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Monthly Archives: February 2009
An Open Letter to Everyone Who Reads My Blog.
Dear Readers:
Effective immediately, I am no longer referring to the pornographic actresses I work with as “porn whores”.
Honestly, I was never comfortable with that term — even though they are.
Or seem to be.
And I used to refer to them like that — often.
(Brief humorous aside: according to Dictionary.com, a “who’re” is also a contraction of who are: Who’re the people at the next table? (Or, overheard at this year’s AVN Awards Show, “Who’re the whores at the next table?) )
Let’s face it — any use of the word “whore” is misogynistic, and in an effort to be a Truly Nice Guy (and overall Better Person), I’m removing the term “porn whore” from my vocabulary.
My first inclination was to refer to one as a “pornographic priestess”, but that would be ripping off Lennon and McCartney (most likely Lennon and not-so-much McCartney), which is totally bad juju, and even though I’ve never laid claim to The Egg Man, I have often found myself uttering “goo goo gajoob ga goo goo gajoob” — usually after some whacky behavior performed by the aforementioned.
Like it or not, from the onset of this particular blog, I shall refer to pornographic actresses as “Porno Princesses”; the singular shall be “Porno Princess”.
Sincerely yours,
(insert virtual signature here)
William J Watson
Porn Whore
(goo goo goo joob goo goo goo joob goo googoooooooooooojoob)
Untitled.
I’ve been running out of things to say for the last year or so, at least when it comes to my business. Oh, sure…I could spin (yet) another tale of woe, something along the lines of your favorite Pornographic Princess doing something dumb, or silly, or both; broken relationships featuring fair-weather friends, pathological liars, and pill-poppin’ drug-riddled train wrecks; and, of course, all my Homies in the County down in Cell Block 6 (I usually spare the gory blog-o-ramas when it comes to the male talents — cause who really cares about the dudes, right?).
But then I’d start to sound like a broken record, which, I’m afraid, I’ve become.
So, in a last-ditch effort to offer up some original, entertaining BlogStuffs, here’s last night’s dream: I’m in class (again) only this time I’m not the teacher. I’m the student. Usually, I’m the teacher, and I can’t control my class — no matter what consequences I offer up — so I sit there and helplessly watch The Chaos ensue. But this time I’m the student, and Dick Cavett is teaching us something I can’t understand, even though I’m not really sure what his subject is. I can’t understand math, but this wasn’t a math lesson. I don’t know what Dick Cavett was teaching me, but whatever it was, I couldn’t understand.
A Lesson in Life?
And that’s about the time I notice someone stole my fucking Man Purse.
My Murse.
My European Carry-All.
Yea, I have one of those.
Anyways, at first I thought I misplaced it, cause I do that sort of thing all the time, but then I realized someone stole the motherfucker. I walked all over that classroom looking for my Murse while everyone else was working in groups and accomplishing things, and, by the end of our time together (which somehow coincided with my sleep) I was screaming at Mr. Cavett and pleading for my bag and more time to study before his Final Exam.
Which, of course, he denied.
And, like I just told you, his denial was the exact time I woke up.
Maggie was looking at me, and I was looking at her…which meant it was time to start our day.
My Main Most Man — Patton Oswalt.
No Way Am I Gay.
Bil Maher starts his new season tonight, and I’m thinking I’m gonna invite a whore over to dinner, then have her blow me, and I’m gonna get really stoned right before she blows me, and then I’m gonna watch my hero Bill rant and rave about all sorts of shit.
I don’t smoke pot much of late. Really, I don’t. I save it now for special occasions.
BJ’s and Bill are two of those occasions…and really, that’s all.
No, wait.
Wilco.
They have a new concert DVD out called “Ashes of American Flags“.
I can’t wait for April 18!
But before I state my Gayness for Wilco and Jeff Tweedy, let me share with you a conversation I just had with an online friend:
[10:45] dlewxxx: It’s like…I get it…you hate kids and love pot…move on
[10:49] billywatson3: nooooo
[10:49] billywatson3: he talks about all sorts of shit
[10:49] dlewxxx: I know….but he always goes there and I fucking hate redundant people
Bill is my main most man, and from what I hear, he adores Black Girls.
Black Whores, to be exact.
This, of course, is nothing more than Whore Hearsay (a friend of mine who’s a whore says she has whore friends that have entertained the entertainer).
Extra Bonus Points for Bill.
Does all this Whorespeak make me come off a little misogynistic?
I think I’d blow Jeff Tweedy, but no way would I swallow.
Cause No Way I’m Gay.
So if you’re wondering what a pornographer does on his Friday, here ya go: shoot a blow bang and a IR POV (I hold the camera) then contemplate the book of piss pics I’m working on and then haul ass to the gym (218 the other day!!) and listen to French Lesson 3 whilst tread milling and then haul ass to Amoeba to see what’s shown up in the used bin and then haul ass home and have my Special Friend swing by where we shall grub and smoke and then I’ll squeal like a little girl cause Bill Maher will ramble about pot, his hatred for little kids and organized religion and our fucking Ex-President.
And our love for The New One.
I’ll squeal about Bill and not what my Special Friend does to me.
And if I say it once, I’ll say it a million times — No Way.
Travis, The Chimp.
I had a friend in college who had a friend who had a friend who had a spider monkey.
Spider monkeys do not make good pets; this particular one, when pissed, would throw its poo at you. And the walls. And anything else it felt like…until it couldn’t poo anymore.
Then it would scream.
Loudly.
Some animals can’t be pets: turtle may seem harmless enough, but did you know that they actually carry salmonella? Boas (any poisonous snake, really) and scorpions are no bueno. Forget about camels and ostriches, too. Crocs and alligators…oh my! And don’t even think about fucking with a Kinkajou; those cute little furry fucks will shred up the side of your face for no reason whatsoever.
(The preceding list of critters that make bad pets (the the reasons why) can be found here.)
Poor Travis The Chimp!
(By the way, the picture of the chimp putting isn’t Travis; I found it with a Google image search, and I used it here to illustrate today’s blog…and it works quite nicely, I might add).
From CNN: “The friendly guy [Travis] was known to walk around town, sometimes without a leash! He also liked to surf on the Internet and was able to change the TV channel with a remote. Travis watered plants, was able to feed hay to his owner’s horses, ate at a table with the rest of the family and sometimes drank wine from a stemmed glass.
You probably saw Travis, too…cause Coca-Cola and Old Navy hired Travis for their TV ads.
Wonder what Travis’s rate was for that kind of work.
Wonder if Travis ever surfed for porn or watched Katie Morgan’s silly HBO shows while watching TV?
Maybe Travis even stumbled upon Blacks on Blondes! (I’ll ask the owners to do a member search to see if Travis ever joined.)
Anyways, Travis got a little antsy the other day after getting “a haircut that changed her appearance significantly.”
I guess Travis has a vagina to go with her boy name.
So what do you do with a lady chimp that’s pissed about a shitty hair cut?
How about crunch up a Xanax and stir it up in a nice cup o’ tea and hand it to the monkey?
Cause that’s what Travis’s owner did.
Swear.
I guess that would make sense, though, cause I know a lot of ladies who have done the same thing after getting a haircut they didn’t like.
But I guess the Xannie Bar did nothing to alleviate the chimp’s foul mood, cause a little later it ripped someone apart.
Literally.
As in, “Travis jumped on her [the victim] and began biting and mauling her [the victim], causing serious injuries to her face, neck and hands”, and “[the cop who arrived on the scene] said the attack was unprovoked, but described it as ‘brutal and lengthy.’”
The victim isn’t dead…yet.
Of course Travis’s owner didn’t just sit around and watch. He stabbed poor Travis “with a butcher knife and hit him with a shovel.”
Poor Travis?
Fuck yea.
Poor Travis.
By the way, the butcher knife and the shovel treatment didn’t stop Travis.
Not even close.
Somehow, the cops got Travis into the back of the squad car (the report didn’t say how…which would have been the best part of the story to me) but they would up pumping Travis full of bullets after Travis went after them.
Travis’s head is now on its way to a lab to check for rabies, and his body is on its way to another lab for a routine autopsy.
My point to this whole thing?
Well, I guess stick with dogs and cats as pets…and stay away from monkeys.
Especially after a bad haircut.
Super Fun e-mails: Where Are They Now?
The Time Traveler writes from February, 2024:
Since you were the primo-smutmaster of the mid 2000′s, I figured you’d appreciate a Where-Are-They-Now Update of a few Manojob gals you probably remember. Enjoy!
GIANNA- After her stint in porn, Gianna settled down. She’s the proud mama of four very healthy kids. All were breast fed.
KELLY WELLS- Still grappling with legal issues, stemming from an ugly incident involving prescription drugs and a neighbor’s lawn mower.
LEENUH RAE- Lives in Hollywood. Once appeared on The Price Is Right. Lost. Works at Starbucks.
BRITTANY ANGEL- Parlayed her XXX dough into a stripclub of her own. Tends bar. Bounces too.
RACHEL MILAN- Last seen pushing a shopping cart filled with used lamps.
KYLIE WILDE- Lost her battle with baldness. Maintains a bitter blog lashing out at pornographers, the Pope and hair products in general.
MARISSA MENDOZA- Nobody knows. Nobody cares.
INDIA SUMMER- Wanted for “mayhem” in North Dakota and Kentucky.
WHITNEY FEARS- Stand-up comic. Plays nosy Jewish bitch in new CBS sitcom.
SCARLETT PAIN- Went back to school. Elementary school teacher. Fucking the principal.
Well Billy, I’m sad to say that the future was not without SOME sadness. THE LOVE TWINS and their trailer-home were thrown by a tornado into a (ironic enough) nearby church.
The church steeple survived.
LOVE TWIN #2 did not.
LOVE TWIN #1 lost her left foot and married an EMT she met in the aftermath.
Gotta close for now, Billy. I’ll keep ya posted on further future developments.
Super Hero Porn? Bimbofication? Hypno Porn?
One of the things I’ve learned shooting porn is all the different fetishes that will make a dude launch his load. Before I got into this game, I was so naive. Well, maybe not totally naive, cause I’d walk into a dirty book store to rent some porn, and I knew there were sections for all the different kinds of porno that featured boy-girl sex, like interracial, gang bangs, and swallowing…and then, there was The Gay Section.
I always steered clear of the gay section, cause if I accidentally strolled into it, I’d worry some homo might try and hit on me, so I’d high tail it outta there ASAP — cause No Way Am I Gay.
I know what you’re thinking: uh huh…you “accidentally” got yourself into the gay section, Billy. Admit it. You’re such a fag.
No Way!
So I knew there was straight porn and gay porn, and in the Straight Porn World I knew there was gang bang porn, and barely-legal porn, and interracial porn, and stupid porn — stupid only cause it tried to be like a Real Movie, and I always thought to myself who the fuck wants to watch Jenna Jameson try to act and then blow some things up in the middle of the desert and try to act some more…in between taking loads to her face?
Not me…but some people do. And the more I’m in this game, the more I’ve learned about fetishes: jack off on her pantyhose; clown porn; stick a sound down his pee hole…then do the same to her; turn him into a human toilet; smack her hard and then choke her out!; turn him into an ashtray; watch her blow a horse; cuckold him; make her cry.
I have a friend named Steve Steele. He makes Superhero Porn, among other things. He also “hypnotizes” girls and gets them to do dirty, naughty things whilst under his “spell”; and, if that wasn’t enough for ya, he turns girls into bimbos (“Bimbofication”) by having them take a puff off his pipe…and not a crack pipe (or a pipe you smoke weed with) but a pipe like Hef smokes.
Once they take a puff from his pipe, consider them Bimbofied…and everyone knows you can talk a Bimbo into anything. But you already know this, cause you’ve sweet talked a few into sucking your dick, haven’t you?
Anyways, he’s Bimbofied Lexi Belle, (who was superb in her role as “Bonnie Bunnington”) as well as Natalie Norton.
As “Dr. Mesmer” he plays a “mind control marriage counselor” and “hypnotizes” a “terminally lazy wife” — India Summer.
I’m sure you’d like Dr. Mesmer to counsel your girl, huh?
Some of you might like the fact that you get to buy the movies one-at-a-time instead of making some sort of monthly commitment to his site.
So how ’bout you put some of that in your bong and smoke it?
Ashli Orion. Super Slut!
The first thing I asked Ashli Orion to do was walk through the filthy alley wearing almost nothing at all.
“What if the cops drive by and see us? What if they stop?”
I reminded Miss Orion — my new favorite porn whore — that she’s not naked. There’s nothing illegal about walking through an alley in your panties and a super slutty top. “Just don’t let your boobs hang out,” I said.
“I don’t have any,” she replied.
“If they ask us about the cameras, just tell them we’re making a YouTube movie.”
She asked, “Why?”
“Non-commerce,” The Minion said.
The Minion is my PA, but you know that already.
The Minion comes with me to all the “pick-ups” we shoot. A pick-up is Porn Talk for the first 3 minutes of the dirty movie you skip through. It sets up the action.
But you know that already, too.
I didn’t really worry about the cops driving by; I was worried about the homeless dudes who live at the end of the alley. You can’t see them in the picture, but I knew where they were. But I had The Minion in my corner, along with Ashli, so I wasn’t all that worried. Besides, The Minion has a helluva choke hold that he flexes from time to time at his night job bouncing drunks out of the bar.
Ashli strutted her shit up and down that alley, Whore Style.
Suddenly, I had an idea. “Hey hun, you know you’re eating some ass today.”
Ashli looked at me.
“That’s pretty filthy,” I reminded her…which was a stupid thing to say, cause we all know licking a butt hole is fairly dirty.
“Un huh,” she said.
“Um…how about you strut your stuff over to that dumpster and lick it a little bit?”
Ashli looked at me.
I looked at her.
She looked at the dumpster.
I looked at her.
She looked at me.
“That’s dirty,” she said.
“You’re a dirty girl,” I said. Then I smiled. “But it would kinda make my day if you licked the dumpster.”
“That’s all it would take to make your day?”
“I lead a simple life.”
“Let’s see how I feel when I get there,” she said.
She worked the concrete wall. She leaned up against it and hiked her perfect ass into the air. She turned, leaned her back against that wall, took a long look both ways, and opened her shirt. She played with her nipples. She took another long look both ways down that alley before she pulled her panties to the side and rubbed her pussy.
It was wet.
I could hear it.
She strutted back and forth and made her way to the dumpster.
I looked at The Minion, who was keeping an eye on everything…including Ashli’s show.
She made her way to the dumpster and started to work that, too. She leaned up against it, and showed her ass off to my camera some more. She spread her cheeks wide — those purple panties pulled to the side — and showed her butthole off. She turned and gave the camera a pussy show. She spoke into the camera and called herself all sorts of dirty, filthy names.
And then, on her way to lick some butthole, she made my day.
