This is a story about Led Zeppelin, insomnia, Arizona theater faggotry, and my ex-girlfriend's big ass titties, which you can see for FREE right now. Interested? Then read on ...
It's a little past midnight right now. I got off work at around ten-thirty and drove my half hour drive home, which I don't mind on a nice summer night with a slight chill and all the world quiet and/or wasted. I was listening to some Zeppelin, which I am again under the impression, as I was in eight grade, that Led Zeppelin is the greatest band in the WORLD (next to white rap group Grand Buffet) and their music seems to be MADE for lonely summer nights.
I got home and started working on my self-performance review. I finished it in 45 minutes with only minimal internet distractions. But I couldn't fall asleep. I don't know why. Lord knows I should seeing as how I have a seven a.m. store meeting but I just can't sleep.
So I went to Feast of Fools films, the web site that my director friend with the big fat man chops started as a home for his feature film. Kinda. Mr. Michael and I did a lot of theater back in my sweaty Arizona days, back when I was a theater fag. I was a hu-u-u-u-u-uge theater fag. That's my own little secret. I outgrew theater faggotry somewhere around 23 years of age. I love acting. I do. I just hate actors.
Mr. Michael and I, we were friends. We still are, too, years later, thanks to him moving to San Francisco when I moved to Sacramento. Luck of the Gods, I tells ya. We really got to know each other well. In fact, when he wrote himself a script for a feature film in what I believe was somewhere around 2000, he wrote a little part for yours truly. He did that for me, and still does. Around 1999 I gave my services to Mr. Michael, telling him that if he ever needed a Dick Miller or a Tor Johnson (a longtime collaborator), that he knew when to call. And he still does.
With a crate full of positivity, he began shooting the film sometime aroun the Y2K fiasco. He worked on it for about two to three years, eventually finishing it but never finding any sort of distributor. Eventually he said fuck it to Hollywood, re-did it, and started releasing it as an internet movie in little chapters. What's it called? Oh yeah, a "web serial." Wow, white people think up some clever words. Web serial. He has yet to finish the cereal, but a fraction of it is there and what's there is damn impressive.
But we didn't know all this back then. We thought we were working on a grand film. Michael cast the movie using my THEN fiance Debby as the lead female heavy. She had worked with him before, playing Marla in the world stage premiere of "Fight Club" where Michael had sex with her and made her show her titties. He followed that up with this film, where he AGAIN had sex with her and made her show her titties. I would joke that five, ten years into the future that fat internet guys will watch the film we were working on and refer to it as Mr. Michael's "I want to fuck Steve's woman" period.
All these things I completely forgot as I surfed my way to the web site with the intentions to watch MY scenes and instead was greeted with my ex-fiance nude faking sex on camera. And right before my scene, too.
WANNA WATCH IT? IT'S RIGHT HERE ...
THE NAKED WOMAN YOU SEE IN THE BEGINNING ... I USED TO FUCKED HER.
It's very jarring, being able to see your ex-girlfriend having simulated sex any time you want on the internet.
However, being able to tell everyone in the world that THEY can watch my ex-girlfriend have simulated sex any time THEY want on the internet makes me feel a WHOLE lot better.
Share the love!