"This F*king Town": This f*king gay-free Hollywood. But I included some celebs that I hooked up with...I mean met.

 

Whilc looking at Tony Cavalero's work on the IMDB,  I found This Fucking Town, a TV short about "actors looking for love and work in L.A."   When I lived in West Hollywood, about half my friends were "actors looking for love and work" so I tried to check it out.  But it didn't seem to exist.  Tubi and Roku advertised it, but "content isn't available."  A rave revew made it sound like an entire web series, not just a short, but the links provided led to "content unavailable."

Finally I found it as a movie on Amazon Prime, and rented it out of sheer frustration. 

It starts out ok, with Mark (Michael Mark Friedman) flexing and Jeremy (Gregory Hoyt, left) dancing in his underwear, displaying a sizeable bulge. They meet up.  

Heading to a party, Jeremy is worried meeting someone new: they always dump him the moment they discover that he has a huge penis.  Really?  

At the party, Jeremy runs into his ex, Caitlin, who thinks all actors are pathetic losers.  She took a witchcraft class and put a spell on him, to ensure that he will never find work (conicidentally, Tony Cavalero's wife Annie is a magic practitioner).  

Jeremy sneers that her new guy, Brett (Tony Cavalero), is an actor, too, but Caitlin counters that he's a personal trainer.  "So you hold people's feet while they do sit-ups!".  Brett stomps off.

That's all for Tony: one word.  

Then the movie turns into a soap opera about heterosexual relationships, with six lengthy kissing scenes amid discussions of auditions and roles.  No more beefcake, and no LGBT people exist. Ugh!

Believe me, life in West Hollywood was a lot more fun than this short/ web series/ movie suggests. Gay men definitely existed.  And celebrities.  Ten days after I arrived, I was having lunch with Michael J. Fox.

More after the break. Caution: Explicit.

Hung Harvey: I hook up with the boyfriend of Sabrina the Teenage Witch

I was back in West Hollywood for my friend Larry's annual Oscar party.  On March 25th, the night before, Lane and Randall the Muscle Bear with the Pierced Penis took me out to all our old haunts: Bodhi Tree, Different Light, the French Quarter, the Gold Coast, and the Faultline.

But we never made it to the Faultline.

I was struck by a twink sitting at the bar in the Gold Coast. A little shorter than me, broad shoulders, very handsome round face with sandy hair and glasses, kind of a Harry Potter look except for the lumberjack shirt.

I sat next to him.  He said "Howdy, pardner," and held out his hand to be shaken.

I made a quip about Hogwarts.  He countered with a quip about Lemony Snicket's Unfortunate Events.

Our legs pressed together under the bar.  "Can I buy you another beer?" I asked.

"Heck, I'll buy you a beer.  I'll buy everybody a beer.  Drinks are on me!"

"Well, I don't really drink."

"A virgin margarita, then.  You have to let me buy you something.  I can afford it.  I'm Harvey, and I'm always going to be Harvey, no matter what they say!"

Was that name supposed to mean something?  All I could think of was Harvey the Giant Rabbit in the James Stuart movie. 

 "Ok, Harvey, a Coke will be fine."

He seemed a little soused, but not unbearably so.  I reached out, unbuttoned a couple of buttons of his lumberjack shirt, and slid my hand down to feel his firm, hairy chest.  Few twinks have that much hair -- I was hooked!

I reached down and groped him.

Nice bulge.  Maybe an 8-incher beneath the belt.  I was even more hooked!

"Hey!" Harvey exclaimed.  "This place is dead!  Let's go to the Rage!"

The notoriously noisy twink bar? But I was over 23

"Well, I'm here with my friends.  We were going to the Faultline.  We're a little old for the Rage."

"Nonsense.  You're with me.  Harvey can open every door."

The Rage was only a few blocks from our old apartment.  Maybe it would be fun.

It wasn't.  The music was blaring, the air was thick with cigarette smoke and poppers, and there were swarming munchkins everywhere.  It was uncomfortable for everyone, especially the bears I dragged along.

They sat at one of the little round tables, Lane with a soda and Randall with a beer, while Harvey and I danced.  Or did whatever swaying movements we could with the press of gyrating twinks.

Suddenly I felt a hand on my shoulder.  It was Randall.

"Hey, either seal the deal and let's go home and screw," he yelled, trying to make himself understood over the roar, "Or drop this twink and let's go home and screw!"

"Ok, ok."  I took Harvey by the hand and led him to a dark area where couples went to kiss.

"What do you want to do now?" he asked, grinning.

"What do you think?"  I put my arms around him, and we started kissing.  He allowed only a brief kiss-- not very impressive.  I reached down and groped him again.  His Kielbasa became aroused, but he didn't t grope me in return.

A bit cool, but I was too into him to notice.  "Let's go back to my place.  I'm staying in my friends' guest room."

More after the break. Caution: Explicit