Monday, February 9, 2009

An Addendum from the Creator of TOWELBOY

TowelBoy is not very smart. For days, I have been shattered by the rumor that I'm somehow compiling customers' personal information and tracking their automobiles. I haven't slept or eaten, worried that my valued members think that I'm some sort of crazy turncoat. I even posted "A Message About Privacy", which I sincerely hope you'll read.

I've been perusing the blog and enjoying your comments. I occasionally like to go through the entries and read my own work. I can see mistakes much more clearly after time, and I hope this clarity improves my writing in the future. I was stunned after reading over recent entries to discover the source of the address/automobile rumor that's circulating on Craig's List: ME!! In a December posting, I was rambling about Hot Tranny Messes. In one of my stories I mentioned that I noticed that a customer lived in an affluent neighborhood and that he put an expensive automobile key in the security box. In hindsight, that was incredibly stupid. Let me assure you that I was trying to support my story, and I didn't even consider that I may be mentioning information that some would find alarming. I, as it turns out, am the Hot Tranny Mess.

Let me say for the record that I have no interest in anyone's personal information. I was trying to use those points (stupidly) to support my story. Sitting here now, I have no recollection what the "affluent" neighborhood was. I can often attribute a key to its manufacturer. The reason is really simple: I'm a bit of an idiot-savant when it comes to car logos. I recognize the logo on the key. That's how I knew he drove an Audi. I have no idea what model, what color, etc. I could never actually use the logo information from the key to find someone's car. I now see why everyone was so alarmed, and I apologize for my indiscretion.

Confidentiality makes generating web content extremely difficult. I frequently take stories from my own life and my own unique generalizations and try to spin a clever tale. It's a (sometimes ineffective) attempt at humor. Since I really can't say anything sexy or scandalous without betraying confidentiality, I try to get people to come to the website with humor. I don't think of me as "TowelBoy". In my mind, he's this invented character with his own personality, experiences, and opinions. Although I often tell my own personal stories through this character, I always to write these stories in what I believe to be TowelBoy's voice. He has fictional aspects that I've invented to make a point, or to simply crack a joke. Perhaps I've gotten carried away. I apologize if I've caused any anxiety with my comments. My intention was to entertain you, not to upset you. I take protecting your privacy very seriously.

I have read the offending entry repeatedly, and I can't find any specific information that could betray a customer's identity. If you ever think I've gone too far, please let me know. I read every comment. If something concerns our members, it should concern me, too.

Please read "A Message About Privacy". Please ignore my stupid comments about folks trying to bring us down. (I sound like Hillary Clinton screaming "vast right wing conspiracy" while Bill was getting blown.) And most of all, please forgive this Hot Tranny Mess.

AKA "TowelBoy"

Sunday, February 8, 2009

A Message About Privacy

Hello -

Recently, friends and co-workers have brought some unsettling rumors to my attention. I guess it's appeared on Craig's List that I, as a Club Pittsburgh employee, keep extraordinary surveillance on our members' personal information. It's rumored that I know all our customers' addresses, as well as the cars they drive. Nobody has bothered to contact me directly to ask me about these rumors – it's all “anonymous” postings on internet message boards. Let me say that I have no interest in our membership's personal information whatsoever. Such information is of no use to me.

I have worked very hard over the past seven years to separate my personal life from my professional endeavors. I do not live in a neighborhood that is popular with the gay community. That is intentional. I don't drink, and I'm not a very social person by nature. Therefore, I do not patronize the gay community's bars, clubs, or after-hours establishments. I'm not criticizing these business -- it's just not my lifestyle. I am not a member of any of the gay community's social or charitable organizations, including the Delta Foundation. I have made a conscious choice not to get involved. I have no vested interests in the politics of the gay community beyond fulfilling my professional obligations and earning my paycheck. I have no social connection to the owners and employees of the city's other gay businesses. In fact, because I'm more or less a recluse by choice, I haven't even met most of them. I HAVE NO ANIMOSITY TOWARDS ANY OF THE BUSINESS OWNERS, THE CHARITABLE ORGANIZATIONS, OR THEIR EMPLOYEES. I ENCOURAGE EVERYONE TO PATRONIZE THESE BUSINESSES, AND TO STAY ACTIVE AND INVOLVED. I JUST SIMPLY CHOOSE TO LIVE MY OWN LIFE PRIVATELY. I work at Club Pittsburgh because of the excellent wage and benefits. That, in turn, provides me with security to quietly live my life outside of Pittsburgh's gay drama. I just want to do my job and be left alone.

Even if I were interested in our customers' personal information, the sheer volume would make keeping track of it impossible. I see hundreds of customers each week, which I'm sure has amounted to tens of thousands over the past seven years. That's tens of thousands of names and addresses. I'd like to think that I'm a reasonably intelligent guy, but frankly, I can't remember what I had for breakfast this morning. I do not have the capacity to retain that much information. I am not Rain Man. The claim that I somehow know what you drive is even more ridiculous. Club Pittsburgh doesn't have a parking lot for customers. I never even see their automobiles. I have joked to customers that I have a knack for identifying a manufacturer by a key. But a generic GM or Chrysler key could potentially start hundreds of different models. I could not waltz down the street and identify someone's car by the key.

For the past few years, part of my job responsibility has been to maintain and expand some sort of web community. Writing this blog and generating web content has been extremely difficult because I am so committed to protecting our members' privacy. Because I don't want to betray anyone's confidentiality, I will often use stories from my own life as filler. These blog entries are always a light-hearted attempt at humor, and I frequently fill my stories with exaggeration and hyperbole. Perhaps comments that I have made in the past have been taken out of context or misconstrued. I record your personal information when you visit Club Pittsburgh because it's part of my job. Frankly, that information is of no use to me personally.

If I was ambivalent about the Pittsburgh gay community before the events of the last month, I am now certain that I have no personal interest in all this drama. I have known for seven years that there are some members of our community that bear considerable animosity towards Club Pittsburgh. Each person is entitled to his own system of values and believes, and although I do not understand these prejudices, I've tried not to let them interfere with me doing my job. Lately, the attacks and accusations have become very personal. I am completely stunned and deeply saddened by all of this. I have always tried my best to be a good employee and an excellent servant to our customers. In fact, that's true of all of the fine men that have been my co-workers over the years.

I realize that these prejudices are the crusade of a very small minority. I am grateful for the love and support of the majority, who has been so kind and generous to us for all of these years. Thank you for your phone calls, your emails, and your kind words when you visit the club. It's your support that has made the recent hassles of my job worthwhile.


Thursday, January 29, 2009

Not So Fast, Sally!

TowelBoy has been hearing shocking rumors of his demise all through the Steel City. Not so fast, Sally. I realize that Club Pittsburgh has received a lot of media attention lately. I personally have hired an entire staff just to manage KDKA super snooper Marty Griffin. (I do not appreciate your comments, Marty. If anyone is going to soil my reputation, it's going to be me.) I know that there are lots of rumors and speculations. I get inundated with emails daily. Although I'm genuinely moved by your legitimate concerns, some of the wild rumors have made TowelBoy laugh so hard that I've soiled my hoochie pants. Allow me to set the record straight...

FACT: On January 4, a member passed away at the club. Although it appears to be a tragic accident, the medical examiner has not determined the cause of death. The media has made wild speculations, but no official cause of death has been released. The owners, managers, and staff of Club Pittsburgh are deeply saddened by this event, and we offer our condolences to his family and friends. As with any untimely death, there is an investigation. The same inquiry would have occurred had this accident happened at a bar, a club, a hotel, or McDonald's. Club Pittsburgh is cooperating fully with the authorities.

FACT: Club Pittsburgh was not "raided". No membership information has been subpoenaed or compromised. There is absolutely no chance that any member's identity or confidential information will be publicized. The investigation is driven by this unfortunate death, not the nature of the club. Enjoying the club responsibly is perfectly legal, and you will not be arrested for visiting Club Pittsburgh.

FACT: In light of recent events, the management and staff at Club Pittsburgh is more determined than ever to enforce our rules. Drug use or distribution will not be tolerated. We have always worked very hard to keep drug activity out of the club. For your safety and protection, we have increased our efforts. All members are expected to abide by the rules. I mentioned above that you will not be arrested for enjoying the club responsibly. You may be arrested if you choose to violate our drug and alcohol policies.

FACT: We are not closed. I've heard nobody even mention closing, and I'd be the first to know. And I have a huge mouth, so you'd know immediately. I'd probably even send you a text. Thankfully, it's business as usual. Nothing about the Club Pittsburgh experience has changed. We do have new hours because of the slower winter season. I expect our hours will return to normal in the Spring. You can find the special winter hours on our homepage.

FACT: The owners or attorneys or police or the Holy Boo haven't suspended the blog. TowelBoy is just extremely lazy, and he figured this was a good time for a little winter break. I've been planning to take January off since October. Wait until February -- I will be annoying the masses from my desktop once again.

So what have we learned, Sally? First, don't believe everything you see in an internet chat room or hear from Drunkerella at the bar. Sometimes even the paper or the television news only gets half the story. Poor Marty just won't let this pass. Between you and me, he asked if he could take a tour, so perhaps he's just bi-curious. It's business as usual, nobody is getting arrested, and the district attorney is not calling your mother. We're still making your privacy and security our first priority.

I hope to see all of you soon. I miss being rude to you.

Resuming my hibernation,

Wednesday, December 31, 2008

Happy New Year, You Hot Tranny Mess

TowelBoy personally supports the plight of our transsexual...hmm...brothers & sisters. I personally believe that gender identity, much like sexuality, is rarely a clearly definable, black and white entity. Most of us exist somewhere between the extremes of masculine and feminine. Hell, I'm practically a transsexual myself. That's why I have to clarify that I mean absolutely no malice to the trans-gendered community when I refer to something or someone as a “Hot Tranny Mess”. I realize this could be construed as offensive. But for some reason, I just can't stop saying it. “Hot Mess” just doesn't seem very lyrical to me; inserting “tranny” in the middle makes it phraseology at it's finest. I have moved beyond janky and discovered the beautiful world of the Hot Tranny Mess. And let me tell you, people, examples abound.

And now you're asking, “TowelBoy, what exactly do you consider a Hot Tranny Mess?” I'm glad you asked. Let's say a beautiful young guy comes into the bathhouse. In his mid-twenties, he's physically flawless and could easily pass for nineteen. He has seductive eyes, a perfect body, and a smile that could melt butter. I nosily spy his license and discover that he resides in the city's most exclusive real estate. (Patches gets mad when I look at the address on the ID. I have a compulsive need to track these queens for migratory purposes.) The handsome, well-dressed, debonnaire gentleman pays for a gaggle of his most attractive young friends to enter. He buys all sorts of accoutrements, such as lube, poppers, cockrings, and the nouveau chic anal spike, bringing his total to something a little greater than what I spend on hormones. During the transaction I can't help but notice that he smells delicious. He's polite to the point of condescending. He comes to the next window and puts a shiny new Audi key in the lockbox. With his items secure and his followers in tow, the beautiful demigod winks at his laymen and disappears into the abyss. I've suddenly discovered that it's incredibly warm in here, and I don't know where I'm going with this. Why wasn't I on this boy like Oprah on a Dorito? Oh – I remember. This entire group of Young, Rich, and Divine was more intoxicated (and altered) than Drunkerella on a birthday bender. My guess is that they're “friends of Tina”, and I'm not talking about that good-time gal with the badonkadonk. It took all the discipline of Angie Jolie at a Happy Husband's Convention for the hot friend with a striking resemblance to certain talk-show queen's heartthrob husband to remain in an upright position during the check-in process. (This infamous cutie has a reputation for maintaining a rock-hard erection while completely unconscious. It's truly a magic wand.) Honestly, if I had a group of beautiful men following me like the Pied Piper into the depths of a hedonistic haven, I'd certainly want to remember it in the morning. Frankly, I'd probably be scribbling in my little notebook while it was happening. Yet I have a hunch that nobody in that bunch had any recollection of their bathhouse adventures the next day. The whole scene looked like a very special episode of Shadyside 90210. Young, rich, beautiful....yet irretrievably altered? That's a Hot Tranny Mess!

I just wanted to explain this because “Hot Tranny Mess” is truly the new “Janky”. I look around and see Hot Tranny Messes everywhere. The leaky office ceiling at Club Pittsburgh is a Hot Tranny Mess. My coffee-stained wardrobe is a Hot Tranny Mess. My inability to understand the difference between a hedge fund and a hedge hog makes me a Hot Tranny Mess. (Apparently, I won't be driving the Audi anytime soon. But I'm really looking forward to government cheese.) And it goes on & on. So now when it comes up, and I'm sure it will, you'll understand what in the hell I'm talking about. I have a hunch that 2009 will be full of them.

The ten days between the winter solstice and the new year is easily the busiest period of the year at Club Pittsburgh. (Yep – way busier than even Pride.) I always warn my co-workers that keeping the yule tide gay is no easy task, and we're probably going to get our asses kicked. This year has been no exception. Obviously nobody has told the randy gays that we're in the middle of an economic meltdown, because over the past week I have personally serviced every horny homosexual in the tri-state area. Saturday night was the third busiest shift since we opened seven years ago. The only other two shifts to beat Saturday night in attendance were both immediately following Pride in the Street events. In spite of a whopper recession, this has been the busiest holiday season that I can remember. From Christmas night through the last few days, it's been crazy. I'm completely expecting to take it up the ass on New Year's Eve. (I mean we're going to be really busy, Mary. I'm not that kind of girl.) Friday night was a really fun, eclectic crowd; Saturday night was pure youth and beauty. This year we truly saw many flavors of guys, and I think the crowd had a little something for everyone. For us, the holiday season is usually a preview of the year to come. I love you like a fat girl loves cake, Erin Burnett (Google her. She'll make you crave vagina.), but I have to disagree with CNBC and all the economic naysayers – 2009 is looking mighty damn fine.

It is amazing to me that we're just hours away from the start of the last year of the first decade of the new millennium. (And I just finished my Y2K Emergency Kit, too.) Time goes by so incredibly quickly, and embedded precious moments are fast and fleeting. Life happens with such speed and fervor that we often don't realize that good things are happening until they're gone. I've spent the better part of this decade behind the window at Club Pittsburgh. I've enjoyed over seven years of amazing moments and wonderful memories, and I'm sure I've missed a few, too. I'd like to thank my employers for the opportunity, my co-workers for the friendship, and you for the adventure. I look forward to an amazing 2009 with all of you.

Happy New Year. Have fun, but don't be a Hot Tranny Mess.

Thursday, December 18, 2008

Kiss My JANKY Ass

TowelBoy is juiced up over all things janky. Any day now, I'm bound to write a long post about all the wonderful things that happened in 2008. I'm hopelessly nostalgic and tend to look back on even the most horrendous events with laugh or a smile. With a little bit of time, just about any tragedy or difficulty turns into a Lifetime Movie in my estrogen-soaked brain. My mind is a denial converter that turns monumental disasters into pleasant memories. Okay, so Bubba hijacked my Thanksgiving and ruined my holiday. (Two days pass.) Oh, she's a pill! Okay, so my cat Socks has urinary crystals that clogged his urethra and I lost my entire stimulus check having his penis vacuumed. (Two days pass.) Oh, he's so cute & fuzzy! Okay, so I have an unfortunate encounter with Chlamydia Connie and now my own urethra is clogged. (Two days pass.) Oh, isn't Cipro a medical marvel! You get the point. Hormones and tequila take over, and everything formerly awful is now absolutely fabulous. So I've decided to make a list of all things janky so that I can refer to it later when I'm drunk on sentiment. (Or Stolichnaya). First, a little vocabulary lesson: As you may recall, janky is a word carefully developed by Queen-in-Crisis Esta La Mierda meaning something between “junky” and “skanky”. A broken eyeliner pencil is janky; so is an imitation-Latina dancing whore. The word is really quite versatile. It can be used to describe anything that's “not quite right”. And for me, really, thinking of something as janky instead of junky or skanky takes it from bad to badd (as in “Get on with your badd self!”). In the holiday spirit of (temporarily) feeling (not so) good, here is TowelBoy's short list of 2008's jankiest things.

My camera. Did you notice that this blog doesn't have photographs anymore? That's because the cheap-ass digital camera that I bought at Walmart is janky. I purchased the camera as a Christmas gift to myself two years ago. It was tragedy from the start. First, the imbecile associate in the electronics department double-charged my check card. I discovered this three days later when I went to buy groceries for my Thanksgiving dinner and the card was declined. It took three calls to the customer service manager and a Shwami curse on Bentonville to solve that hot mess. Then I spent enough money on batteries to feed a third-world nation. (Had I read the instruction manual, I would have known to buy rechargeables.) Of course, the version of Windows Shit-sta on my computer doesn't recognize the device, so I had to upload and edit my pictures on the office computer at Club Pittsburgh. (But it did make me look busy at work, which I appreciate.) The last straw came a few months ago when I was trying to photograph my ass (literally) for my online profile. I was stunned when I uploaded the images onto the screen. Admittedly, I don't have Tina's ba-donk-adonk, but my glutes aren't exactly janky. Something was definitely wrong. Either that camera is broken or my ass looks like cherry Jello with fruit cocktail suspended in the middle. Those photos wouldn't even get me a senate seat, let alone a handsome Bohemian gentleman from Pittsburgh's east end. Obviously, I threw that janky digital disaster in the trash and found a cute Point Park art major to paint my ass instead.

Cindy Sealer. Due to many years of use and abuse, lots of equipment at Club Pittsburgh is approaching janky. That, frankly, could be a separate list. From DVD players to gas dryers (see below), our hard-working, over-used machines and electronics are always on the verge of a breakdown. One gadget that's been at the brink of death longer than Dick Cheney is Cindy Sealer. Cindy Sealer, also known as the HeatSeal H110, is our card laminator. If you have a Club Pittsburgh membership card in your wallet, clutch, or man-purse (or you've lost one when you upgraded any of those), you have been personally touched by Cindy Sealer. In theory, we put a laminating sleeve over the new membership card, insert that card in the front of the sealer, and the card comes out the back with an impenetrable coating melted protectively over it. Cindy, ironically, is screwy and confused. Sometimes she prefers that you stick the card in the rear. (This befuddles me, and I have to hold it upside down to see what I'm doing.) She grunts and groans and squeals and squeaks. Patches thinks she's transmitting messages from extraterrestrials. Sometimes it takes multiple insertions, and sometimes she doesn't seal at all. Frequently, the lamination is jumbled or rippled. After two days the seal falls apart. Yet she keeps trudging along, card after agonizing card. Truly, that janky laminator is Tiny Tim in mechanical spirit. Get your tissues out, because here's the part that's really sad: Poor Cindy Sealer makes this Herculean effort to laminate a proper membership card, and these queens lose it as soon as they walk out the door. That's kind of...well...janky.

TowelBoy's Toe & Tooth. I've written previously about the perpetual perils of my Funky Toe and my Drag Tooth. Both can be accurately described as janky. Let me be frank, Mary: There aren't a lot of prospects for a fading starlet like me. My time in the conjugal sun is quickly passing. I just don't look like the kids on Gossip Girl anymore. And any physical malady just reduces my chances of connubial companionship. Basically, the toe and the tooth are detriments to getting a husband. I have made some progress with these janky appendages, though. Thanks to Walmart cotton balls and hand sanitizer, I have practically eradicated my funky toe. (This is not for those with weak stomachs.) I pinch off a piece of cotton the size of a healthy pea, squirt a dab of hand sanitizer of equal size in the palm of my hand, and then roll the cotton in the medicinal goo. I then force the sterilized cotton wad under my toenail with a key from a '95 Olds Achieva. (Seriously. The car is long gone, but the key continues to protect and serve.) I immediately cover my foot with a tight (and usually mismatched) sock to keep the cotton from shooting out of the nail. Once the cotton is secured, I can pick from one of three pairs of shoes that don't cause blinding pain. I can wear them for approximately six hours. (Thank goodness I don't work the standard ''eight hour'' day!) I estimate that in three short years, the cotton will force the nail to grow properly, and my funky toe will be cured. The Drag Tooth is a little trickier. Obviously, I can not perform oral sex with a Buick* in my mouth. And if I can't perform fellatio, how am I supposed to build a solid (fifteen minute) relationship? *(Okay, I love the word “Buick”, but I've learned from experience that a bathhouse parking lot full of Buicks means that there's been a security breech at Shady Pines. I recommend high-tailing it out of there. Don't worry – you can outrun them.) The best way to alleviate the pressure on my jaw is to chase an extended-release pseudoephedrine tablet with an analgesic and/or alcoholic beverage. Thanks to the Tina Queens and their “PNP”, Michael Chertoff and the Department of Homeland Security have put limits on how much pseudoephedrine We the Congested can purchase. (Seriously. It's actually part of the PATRIOT Act, if you can believe that. Google it.) I have no choice but to buy Sudafed PE (phenylephrine), which is just janky. I have discovered, however, that it will down-grade Drag Tooth to a janky tooth if you triple the recommended dose and choose more potent distilled spirits.

The Amish Kidney. Poor Patches has a janky kidney. I think this explains why he's generally cranky and bloated. (It's not your imagination – those koolats are a little tighter lately.) You see, his kidney is inhabited by this little tiny tumor that he's affectionately named Timmy. Don't worry – Timmy isn't cancer or anything particularly malicious. He's just this lumpy (my hunch is ''fatty'', too) cyst that causes poor Patches occasional discomfort and bleeding. Club Pittsburgh has welcomed Timmy into its extended family. At regular intervals, Patches goes to the urologist, has some really cool digital pictures of Timmy taken, and adds them to a scrap book that we've started for our little fibroid friend. The Sisters of Mercy then examine the photographs to make sure Timmy hasn't shifted, multiplied, or aborted. (I just hope they read his chart carefully, because those sisters have a reputation for organ-eating.) Medical science isn't quite sure how Timmy appeared. Perhaps it's a genetic defect passed down through generations of Amish brethren. Maybe it was caused by Patches' hard living during the Carter years. (And a brief, fuzzy period in 1993 when he thought Ernest Borgnine was President.) Or possibly Timmy the Tiny Tumor appeared as a reckoning for seven (plus) years of battling the insurgent queens on the Club Pittsburgh night shift. (My personal favorite theory is that the grotesque growth was caused by ME.) Don't worry – Timmy the Tiny Tumor is definitely painful and debilitating, but not (necessarily) life-threatening. Patches and the tumor, with the help of numerous opioid analgesic prescriptions and a little nip of gin, have learned to co-exist with mutual appreciation and good humor. That is, of course, unless the janky bastard bursts. That is potentially deadly, obviously, or at the very least excruciating. But it would make a wicked story for Weezie to text to all of her friends. Be sure to give her your number so you'll be one of the first (million) to know! (That's assuming her janky Red Cross phone holds up.)

The Unimac Dryer. Initially, the Unimac washer/dryer was heaven sent. It could wash and dry a batch of big-girl towels in no time at all. We could stuff that sucker like Aretha Franklin at the Inaugural buffet, and everything would come out as clean as Jesse Jackson Jr. at the end of the Blagolevich bust. After years of abuse, however, the entire unit is plum tuckered out. In particularly critical condition is the dryer. I have been in denial over the demise of the Unimac for some time. I have kept drying, load after load, ignoring the clunks, groans, roars, and shakes. (I just assumed it was Patches.) A certain employee who shall remain nameless (but Zsa Zsa Gabor would call “Zooter”) has refused to use the Unimac dryer for well over a year. In fact, this refusal to tumble towels in the Unimac has frequently resulted in what the night shift affectionately calls the “Sally Load”. (The “Sally Load” is an evening's worth of laundry crammed into the good dryer at 10:45 PM. If the Holy Boo is on our side, the sopping bale is “top shelf” dry by the time we get a stampede of drunkards when the bars close.) Of course, we're always stuck with the Sally Load while Gee Min* is in the house, which makes it worse. *(Gee Min [not really Asian] is a favorite customer of ours, bless his heart sweetie darling sunshine, who goes through six bushels of towels when he's here. And I would sooner have Punxy dry the towels above the bonfire in the center of The Circle than have poor Gee Min chafe.) I try to put some of the Sally Load in the Unimac, but lately I just can't take the noise. It sounds like a jet plane trying to make a landing. Perpetually. So Sally, you win. I concede what you have known all along: the Unimac dryer is janky. Countless and constant repairs in the past have brought this poor dear back from the brink more times than Britney. Not this time. It is beyond Clark's care and attention. Changing the roller or sticking matchbooks between the washer and the dryer to ''balance'' the unit isn't helping anymore. Even the Maytag Man is hanging up on us. Is there any possibility that this janky sucker can be revived one more time? Not on my watch, Sally.

Obviously, you're sick of hearing how janky “future plans” hook-ups are, so I won't go there. (But they are, people. Really janky.) I'm almost ready to concentrate on what was great about 2008. I have one last janky beef, first. My co-workers and I are a little miffed at Her Royal Highness's recent visit. Look – we love The Queen like Smack Pappy loves to ride the White Horse. We always look forward to her visits. She is now and forever intoxicating, no matter where she chooses to rule. But if you're going to spend the entire weekend for free, skipping in and out tipsy woo-woo at your leisure, with guest in tow, bragging about how your living the life of a wealthy Hausfrau, at least have the decency to tip us a fucking dollar on your way out. Making us hold court all weekend and not leaving us a little cha-ching to show your appreciation is just janky. Ironic, isn't it?

Okay, okay – let me quickly mention a few things that definitely aren't (or at least no longer) janky. The 5th floor shower is now repaired, revamped, and open for your aqueous pleasures. All four shower heads are in good working order. I'd like to thank Clark for finishing the job quickly and correctly once the parts arrived. (He's now re-tiling the 4th floor shower so it won't be janky, either.) And our Club Pittsburgh Holiday Party for employees was anything and everything but janky. It was a wonderful evening of great friends and delicious food. I had very high expectations, and this year's shindig definitely surpassed them. Thanks to Pete and Steve for always treating us like royalty, Bill and Jay for manning the club (again!) so we could celebrate, and Bob for being an incredible host. I can't wait to see what you guys plan next year!

Well, now I need to start scribbling “What Was GREAT About 2008” in my notebook. I'll let you know my personal favorites from this interesting year soon.

Oh: If I've offended any of my co-workers with this post...

Kiss My Janky Ass.

Sunday, November 30, 2008

Touching You Inappropriately

TowelBoy is plum tuckered out from a very busy holiday weekend with “family” in all senses of the word. “Why is this really good news?”, you're wondering. Well – I am perhaps to worn out to babble incessantly about overbearing mothers, out-of-town drunkards, bathhouse calamities, felines with disabilities, and internet hook-ups gone horribly wrong. Have I spent the majority of my Thanksgiving holiday bitching and moaning about those very things? You betcha! But in the spirit of the season I'm going to take inspiration from the pocketful of sunshine we call Patches and see the glass half full (of distilled spirits). This will be brief, people. I just want to ''touch base'', update you on what's going on in my (delusional) world (and Club Pittsburgh, of course), and talk a little about our Big Gay December. Now would be a good time to start that three minute egg...

First, I hope everyone had a really nice Thanksgiving. Mine went reasonably well with both ''families'' – the brood in Wanker County and the bunch at Club Pittsburgh. I always claim political neutrality, but I admittedly approached the holiday with the “No Drama Obama” approach. If The Big O can offer former nemesis HRC the most important post in his cabinet, I can surely split a turkey sandwich with Bubba. I'm pleased to announce that we've reached some sort of d├ętente. I've forgiven all former transgressions and completely moved on. Arm in arm, we've now teamed up against my sister. I stopped in at Club Pittsburgh on my way home from Thanksgiving dinner to do some ''work''. That turned out to be absolutely delightful. I would like to give a shout-out to the cute Hispanic guy that that I stalked until he relented. That was the best steam I had since the Great Sinus Infection of '03. Thanks for letting me think it was your idea. (And a special note to Clark: Please re-direct those steam jets. I was stunned to wake up Friday morning with a hairless ass.) It was a great way to relax before a really hectic weekend. Friday was our busiest evening shift ever. (And poor Sally had the sniffles and couldn't get her drink on!) We were packed Friday, filled to the rafters on Saturday, and still out of rooms when I slithered out on Sunday morning. And to all of you from out of town who 1)can't find the building, 2)don't know where to park, 3)have no idea how much it costs, 4)mentioned at least 500 times that you were from out of town, 5)seem to have misplaced your key – TWICE, 4)accidentally threw grandpappy's heirloom watch in the trash can next to the sling, 5)had such a good time in the ''big city'' you can't wait to come back over Christmas: I'll leave the light on.

The staff's favorite weekend moment is when a prominent member of The Circle popped in just to give Punxy a holiday hug. Gosh, he needed one. Hakuna Matata, queens.

I talked a little in the last post about some changes in specials and promotions. First, what's out: half-price Tuesdays, “Funch” lockers in the afternoons, and and dancer Wednesdays. What stays: Naked Lunch (obviously), Sunday leather discounts, and cheap locker Mondays. Oh – don't worry Campus Ladies – we've got your backs. You'll still get a $10 locker with valid student ID (emphasis on VALID) always. And now, what's new:

MIDNIGHT SNACK: On weeknights, lockers will be discounted to $10 for everyone between 12 AM and 2 AM. This is a full six-hour rental for ten bucks. Discounts, unfortunately, can not be applied to rooms.

HOLIDAY COUPON SPECIAL: This is a little complicated, but in the spirit of Ms. Bonnie Franklin, just hold on tight and will muddle through. Each time you purchase a full priced rental during the month of December, you will be offered a coupon. The attendant will attach a receipt to the coupon (proof of a full priced rental) and initial the back. When you return for a weekday visit, you can present the coupon for $7 off any rental (lockers, single rooms, or double rooms). This is a really good deal. We're talking lockers for ten bucks, and single rooms for less than twenty, and it's a full six hour rental. Obviously, there are some parameters here. These coupons are for weekday rentals only, valid from 12:00 AM on Monday to 11:59 PM on Thursday. (That's clearly printed on the coupon.) This isn't Giant Eagle, folks – there are no ''double coupons''. We'll only be issuing these when a customer purchases a full priced rental – not during promotions such as Naked Lunch, locker discount night, etc. I've given the attendants these specific instructions: Offer the coupon, but don't force anyone to take them. (God forbid your wife/boss/boyfriend/mother/drag mother finds them.) Attach the receipt and initial the coupon when issuing, and only redeem coupons with a receipt and initials. Religiously obey the time restrictions. Now, here is the part you may want to write down or put in your raspberry or your gooseberry or whatever the fuck that is. We must have the coupon present to give the discount. I don't care if you lost your coupon. I'm not particularly moved if the coupon is in your other pants/other car/other purse. It's completely irrelevant if you drove the whole way from The Mistake by the Lake and left the coupon at home. Animal lover or not, you'll get no sympathy from Walter if little Precious the Poodle ate (or urinated on) your coupon. Nor can we “look it up” or “keep it on file”. It's a coupon, not one of those Angelina-Jolie-Third-World babies. I'm confident you can keep track of it.

Pardon me for being a tad cynical. If I offended anyone...well, it was on purpose. As Weezie once said to his therapist, “Girl, of course I drink. You don't know what I've seen!”

There are two other things I'd like to mention before wasting the rest of the night looking for pictures of Lipstick Jungle's Robert Buckley online. (Google him – you won't regret it.) First, we are having another Squirt Party tentatively scheduled for Friday, December 19. I have to get off my lazy ass and contact Ed @ Squirt for more details. I certainly will keep you posted. I have heard raves from guys who got free Squirt memberships at our last event earlier this month. If we get a decent turn-out from Squirt members at this party, a Squirt Night will become a monthly event. Finally, we're hosting an anniversary party for “Party Naked Pittsburgh” on December 13. This appears in our ad and on a schedule that I sent to the mailing list. (If you're not on the mailing list, WHY? Don't you want me directly in your in-box?) I have received a lot of telephone calls asking about Party Naked Pittsburgh. PNP is a local nudist organization that caters to enlightened, open-minded gay men. It's run by a really great group of guys, and they host a lot of fun mixers and events. Unfortunately, I don't have a lot of information beyond that. I'm going to ask some of the folks from PNP to provide some sort of description to the mailing list. I will post that info here, too.

I have spent way too much time being productive, and I'm now returning to blankly staring at my computer screen. I hope to see you at Club Pittsburgh soon.

See! That was unusually brief.

Friday, November 21, 2008

How Was Your Thanksgiving, Patches?

TowelBoy is getting chastised for not mentioning the Squirt party in my prior post. Silly me, I assumed that my life musings were far more valuable then rehashing the tantalizing events of a titillating party. Apparently Bitch assumed wrong. Thank you for all your curiosity about the Squirt event. (And Squirt in general.) As I'm sure you know, we had our first Squirt party at Club Pittsburgh on November 1. Ed, my connection @ Squirt, sent fabulous goodies like key chain lights, posters, banners, and free website memberships. If you don't subscribe to Squirt, you missed a great invitation to the event that Ed and his team put together. I initially thought that the response to the event was mixed. I received fewer invitations from Squirt members than I had expected. Club Pittsburgh members, however, really enjoyed the Squirt goodies and give-aways. I've gotten a lot of positive feedback on the free website memberships the we gave out, and many of you are now cruising Squirt. I was keeping quiet in the hopes that you would share your feedback about the party and the website. Apparently you have. Ed contacted me a few days ago to tell me that the traffic on the Club Pittsburgh cruising listing @ Squirt is incredible. You guys (and new guys!) are raving about the club on their message boards. (Thanks! It appears that notable drag queens are not the only ones that can drum up support on the internet.) Ed would like to have another Squirt event at Club Pittsburgh soon. It's not set in stone, but I'm thinking December 19. Indisputably, the busiest time of year at Club Pittsburgh is the ten days between the winter solstice and New Year's Day. It would be really fun to get things started with a Squirt Party. There's also talk of a monthly Squirt event. I will give you the details soon. In the meantime, keep visiting the club's cruising listing on the Squirt website, and definitely keep up the positive comments.

A monthly Squirt event isn't the only change coming to Club Pittsburgh. As the year comes to an end, we plan to shake things up a little. We're going to replace a lot of our older promotions with what we think are better deals and more exciting events. I should say first that NAKED LUNCH is definitely staying. Mondays through Fridays, lockers will still be only $5 from 11 AM to 2 PM. We have an incredibly loyal Naked Lunch crowd, and I can't imagine that promotion changing anytime soon. We'll also continue to welcome the Burgh Bears and the leather crowd on Sunday nights. Tuesday's half-price special, as well as bi-monthly dancers, are going least for now. My boss is replacing these events with a whole list of new deals and specials. Of course, I'm not smart enough to have that list in front of me. I do know that when you visit and purchase a regularly-priced rental, you'll receive a coupon to get $7 off your next weekday visit (Monday through Thursday). That discount applies to both lockers and rooms. There's also a new promotion called MIDNIGHT SNACK, and we'll be offering late-night discounts during weeknights. I'll have more information for you when I actually remember to bring home the list. And don't forget that the holiday season is a very busy time at the club, and there's always something fun going on.

Disclaimer: I am going to regret saying this. Keep in mind, people, that I'm not Moses. Nothing is written on a stone tablet. Business at the club is generally unpredictable. However, it has been my experience in the past that the holiday crowd at Club Pittsburgh is a lot more diverse and skews a little younger. This trend starts around Thanksgiving and goes through the new year. I see a lot of new faces, as well as a lot of hot guys I only see on holidays. There are a couple of reasons for this. Pittsburgh is an old ''family'' city. A lot of people that no longer live here (or never lived here) have roots here. Parents, grandparents, siblings, cousins, aunts, & uncles. A lot of folks come to Pittsburgh once a year to connect with family, and they've made it a part of their traditions to visit us. I can immediately name a dozen guys who come to pay a holiday visit to Pittsburgh from places like Miami, Chicago, Dallas, and Los Angeles. We always welcome the fresh faces and the new perspectives at the club. I suspect that they make a lot of new friendships while visiting Club Pittsburgh, too. Pittsburgh is a great college town, and we get a lot of students from Pittsburgh's schools year-round. During the holidays, however, we get students studying across the country that come home to Pittsburgh. Because they're only here for a limited time, they don't have a huge network of gay friends, acquaintences, and tricks – so they hang out at the club. I am not guaranteeing you that you will meet some hot young law student from Pepperdine visiting Grandma on the down-low; I'm just saying it's usually an active time.

Speaking of the holidays, I've decided to wave a white flag in Bubba's face. (See the previous post.) I have finally decided ''what my problem is”: my life is far too awesome and far too short to be a bitter pill. I would be insane to let anger and animosity ruin my holiday. Frankly, Bubba can bite me. We each seem to be happiest when we're pissed off at the other. But I have an incredible niece, a grandfather that means more to me than I could ever describe, an aunt and uncle that I miss dearly, a sister that could really use a brother and a friend, and a brother-in-law that is kind of hot in a creepy “Deliverance” sort of way. And I've decided that it's just not a holiday without my crazy brood. (Besides, I need to score Patches some turkey.) So Bubba be damned, I will show up in Wanker County on Thanksgiving with a cheesecake and a smile. I encourage everyone to use the holiday to set aside pride or anger and reach out to your friends, family, co-workers, and neighbors. It's all about karma, people. Be nice and watch football with your nutbag Uncle Stewie all afternoon, and life just may reward you with a romantic (or filthy, naughty, sexy) rendezvous all night.

After you get stuffed at Aunt Wilma's holiday buffet, why not come and get stuffed at Club Pittsburgh? And don't forget to ask Patches how he enjoyed his Thanksgiving. (Just make sure the lanky geek in the do-rag is standing in earshot when you do it.)

Happy Thanksgiving.

About Me

I'm 24, 6'1", 185#, muscular/toned, smooth, shoulder length blonde hair, green eyes. Teenage girls at the mall frequently mistake me for Justin Timberlake. Dude, absolutely none of that is true. Not even on the internet. Imagine Ally McBeal with a modest endowment and a do-rag.