaming’ a whole porn, television show, or movie.
That was back in the days of DSL and T1 lines. Alexis had invested in a T1, but once cable internet came out, that shit was totally obsolete. I bet that fucking woman kept paying hundreds a month for years on that shit, because the websites were hosted in a fucking garage.
Once I moved back to Louisiana, cable internet was available, and pretty cheap, and I was able to take full advantage of it. It was not long though, before Alexis saw what I was doing, got jealous, and went fucking crazy to knock my shit down. She harassed my hosting company, my internet billing company, and got me shut down by just being fucking annoying. These days I know it is not quite as easy to get someone closed down without a fight, because the companies that exist today are much more stable than the ones back then.
For example, my host was shitty, and over priced. My billing company was fucking GLOBILL. If you do any research on them, they fucking ripped off hundreds of people for thousands of dollars when the last fucking check they mailed out bounced, and people who had thousands of dollars coming in a month were FUCKED. To my knowledge, Globill never fully paid back any of the poor fucks they stole that money from. I hope those fuckers still have problems because of that shit.
It wasn’t long before IBILL went down next, and that was the company Alexis used. I was lucky to have been so fucking pissed at Alexis I would choose CCBILL before ever going to IBILL, JUST BECAUSE ALEXIS FUCKING USED THEM.
All this time a lot of other shit went down though. After Alexis got hotbbws.com version one shut the fuck down, I had to switch over to using all my own content, which luckily, I had been working on for a fucking year by then. Unluckily for Dia and me, my obsession to get new content pissed her off. She was too jealous at that time to understand my absolute need to find other models and pick up where I left off in Florida.
There was a point one day when I had made plans to photograph someone, and Dia was ok with it at first, but of course, we got into an argument right before I was supposed to leave. I was still so fucked up from Florida. I was doing all of this shit just to get back at Alexis, and prove that all that fucking work was mine. I didn’t even care about the fucking money, I just wanted credit for all that fucking work!
Little did I know at the time, if I could have afforded a lawyer, I could have shown that because I was the photographer, I had rights to use that work, and I could have further sued her for damages in getting me shut down. Either way, I fucking hated lawyers, and I didn’t want to fight her. In fact, soon after I got to Louisiana, I cut off all contact with her so that I could not be accused of harassment back in the days before “stalking” existed.
The argument with Dia was heated, and she was so pissed at one point that she said something that I could never forget, and could not accept at the time after Florida. She said “Do you know how easy it would be to kill you in your sleep?”
Now, if it was me in the present, I would give her suggestions on exactly how to go about doing that without it hurting me or fucking up and leaving me alive and fucked up. I have that kind of sense of humor, and now I am old enough to welcome death as long as it’s not too painful and I don’t have too much time to suffer.
Back then, I was still traumatized from Alexis. That bitch had me thinking at one point that people wanted to blow up her house, people were following me, she had mafia affiliations, people were being kidnapped and tortured for information, and we were in debt to an organization that was providing protection.
All that was such stupid bullshit, and I was such a fucking dumb fuck to believe it for a second. I let that foolishness go on for about 3 weeks, and one night, I got fed up. Alexis sent me to what was supposed to be a 24 hour post office, and she gave me fucked up directions, and I was in the middle of nowhere. I hate wild fucking goose chases! I pulled up to a payphone, and at the risk of being shot in the head right then and there, I made one phone call. I called her bluff by risking my very life.
That’s what I mean when I say that Alexis put the fear of death in to me while there. It was only 3 weeks, and I was the one to blame for believing such an outrageous set of lies. I still have the micro cassettes that I used to bug her phone after she pulled that shit, just to see what other fucking shit she would come up with.
I let my mother listen to those tapes before she died, and she was on “team Thomas” after that. She sat back and listened to Alexis talk to another woman about how she knew an ex cop and could have me “taken care of”. That, and a few other statements, provided more than enough encouragement for me to get the fuck out of there. When confronted, Alexis would claim that she knew I had the phone bugged and she said that shit to bait me.
She was a liar, but she was too fucking stupid to get over on me once I busted her compulsive, pathological liar ass. I know that shit was for real, because there was another conversation with her son in law, who was a cop, about how a “pattern of arrest” could show a pattern of domestic abuse, and enable her to forcefully push me out of the home, the marriage, and the business. She didn’t need to do all that shit. All she had to do was ask me to fucking leave.
On another conversation, she talked to someone else about how she had everything “set up” to take over, but she needed my help, and she needed my work ability. I once told Alexis when I knew shit was going downhill that when I finally had enough and left, it would take five different people to do “my job”. To this day, I still believe that to be absolutely true, because i have listed off the many jobs I have to do in another post somewhere I don’t want to stop to dig up.
Before I finally left, before the last court date that would free me forever from her, I had a conversation with her about how I am “out of control” and maybe I should just go back home and leave everything to her. She started crying, begging, pleading for me to stay because she “needed my help”.
I told her that I had a few conversations with her friends that revealed some wild shit. That was the cover I used to avoid telling her that I was still bugging the fucking phone. It was a lot easier to bug a land line phone than it would be to bug a cell, but I imagine even that is not impossible, or very difficult. The fact that I was even compelled to go to a “spy store” in 2000 and buy a voice activated micro cassette recorder and a microphone cable that plugged into a phone jack with a double phone jack plug let me know that shit was out of control already and I had to get out. I was just looking for a reason by the time I was waiting months for my second court date after spending five fucking days in jail and blowing $3000 to get my ass out.
I have to wonder how long it took for Debbie to call Alexis when I stopped by her work to tell her I was on my way “home”. I was really telling both “Little Debbie” and “Big Debbie” at the same time because they worked together. They had both modeled, and I had been filmed having sex with both of them. Alexis would be the only one to see that money after I left, except for the $3000 that I pulled out of the business account and kept in my sock on the drive home.
Back to Dia though for a moment. When Dia told me just how easy I could be murdered, potentially by her, while I was sleeping, it was too much at that time for me to accept. I still regret bringing her to that state of anger myself. The real irony is in the fact that the woman I went to see could not even take photos because her relatives here staying in a trailer near by, or some bullshit. That fucking bitch made me drive nearly an hour each way to tell me that shit instead of letting me cancel online. She caused me to literally kick Dia out of my apartment for saying what she said because she was rightfully angry and upset at me.
I didn’t just put Dia out on the street. I was still friends with my second ex wife Stori at the time. Stori appears on hotbbws.com too, but only in the member’s area, because she wanted to be “discreet”. I was way too agreeable as a fucking pornographer back then! I would tell Dia that I would stay with Stori, and she could take as long as she needed to get her shit together and get the fuck out. I still can’t fucking believe I did that to her.
Because I was so driven at the time to replace my work lost in Florida, and then lost a second time at hotbbws.com, I had to do it. I don’t think I could do that to her now if I was in that situation all over again. I still feel badly about it, and I resent Alexis more because of how badly she fucked me up over there. I really should have gotten counseling for that shit, and so much other shit to follow!
Dia took about a week to two weeks to prepare, and I took her to the bus station, and she went “somewhere”. I don’t even remember now, because she is not where she went at this time. I still talk to her online, and have talked to her by phone, and I have apologized profusely for doing that to her back then. I just could not handle it. I was so fucked up. She had a quick temper, and odds are, I would have pulled some shit sooner or later that would have caused us to break up. I still think she is one of the most beautiful women I have ever had the pleasure and privilege of photographing.
I am fortunate that she is so gracious and forgiving, so that I can still count her among my friends, even if she is so very far away like all of the closest ones, except for Candy. I still maintain bbwdungeon.com as an ad for her phone sex, which she still freaking does. Exoticbbw.com was originally her’s, and she gave it to me when she decided she wanted to stick with phone sex over websites.
Bbwdungeon.com was once a member site, but I could not sustain the costs of hosting it back when I had really shitty hosting. Thankfully the hosting issue is resolved, so I can finally add shitloads of stuff to all the sites. The problem with me lately is the block I have in working with hotbbws.com or lots2luv.com. The reasons for that block are partially explained somewhere else I’m sure, and explaining it again here would drag me way off course, more than I already am.
I hit over 4k in words so far, and now I think I have gotten myself kind of lost. I realize that I had to come back to Dia, after going way off course with Alexis, and then Stori, and of course Candy. There is something I realize is vitally important to go with all of this, and I still haven’t figured out the title of this post just yet, but my stream of consciousness writing always seems to come full circle, eventually.
Because Dia was so fucking hot and my paranoid ass dropped her, I had to find more models. I was working full time as a computer tech with the small shop I worked at before going to Florida, before upgrading from that job to a tech job in New Orleans that I hated having to drive to, park for, and hated them for giving me shit when I failed a drug test 3 months into working for them, as they casually said they “forgot” to do it pre-employment.
That is a whole other fucking story right there, because the fact that they pulled that shit encouraged me to move to Florida and start fatfantasy.net instead of having to suck a boss’s dick every day. They couldn’t just fire me because they failed to give me the drug test before hiring me and paying me for 3 fucking months. They just wanted to give me a shitty assignment in http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chalmette,_Louisiana, which I wasn’t fucking having.
It’s bad enough that these assholes made me come to work the day that hurricane “George” hit in 1998, and left me stranded in a Bourbon Street bar watching television until the water went down so I could see if my fucking truck got flooded while parked under interstate. Luckily, the truck was ok, the shoes weren’t.
Anyway, anybody who has heard about hurricane Katrina knows what happened to Chalmette. If the drive to New Orleans every fucking day and evening wasn’t bad enough, they wanted me to go another half hour to fucking shitty Chalmette. I would be a computer tech in an oil refinery having to wear a fucking biosuit.
That is an important fact to keep in mind, because that fucking computer company influenced me to move to Florida to begin with, and start my life of being a fat fetish ‘pornographer’ forever.
Also, on a side note, those alleged ‘flushes’ to help you pass a drug test DON’T FUCKING WORK. DON’T FUCKING TRY IT. USE SAFE PISS. I was asked by a co-worker when word got around that I failed the drug test “Why didn’t you bring in someone else’s piss like everybody else does?” Too honest for my own fucking good.
I didn’t fuck up like that when I got a job at CompUSA. I was so lucky to have a friend that didn’t smoke weed!
Back to the point. Because I had to dump Dia because I was a paranoid little bitch, I had to find other models. I did just that. Over the course of the next year I would end up luring at least a half dozen bbws and ssbbws to taking photos. I had to weed through the ones who didn’t want to sign a release and just have sex. I had to avoid the ones who just wanted “personal pics”. I had to focus on finding the ones who would let me copy their ID, and sign a fucking model release, and not bitch months later for me to remove them because they are a dumb ass who told the wrong person and they told the really wrong person.
I stumbled upon Candy around that time. Candy would be the death of me and my ambition to find as many models as I could, eventually. We met in early 2002, we were living together by the end of 2002, and we stayed in an open relationship “with conditions” until feb of 2008. I was able to “hook up” with a woman if she was willing to give up the ID and sign a release and be on my websites. That was the only condition.
That meant certain types of women who would inevitably contact me were off limits. A good example of that is “teachers”. I can’t tell you how many times I got an email from a teacher who said “I used to model but I started teaching and…” and i quit fucking reading. Sorry. Not really. Next.
Now, I sit back and watch wave after wave of new models coming into the picture, doing some work, quitting, then appearing in stolen images used to promote dating sites. Every time I see a brand new bbw or ssbbw model doing this or that, I sit back and wait until she quits, or has weight loss surgery, or both.
No matter who just started, or who just quit, there is always another wave of new models coming in and going out. Some of the ones going out like to stick around in the periphery of porn, by running group parties or annual conventions. They are still relevant to the bbw scene, but they still quit.
It is so ironic, that I had to reject and dump so many women over the course of my life to find, lose, and recover Candy. Once I met Candy, I was doomed. I must have fallen in love with her instantly, because I tried to “return her” back to where I found her, but after a few months, she always re-appeared.
Even when she left for 4 months and then for 8 months, I remained obsessed, because there could never be another woman who had the effect on me she did instantly, and further, I had never met another woman who cared enough about my own agenda to let me have it without greedy or jealous emotional restraint.
Once I was ready to give up all other women, I realized internally that I was giving up my old technique in finding new models too. In a way, I kind of “quit” myself, but I didn’t, because I still have her. As many times as I have lost her, i knew, that even if I came across a woman who was similar, there was no way to build up that kind of history with someone else. At 46 years old, I don’t think I have time to go through all of that over again and still be young enough to physically do the shit by the time I did.
I did meet one woman while Candy was gone, that I already went into great detail about. She is the unnamed ssbbw that I showed in the last post. I realized as I re-read the previous post that I said I never used a single photo of her in the 4 years that I had them. By posting her here, I just did.
By bringing up hotbbws.com and lots2luv.com I am kicking myself for not working on them more already. I don’t care about the money, I care about the unused content that sits on DV tapes in a back room closet. I have a computer that I set up with a firewire card just because of that camera and those tapes. I have hours of tapes of the unnamed ssbbw and I will be glad if 4 years in time travel didn’t fuck those tapes up.
I had to add another photo, the last one was after sex, so I’m sure it was not as flattering as this one. This photo was shot in an apartment in Metairie, Louisiana. If I had not moved to Las Vegas the last time when I did, I would have been holding Candy’s hand walking out of this apartment in 4 feet of water during hurricane Katrina.
Fate is a funny thing. Showing Dia at that apartment reminds me that I lived in Vegas before, and I was fucking lucky to have packed everything in that shitty car and have the exhaust scrape the interstate on nearly every big bump because of how all that shit and Candy’s huge ass was weighing that crappy car down. The transmission didn’t last too long after that 2 way trip 2000 miles each way.
The only woman I met when Candy was gone that impressed me nearly as much as her was married and living with her husband and kid. I am still shocked that she did the ID and release, and I really should have added her sooner. Maybe I was worried that with her living situation she might come back on me to remove her. Now 4 years has passed, maybe she forgot about it altogether. 🙂
Now I have used 2 images of this unnamed SSBBW. There is hope I can overcome the block I mentioned before with the 2 inactive sites. This woman is far too impressive to sit on my drive forever.
Just like I said before, no matter how many new models start, or older ones quit, there is always another wave, even if they took photos over 4 years ago! 🙂