My name is TowelBoy, and I'm a ba-donk-aholic.
That one simple fact ruined my reign as the Queen of the American Stage. After seven years of intense conservatory training, I realized the temptation of cute theater boys with some junk in the trunk was just too much for me to handle. I became painfully aware that the mundane realities of the business did not appeal to me. I am not particularly fond of producers, directors, choreographers, actors, and designers who want my soul for pocket change and a nice “Actor's Theatre of Blah Blah” coffee mug. I don't consider Sally's missing handkerchief in Act II a valid reason to call the UN Security Council. And if I'm going to sit at a computer for six hours, why would I want to waste time distributing rehearsal notes or scheduling Retard Ronny's costume fitting when I could be cruising for booty?
Why did I do this for seven years? And why do I get sucked back in just after I swear that I've managed my last pageant? That's simple: artsy boys with ba-donka-donk.
Every time I manage a show (or as my co-workers call it, a pageant), I find one actor, designer, props boy, or technician that is, beyond reasonable doubt, my soul mate. While production is in progress, I'm madly in love with him. He becomes the focus of all my energies. I can't live without him. I love his smile, I'm entranced by his eyes, and I can't take mine off of his booty-licious back end. He's my handsome groom, and I'm a bride more beautiful than Portia De Rossi in a field of daisies. Six months after the show closes? I can't remember his name. Then of course, the cycle starts all over again. Rinse and repeat.
The last show I did proved that time away changes nothing. This time, I was confronted with two weaknesses on a collision course from hell: cute artsy-types with junk in the trunk and performing arts majors at Point Park University. The show's director happened to be a faculty member at PPU, and she built the entire cast from her pool of students. At the first rehearsal, I was convinced that I was trapped in some Maximum-Impact-induced wet dream. Each actor that walked through the door was sexier than the one prior. I thought perhaps the producer was staging some sort of joke, or I was being secretly taped by some Logo reality show. As each actor introduced himself, the name changed, but the story was the same: “My name is Paul, and I'm a dance major at Point Park.” And then, “I'm Jeremy, and I'm in the BFA acting program at Point Park.” And on & on, until “My name is Rick, and I'm a Point Park senior majoring in acting, music, and dance.” (Any true queen out there knows this is called a TRIPLE THREAT. Or in my case, the Axis of Arousal.) I immediately started an intense deep-breathing technique and crossed my legs to stop my increasing bulge from becoming an erectile billboard. I kept reminding myself of the countless pageant pin-ups from productions past that are now just a scratch on my hard drive.
But as we actually start rehearsing, I make a life-altering observation as Rick is prancing about the rehearsal hall: this boy has the most incredible ass I have ever seen.
I'm immediately convinced that Rick's ass has supernatural powers. It can find an exit strategy from Iraq and bring an end to world hunger. This ass is a magic lamp – one rub and all my problems would be solved. Every time he walks past the production table, I hear angels playing a sweet melody on harpsicords. (ba-donka-donk; ba-donka-donk; ba-donka-donk...) Granted, it takes me awhile to get to his butt. He has a beautiful face and a nice body. He's always smiling, and his eyes are always undressing the room. He has a lean, toned body befitting of a dancer from Point Park University. He shoots me that toothy smile, and I melt. Then he turns around, and something incredible happens: his shirt gets hung up on the waist of his pants because it can't clear the bubble of his butt. As days turned into weeks, I watched t-shirts, wife beaters, sweat shirts and cardigans get stuck on his butt. Abercrobie and Fitch does not make a top that can cascade over those cakes. I begin to picture Rick dancing in the middle of urban decay for some J-Lo video. When they both have their backs to the cameras you can't tell them apart. They're surrounded by thug-boys with knives about to attack...until they get hypnotized by that heavenly bottom. Forget junk in the trunk; it's a U-Haul through the ghetto. And that's why I named him Ghetto Booty.
The producers of the pageant should thank Judy Garland in the Sky for sending them the Ghetto Booty, or TowelBoy would have been out of those rehearsals faster than Clay Aiken at a wet t-shirt contest. First, I missed Club Pittsburgh. I longed for Patches' prescription woes, Scooter choking on baby batter in the 4th floor shower, and Schwami's lectures on the effects of BoyAgra and portion control. I was no longer the queen of the stage – I was the bitch of the baths. Second, working with these actors from an acting conservatory was driving me insane! My experience in grad school taught me the conservatory mantra: you are more important than everyone else. There is no sense of company; it's not an ensemble effort. This particular group of actors was filled with warmed-hearted guys with lots of talent. Unfortunately, they were pretty clueless about the contributions that other theater artists make to bring the show to the stage. (Here's your costume, your pistol for Act II freshly repaired, and your detailed schedule for next week. Perhaps I can wash your car while I'm at it.) The director, who was their teacher and mentor, didn't exactly help matters. Through this thankless experience, I discovered that I only enjoy being someone's bitch when it ends in copious amounts of semen.
And at one point, Rick was almost an hour late for the third consecutive time, and I wanted to strangle him. I was more pissed off than that time Chuckles drank too much Pink Pucker Punch and pissed all over the carpeting in the video lounge. But I digress. Just as I was about to choke him, though, I caught a glimpse of that beautiful smile and that ghetto booty. The sweet melody of “ba-donka-donk” washed away any terroristic thoughts. I was in my happy place. And for the rest of the production, I just sat back and enjoyed the view.
I never did get the chance to put my junk in that trunk, but I'm just about due for another call from the theater.
Rick's butt may be nice, but Jeremy Hall's ass is a national treasure. He was, in my opinion, the sexiest performer we've ever had at Club Pittsburgh. The entire package is simply incredible: nice eyes and a beautiful smile, a lean/in shape/attractive body, a 9'' piece between his legs, and a cute little ass that would make Sir Mix-A-Lot weep. (He has a very nice butt indeed, but Jeremy only plays on top. Ahhh, sweet irony. I tried to find Alanis on AIM, but I'm afraid she's put me on IGNORE.) I kept staring at his commendable shoulder-to-waist ratio; Jeremy has these broad manly shoulders, and his trunk angles down to a waist a third of the size. And of course, the ba-donka-donk sits perfectly at the bottom of the triangle. If you missed seeing this man perform live, you're one crazy queen. (Fortunately, I don't think many of you missed out – we were bombarded with Club Pittsburgh revelers and Jeremy's admirers. Thanks to all of you for one of the busiest, hottest nights I've seen in ages.) I keep finding excuses to email Jeremy, and by golly, I WILL get him to return.
Some odds & ends. Club Pittsburgh has tickets for all five upcoming Pride events: Splash, Pride in the Street, PrideFest Beer Garden, the Bar Crawl, and the July River Cruise. Those tickets will be available at the front desk on Monday, May 26. Don't forget that our rates and product prices will adjust on Tuesday, June 3. Most of the increases are between 10% to 15%; a surprising number of prices will stay exactly the same. It's worth 10% more to keep getting some of the best booty in Pittsburgh, right? We last raised rates on January 1, 2004. Gas prices have doubled since then. And Exxon-Mobile may fill your tank, but you won't get any junk in the trunk. You can check out the new rates on the BREAKING NEWS section of the website. And if you join our online community, I'll send them directly to you. We're about to hit a milestone in enrollment, and I'd love for you to be a part of it. I'm starting to sound like Tammy Faye Baker here, (One more payment due, partners!!), but membership definitely has it's privilages. Go to the COMMUNITY section of the website to get on the mailing list.
Check out Jeremy Hall:
ClubJeremyHall.com
Check out all of this summer's great pride events:
www.PittsburghPrideSpace.com
Check out Alanis Morissette's new video, “Underneath”:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AIy5Cv0un9U
Checking Out,
TowelBoy
Saturday, May 24, 2008
Thursday, May 15, 2008
Royal Stimulus
TowelBoy is suffering another insufferable bout of schizophrenia. I’m changing thoughts faster than Angelina Jolie changes Third World babies. This has been a busy week at Club Pittsburgh. The computer with all the membership information went completely ape-shit, we’re working on adjusting our prices and adding a new special, our Queen is perhaps running from the law, and everyone is agog over a weekend visit from porn star Jeremy Hall. Our back office bulletin board is full of clippings from queens in the news. Oh – and some bitter queen called the health department and we had to take the piss tub off of the roof. And in the midst of all of this, my involuntary bout of chastity gave way to summer conjugal madness.
A few weeks ago, I blogged about some silly questions and inquiries that we get from confused out-of-towners and heterosexually-challenged drunkards. I gave you my professional answer along with my bitchiest retort. Well, the one I forgot: “I lost my membership card.” 4 out of 5 dentists recommend Crest, and 4 out of 5 homosexuals can not keep track of a membership card. And some are blatant in declaring that they’ve thrown the card away, which quite frankly gives me hemorrhoids. Thanks be to Madonna that these people don’t have small children! (Frankly, I don’t think Madonna should have small children either. Who’s going to feed the chickens?) I have a regular customer (one of many) who never remembers his membership card, forcing this bitter bitch to search through Excel like I give a damn. I went into the bank about six months ago, and said customer was waiting in line (incognito with Jackie O sunglasses) in front of me. And of course, he doesn’t have a fucking deposit slip and the poor teller had to look up the account. And I’m thinking “You’re a mess, Mary”, but I digress. Seven years at the front window has taught me that you just can’t trust a homosexual with a little gold card. He’s gonna lose it, he’s gonna forget it, or his wife is gonna take it. Fortunately, one of our more “colorful” employees created a membership spreadsheet so we can reference memberships on our administration computer. (Shortly after, unfortunately, the poor dear partied a little too hearty with his peppy pal Tina and got his ass fired. But we appreciate the spreadsheet, Peanut!) TowelBoy is fanatic about keeping the spreadsheet current, but not so motivated about backing it up. That’s why I nearly lost my bowels when I got to Club Pittsburgh this morning and discovered that the administration computer (and my spreadsheet with 6000 members) has retired to Microsoft Pines. That is not a good way to start the morning. Four stores, three construction detours, two trips to the Best Buy restroom in an attempt to lure a handsome employee, and a charge on the corporate Amex card later, I had a new computer in the front seat of Millie Malibu. I’m still waiting on our tech guy to transfer the data from the old computer to the new one. And of course, as I’m disconnecting the old girl from her ethernet cables, the first customer to come to the window says…”I lost my card.”
Part of the information waiting to transfer hard drives is the suggestions for new prices. As I mentioned in a previous post, changing economic circumstances have forced us to adjust our prices. There is some good news in all of this. First, the increases are minimal; across the board, everything from memberships to butt plugs will increase about 10-15%. I don’t think that anyone will be shocked. And as a “thank you” for your continuing support, we’re adding another locker special. Our PR guy came up with a brilliant idea for something called FUNCH. He’s a man of the word, and claims that the term is easily-recognized code in more crime-conscious neighborhoods for “fucking after lunch”. Translation: We’re going to discount lockers to $10 from 2 PM to 6 PM on weekdays. I will post information about the price changes, as well as more information about FUNCH, in the Breaking News section of our website next week. Members of our online community will get an email. (Hint, Hint) I do know that the FUNCH special runs Monday through Friday and will begin on Monday June 2. The price increase goes into effect on Tuesday, June 3 @ 7 AM.
If you ever find yourself in the ghettos of Detroit looking for a mid-afternoon anal delight, tell them Tony sent you.
If you been to Club Pittsburgh over the past few weekends, you’ve noticed that Esta La Mierda, Miss Club Pittsburgh herself, has made a triumphant return from the swamps of Florida. One surprise visit is obviously a gal who’s homesick. Two surprise visits is a fugitive queen who’s obviously hiding from the authorities. We do love our Queen, but the evidence is compounding. First, there are no immigrant sidekicks or a Sugar Daddy Hubby in sight. She claims the husband is “working”, but we think he’s just working on a plan to get the Queen to “the islands” as quickly as possible. Then the Queen goes out and buys a new car with nondescript tags and no flashy drag items stacked in the back seat. And finally, rumors abound that the Queen is sporting a new weave. I’m sorry, but NEW WEAVE = INCOGNITO FUGITIVE. We’re your friends Queen, and we want to help. Is it the IRS, or perhaps the INS? (Nobody ever believed those immigrants were your cousins from Poughkeepsi.) You shouldn’t piss with the feds. (Just ask disgraced councilwoman Twanda Carlisle!) What are you hiding, Queen?
If your enquiring mind would like to know, Esta La Mierda will be here to help us welcome porn star Jeremy Hall on Saturday. I’m very pleased that she’s making another weekend trip to Pittsburgh to help us with this huge event. Nobody gives our performers the Royal Treatment like the Queen. Pittsburgh may not remember Jeremy Hall, but if Esta is here, Jeremy Hall will definitely remember Pittsburgh. This is the perfect opportunity for you to catch up with Esta and her entourage. Please come down and socialize, chit-chat, and contribute generously to her legal defense fund. We’ve got your back, Queen. (Please note the photograph of the Queen at the top of this post. I chose a picture of her in her natural position to jog your memory.)
TowelBoy is obviously very excited about Jeremy Hall’s Pittsburgh excursion. He looks just like that cute Eric McCormick from “Will & Grace”, only less gay. I have been salivating over his photos for nearly a month. (Unfortunately, I vividly remember “New Coke”, and perhaps I’m a little geriatric for Club Jeremy Hall. But I can still watch.) Jeremy is performing just before midnight on Saturday night. I’ve seen the clip on his website, and he gives a hot performance. I expect that he’s going to make a lot of new fans. You keep asking when we’re busy. When will the cute guys be here? Do I recommend a good time to visit? Well – I’ve got a secret, and I’m about to squeal like Paula Abdul after she gets to the bottom of that red cup. George W. Bush, that wackadoodle, is putting mad sums of money in your checking. And how does the trendy gay man define economic stimulus? Hmmm. Thanks to the stimulus from the IRS, we’ve been busier than we are during our crazy holiday rush. Just about every employee has commented (okay, whined and complained) about the huge bump in business. (I don’t think the sling room and a bottle of Jungle Juice is what W meant by “stimulus”, but to each his own.) Based on my experience since the stimulus payments started two weeks ago, I decided to go to Giant Eagle last night and buy two boxes of Grape Nuts and a tube of Anusol. It’s gonna be a long weekend. Perhaps you should stimulate yourself with Mr. Jeremy Hall, too. If you’d like a preview, check out his website:
ClubJeremyHall.com
What else? Oh – Miss Mary La La called the health department, and we had to remove the piss tub from the roof. (May I suggest to Miss La La that a nice piss party might improve her attitude.) It was our intention to keep the tub on the roof the entire season. Unfortunately, it’s now in the basement, working overtime as a make-shift storage space for butt plugs and douche balls. There’s no longer a watersports bathtub, yet poor Towelboy is pissed. (Alanis, are you home?) That was the sad news, but there has been some exciting news, too. Patches keeps his co-workers informed by keeping an eye out for “Queens in the News”. We have a bulletin board in the office with newspaper clippings and printouts from local (sometimes national) news websites filled with tidbits about some of our most colorful compatriots. Fun articles about divorces, DUI’s , and the occasion queen who tries to rob a bank in a Britney Spears weave and a mini-skirt. Two articles of interest popped up in this week’s Post-Gazette. First, one of our more infamous rebel-rousers has been sent to the klink for ten years for inappropriate internet behavior. (But he has found Jesus, so the situation does have a benefit.) Because TowelBoy is all about forgiveness, I’m removing him from the Do Not Admit list. Another favorite of ours was in the business section of the paper yesterday recommending that you rip Granny’s gold teeth out of her mouth before you bury her. Thirty years of gold caps and fillings can apparently bail Junior out of a mortgage crisis. She may have to gum her way through the afterlife, but you can trade that dental bling for a vacation to Aruba or a nice Chrysler Sebring. Don’t feel guilty about stealing those bedazzled choppers – there are no pork chops in the afterlife anyway.
I’m sure I’m forgetting something, but my hormones are through the roof and my logical mind is out of town. In the past hour, I’ve gotten three text messages from some sexually-confused yet sexually-aggressive Pitt junior with an avid interest in pharmacology. He’s got a cute furry ass, and he knows the appropriate dosage for Zithromax. He’s part of the Future Prescription Fillers of America. And he’s apparently insatiable. For the love of Patches, I feel the need to entertain this boy. Stop in this weekend and I’ll give you an update.
Kisses,
TowelBoy
A few weeks ago, I blogged about some silly questions and inquiries that we get from confused out-of-towners and heterosexually-challenged drunkards. I gave you my professional answer along with my bitchiest retort. Well, the one I forgot: “I lost my membership card.” 4 out of 5 dentists recommend Crest, and 4 out of 5 homosexuals can not keep track of a membership card. And some are blatant in declaring that they’ve thrown the card away, which quite frankly gives me hemorrhoids. Thanks be to Madonna that these people don’t have small children! (Frankly, I don’t think Madonna should have small children either. Who’s going to feed the chickens?) I have a regular customer (one of many) who never remembers his membership card, forcing this bitter bitch to search through Excel like I give a damn. I went into the bank about six months ago, and said customer was waiting in line (incognito with Jackie O sunglasses) in front of me. And of course, he doesn’t have a fucking deposit slip and the poor teller had to look up the account. And I’m thinking “You’re a mess, Mary”, but I digress. Seven years at the front window has taught me that you just can’t trust a homosexual with a little gold card. He’s gonna lose it, he’s gonna forget it, or his wife is gonna take it. Fortunately, one of our more “colorful” employees created a membership spreadsheet so we can reference memberships on our administration computer. (Shortly after, unfortunately, the poor dear partied a little too hearty with his peppy pal Tina and got his ass fired. But we appreciate the spreadsheet, Peanut!) TowelBoy is fanatic about keeping the spreadsheet current, but not so motivated about backing it up. That’s why I nearly lost my bowels when I got to Club Pittsburgh this morning and discovered that the administration computer (and my spreadsheet with 6000 members) has retired to Microsoft Pines. That is not a good way to start the morning. Four stores, three construction detours, two trips to the Best Buy restroom in an attempt to lure a handsome employee, and a charge on the corporate Amex card later, I had a new computer in the front seat of Millie Malibu. I’m still waiting on our tech guy to transfer the data from the old computer to the new one. And of course, as I’m disconnecting the old girl from her ethernet cables, the first customer to come to the window says…”I lost my card.”
Part of the information waiting to transfer hard drives is the suggestions for new prices. As I mentioned in a previous post, changing economic circumstances have forced us to adjust our prices. There is some good news in all of this. First, the increases are minimal; across the board, everything from memberships to butt plugs will increase about 10-15%. I don’t think that anyone will be shocked. And as a “thank you” for your continuing support, we’re adding another locker special. Our PR guy came up with a brilliant idea for something called FUNCH. He’s a man of the word, and claims that the term is easily-recognized code in more crime-conscious neighborhoods for “fucking after lunch”. Translation: We’re going to discount lockers to $10 from 2 PM to 6 PM on weekdays. I will post information about the price changes, as well as more information about FUNCH, in the Breaking News section of our website next week. Members of our online community will get an email. (Hint, Hint) I do know that the FUNCH special runs Monday through Friday and will begin on Monday June 2. The price increase goes into effect on Tuesday, June 3 @ 7 AM.
If you ever find yourself in the ghettos of Detroit looking for a mid-afternoon anal delight, tell them Tony sent you.
If you been to Club Pittsburgh over the past few weekends, you’ve noticed that Esta La Mierda, Miss Club Pittsburgh herself, has made a triumphant return from the swamps of Florida. One surprise visit is obviously a gal who’s homesick. Two surprise visits is a fugitive queen who’s obviously hiding from the authorities. We do love our Queen, but the evidence is compounding. First, there are no immigrant sidekicks or a Sugar Daddy Hubby in sight. She claims the husband is “working”, but we think he’s just working on a plan to get the Queen to “the islands” as quickly as possible. Then the Queen goes out and buys a new car with nondescript tags and no flashy drag items stacked in the back seat. And finally, rumors abound that the Queen is sporting a new weave. I’m sorry, but NEW WEAVE = INCOGNITO FUGITIVE. We’re your friends Queen, and we want to help. Is it the IRS, or perhaps the INS? (Nobody ever believed those immigrants were your cousins from Poughkeepsi.) You shouldn’t piss with the feds. (Just ask disgraced councilwoman Twanda Carlisle!) What are you hiding, Queen?
If your enquiring mind would like to know, Esta La Mierda will be here to help us welcome porn star Jeremy Hall on Saturday. I’m very pleased that she’s making another weekend trip to Pittsburgh to help us with this huge event. Nobody gives our performers the Royal Treatment like the Queen. Pittsburgh may not remember Jeremy Hall, but if Esta is here, Jeremy Hall will definitely remember Pittsburgh. This is the perfect opportunity for you to catch up with Esta and her entourage. Please come down and socialize, chit-chat, and contribute generously to her legal defense fund. We’ve got your back, Queen. (Please note the photograph of the Queen at the top of this post. I chose a picture of her in her natural position to jog your memory.)
TowelBoy is obviously very excited about Jeremy Hall’s Pittsburgh excursion. He looks just like that cute Eric McCormick from “Will & Grace”, only less gay. I have been salivating over his photos for nearly a month. (Unfortunately, I vividly remember “New Coke”, and perhaps I’m a little geriatric for Club Jeremy Hall. But I can still watch.) Jeremy is performing just before midnight on Saturday night. I’ve seen the clip on his website, and he gives a hot performance. I expect that he’s going to make a lot of new fans. You keep asking when we’re busy. When will the cute guys be here? Do I recommend a good time to visit? Well – I’ve got a secret, and I’m about to squeal like Paula Abdul after she gets to the bottom of that red cup. George W. Bush, that wackadoodle, is putting mad sums of money in your checking. And how does the trendy gay man define economic stimulus? Hmmm. Thanks to the stimulus from the IRS, we’ve been busier than we are during our crazy holiday rush. Just about every employee has commented (okay, whined and complained) about the huge bump in business. (I don’t think the sling room and a bottle of Jungle Juice is what W meant by “stimulus”, but to each his own.) Based on my experience since the stimulus payments started two weeks ago, I decided to go to Giant Eagle last night and buy two boxes of Grape Nuts and a tube of Anusol. It’s gonna be a long weekend. Perhaps you should stimulate yourself with Mr. Jeremy Hall, too. If you’d like a preview, check out his website:
ClubJeremyHall.com
What else? Oh – Miss Mary La La called the health department, and we had to remove the piss tub from the roof. (May I suggest to Miss La La that a nice piss party might improve her attitude.) It was our intention to keep the tub on the roof the entire season. Unfortunately, it’s now in the basement, working overtime as a make-shift storage space for butt plugs and douche balls. There’s no longer a watersports bathtub, yet poor Towelboy is pissed. (Alanis, are you home?) That was the sad news, but there has been some exciting news, too. Patches keeps his co-workers informed by keeping an eye out for “Queens in the News”. We have a bulletin board in the office with newspaper clippings and printouts from local (sometimes national) news websites filled with tidbits about some of our most colorful compatriots. Fun articles about divorces, DUI’s , and the occasion queen who tries to rob a bank in a Britney Spears weave and a mini-skirt. Two articles of interest popped up in this week’s Post-Gazette. First, one of our more infamous rebel-rousers has been sent to the klink for ten years for inappropriate internet behavior. (But he has found Jesus, so the situation does have a benefit.) Because TowelBoy is all about forgiveness, I’m removing him from the Do Not Admit list. Another favorite of ours was in the business section of the paper yesterday recommending that you rip Granny’s gold teeth out of her mouth before you bury her. Thirty years of gold caps and fillings can apparently bail Junior out of a mortgage crisis. She may have to gum her way through the afterlife, but you can trade that dental bling for a vacation to Aruba or a nice Chrysler Sebring. Don’t feel guilty about stealing those bedazzled choppers – there are no pork chops in the afterlife anyway.
I’m sure I’m forgetting something, but my hormones are through the roof and my logical mind is out of town. In the past hour, I’ve gotten three text messages from some sexually-confused yet sexually-aggressive Pitt junior with an avid interest in pharmacology. He’s got a cute furry ass, and he knows the appropriate dosage for Zithromax. He’s part of the Future Prescription Fillers of America. And he’s apparently insatiable. For the love of Patches, I feel the need to entertain this boy. Stop in this weekend and I’ll give you an update.
Kisses,
TowelBoy
Thursday, May 1, 2008
These Hard Times
TowelBoy is anxiously waiting for Dubya to give him some stimulus.
Get your minds out of the gutter. I have no desire for any sort of sexual stimulus (manual, oral, or anal) from the Commander in Chief. (Mary Cheney – call me and we’ll talk. I have a turkey baster with your name on it.) I am talking about my tax rebate. My cat Socks had a blocked urethra that took three days and $1300 to unclog. (If I had a cork in my penis, I sure hope the queens in the community would throw a benefit pageant to get it out.) The people at American Express were there during Socksee’s time of need, and now they really need me to make a payment. (And if I don’t pay, will karma re-plug his penis?) Although I have not entertained a gentleman caller since my pussy got clogged, Duquesne Light, Columbia Gas, Comcast, and the Pittsburgh Water & Sewage Authority have continued to sodomize me without ID Glide. Every utility and service at Camp Carrick has increased in the last six months. Poor TowelBoy may have to turn down his thermostat five more degrees or sell his hoochie pants on E-Bay just to pay these bastards. The price of everything from gasoline to Trojan Magnums keeps nudging toward unaffordable. (I’ve officially changed my internet profile from “prefers to travel” to “prefers company”. Even Ashton Kutcher’s ass isn’t Exxon-Worthy.) Although just about every vegetable, animal, and mineral is currently in season, each trip to Giant Eagle pushes me a little further to the Nicole Richie diet. (Mmm…a glass of sparkling water and a Cool Mint Tic-Tac.) My car is no longer just unfashionable, it’s unaffordable. I have no plans to attend any Circuit Parties this summer; right now, I’m saving to buy a Mr. Coffee from Circuit City.
Why is a single, thirtysomething guy with a comfortable salary and a high FICO score having such a hard time? Call it a recession, a slow-down, or just a fucking mess, we’ve hit some hard economic times. I increasingly appreciate and admire our customers that continue to support us in spite of their own tightening budgets. We acknowledge that these hard times have put a tremendous strain on you, your families, and your friends. However, this economic climate has posed huge challenges for small businesses as well. Club Pittsburgh is no exception.
These challenges are the reason that we will be increasing rates within the next few weeks. The increases will be minimal, and they will affect all areas of our business: memberships, rentals, and counter goods. We are still determining the new prices, and we expect to implement them soon.
The owners and managers of Club Pittsburgh have been resistant to a rate increase for quite awhile. We haven’t raised membership and rental prices in over four years. (The last rate increase took effect January 1, 2004.) And we’ve actually lowered the price of a lot of counter items, particularly the lubes, over the past few years. Changing circumstances in recent months have made a price increase impossible to avoid.
Let me squelch the rumors before they even begin: We have not seen a decline in business. In fact, attendance has steadily increased. We are not experiencing any sort of unusual financial difficulties. All of our financial challenges stem from a changing economy. And we’re absolutely not closing. Please help us squelch any negative rumors you may hear in the bars or the chat rooms. Don’t believe any of these things if you read them on Manhunt or on Craig’s List. Any information that has an impact on our members will appear here first. If you sign up for the online community, I’ll email you breaking news directly. Get accurate information from TowelBoy – Not ShadySideSoccerBoi23 online or Miss Mary LaLa enjoying an afternoon delight at Shenley Park.
Essentially, we have seen our operating cost skyrocket over the past few years. As I mentioned, my utility bills at the house have become nearly unmanageable. All of those increases have occurred at the club on a much larger scale. We use natural gas, electric, and especially water in astronomical volumes. (The first time I saw a Club Pittsburgh water bill, I assumed it was a mistake and they accidentally added zeros. As it turns out, that’s how much we use. Shut the shower off when you're done, Sally.) The club is in need of capital improvements as well. Obviously, as the facilities age, maintenance issues accrue. We’ve all shared the inconvenience of a broken whirlpool or closed steam room. Rehabilitating or replacing this equipment, most of which has been custom-made, is unbelievably expensive. Last month, we had to replace an industrial hot water tank at a cost of a small Chevy sedan. We can no longer find picture-tube televisions for our facilities. As each television breaks, we have to swap out that set with an LCD television at a significantly higher cost. We’re replacing the carpeting in certain areas of the club with a recycled foam material that is water-resistant and significantly more hygienic. It makes a lot more sense for our facility than carpeting, but it’s a lot more expensive, too. Instead of housekeeping taking care of the whirlpool, it is now maintained by a certified pool operator. Obviously, this increases our labor costs. (This is totally worth it. We take your safety very seriously. We’re very proud to have two certified pool operators currently on staff.) All of the cleaning and maintenance products that we purchase seem to rise with each trip to Sam’s Club or Costco. Employee health coverage has doubled in the past year, and the liability insurance for the club itself is more than my salary.
For these reasons, a price increase is unavoidable. We’re grateful for your continued support.
On a lighter note…
The piss party was a hoot. We’d like to thank Bill for donating the fabulous bathtub. The staff was very impressed at the number of guys that jumped in the tub. (In spite of some chilly weather, too!) If you haven’t seen it, you should go to the GALLERY section of the website and check it out. My manager says that the tub is a permanent fixture on the roof – you’ll have all summer to enjoy it. Perhaps you can try it out when porn hottie Jeremy Hall performs on Saturday, May 17…
What am I forgetting? (I may have had a few too many Sominex before bed, and I’ve been feeling tipsy woo-woo most of the day.) Oh – we have tickets available for SPIKE at the front desk. You can check out www.PittsburghPrideSpace.com for more information on the picnic. Also, if you join the Club Pittsburgh online community, I can send you the new rates when they’re determined.
Earning Cash By Spreading Love,
TowelBoy
Get your minds out of the gutter. I have no desire for any sort of sexual stimulus (manual, oral, or anal) from the Commander in Chief. (Mary Cheney – call me and we’ll talk. I have a turkey baster with your name on it.) I am talking about my tax rebate. My cat Socks had a blocked urethra that took three days and $1300 to unclog. (If I had a cork in my penis, I sure hope the queens in the community would throw a benefit pageant to get it out.) The people at American Express were there during Socksee’s time of need, and now they really need me to make a payment. (And if I don’t pay, will karma re-plug his penis?) Although I have not entertained a gentleman caller since my pussy got clogged, Duquesne Light, Columbia Gas, Comcast, and the Pittsburgh Water & Sewage Authority have continued to sodomize me without ID Glide. Every utility and service at Camp Carrick has increased in the last six months. Poor TowelBoy may have to turn down his thermostat five more degrees or sell his hoochie pants on E-Bay just to pay these bastards. The price of everything from gasoline to Trojan Magnums keeps nudging toward unaffordable. (I’ve officially changed my internet profile from “prefers to travel” to “prefers company”. Even Ashton Kutcher’s ass isn’t Exxon-Worthy.) Although just about every vegetable, animal, and mineral is currently in season, each trip to Giant Eagle pushes me a little further to the Nicole Richie diet. (Mmm…a glass of sparkling water and a Cool Mint Tic-Tac.) My car is no longer just unfashionable, it’s unaffordable. I have no plans to attend any Circuit Parties this summer; right now, I’m saving to buy a Mr. Coffee from Circuit City.
Why is a single, thirtysomething guy with a comfortable salary and a high FICO score having such a hard time? Call it a recession, a slow-down, or just a fucking mess, we’ve hit some hard economic times. I increasingly appreciate and admire our customers that continue to support us in spite of their own tightening budgets. We acknowledge that these hard times have put a tremendous strain on you, your families, and your friends. However, this economic climate has posed huge challenges for small businesses as well. Club Pittsburgh is no exception.
These challenges are the reason that we will be increasing rates within the next few weeks. The increases will be minimal, and they will affect all areas of our business: memberships, rentals, and counter goods. We are still determining the new prices, and we expect to implement them soon.
The owners and managers of Club Pittsburgh have been resistant to a rate increase for quite awhile. We haven’t raised membership and rental prices in over four years. (The last rate increase took effect January 1, 2004.) And we’ve actually lowered the price of a lot of counter items, particularly the lubes, over the past few years. Changing circumstances in recent months have made a price increase impossible to avoid.
Let me squelch the rumors before they even begin: We have not seen a decline in business. In fact, attendance has steadily increased. We are not experiencing any sort of unusual financial difficulties. All of our financial challenges stem from a changing economy. And we’re absolutely not closing. Please help us squelch any negative rumors you may hear in the bars or the chat rooms. Don’t believe any of these things if you read them on Manhunt or on Craig’s List. Any information that has an impact on our members will appear here first. If you sign up for the online community, I’ll email you breaking news directly. Get accurate information from TowelBoy – Not ShadySideSoccerBoi23 online or Miss Mary LaLa enjoying an afternoon delight at Shenley Park.
Essentially, we have seen our operating cost skyrocket over the past few years. As I mentioned, my utility bills at the house have become nearly unmanageable. All of those increases have occurred at the club on a much larger scale. We use natural gas, electric, and especially water in astronomical volumes. (The first time I saw a Club Pittsburgh water bill, I assumed it was a mistake and they accidentally added zeros. As it turns out, that’s how much we use. Shut the shower off when you're done, Sally.) The club is in need of capital improvements as well. Obviously, as the facilities age, maintenance issues accrue. We’ve all shared the inconvenience of a broken whirlpool or closed steam room. Rehabilitating or replacing this equipment, most of which has been custom-made, is unbelievably expensive. Last month, we had to replace an industrial hot water tank at a cost of a small Chevy sedan. We can no longer find picture-tube televisions for our facilities. As each television breaks, we have to swap out that set with an LCD television at a significantly higher cost. We’re replacing the carpeting in certain areas of the club with a recycled foam material that is water-resistant and significantly more hygienic. It makes a lot more sense for our facility than carpeting, but it’s a lot more expensive, too. Instead of housekeeping taking care of the whirlpool, it is now maintained by a certified pool operator. Obviously, this increases our labor costs. (This is totally worth it. We take your safety very seriously. We’re very proud to have two certified pool operators currently on staff.) All of the cleaning and maintenance products that we purchase seem to rise with each trip to Sam’s Club or Costco. Employee health coverage has doubled in the past year, and the liability insurance for the club itself is more than my salary.
For these reasons, a price increase is unavoidable. We’re grateful for your continued support.
On a lighter note…
The piss party was a hoot. We’d like to thank Bill for donating the fabulous bathtub. The staff was very impressed at the number of guys that jumped in the tub. (In spite of some chilly weather, too!) If you haven’t seen it, you should go to the GALLERY section of the website and check it out. My manager says that the tub is a permanent fixture on the roof – you’ll have all summer to enjoy it. Perhaps you can try it out when porn hottie Jeremy Hall performs on Saturday, May 17…
What am I forgetting? (I may have had a few too many Sominex before bed, and I’ve been feeling tipsy woo-woo most of the day.) Oh – we have tickets available for SPIKE at the front desk. You can check out www.PittsburghPrideSpace.com for more information on the picnic. Also, if you join the Club Pittsburgh online community, I can send you the new rates when they’re determined.
Earning Cash By Spreading Love,
TowelBoy
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About Me
- TowelBoy
- 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.
