a dirty e-mail

i have no idea who sent this to me, or why for that matter, but i was entertained nonetheless. it's pretty effed-up.

i so love dirty stuff. and i love sharing it.

My Vagina

God I love being a lady. My favorite part is my vagina. Mine is incredibly wide and dizzyingly deep. My favorite part about having a vagina is menstruating. Sometimes when I'm putting in my tampon, I look at the little string hanging out and pretend it's a mouse's tail. I run out of the bathroom naked and yell, "Help! Help! There's a mouse in my vagina! This usually gets a big laugh- especially if I'm at the office, or the mall, or on an airplane.

Sometimes I pretend the string is a fuse, and that if I light it a special bomb will go off in my vagina and my period will be over. For any of you who are curious, this is not what happens when you light the string on your tampon. Even if you have soaked the tampon in kerosene overnight. Trust me I've tried it almost a dozen times without success. It does however work when you use a combination of potassium chlorate, table sugar and a small drop of sulfuric acid.

I like to employ my used tampons to make "vampire soup". I got the recipe from 'Martha Stewart's Living'- although I use fresh basil. We bring it down to the homeless shelter and they lap it up! I also serve it at slumber parties when my girlfriends come over to watch 'Angel'. It just makes everything so much more authentic. After that we normally run around the house in our bras and panties and have tickle fights. Then we practice our French kissing on each other.

I don't let any of the girls go down on me during my period. They have to settle for tonguing my brown starfish. But my boyfriend is another story.

I like to keep my boyfriend guessing about when I'm actually on the rag. That way I can act completely irrational whenever I want. He gets mad when he goes down on me and finds out I'm having my period. But he gets me back by coating my vibrator with chopped glass. Ouch!

But in spite of all of the ups and downs, I love being a lady. Recently, I've been trying to get pregnant by stuffing my vagina with sperm I find on the floor of the porno theatre behind my house. Wish me luck, I'll keep you posted.



in the eye of the storm

okay...i'm a little nervous. my sister heather, who lives in orlando, is down in ft. pierce, florida right now, babysitting my grandfather's girlfriend's condo (long story) while he's in the hospital recovering from gall bladder surgery. she'd be in the hospital right now with my grandfather, but since my mom flew down from cleveland to be with her dad, the hospital refused to let my sister stay, so back to the condo she went...to ride out the storm on her own.

she's a little annoyed, actually. it's a dry household she's in, so there is not a drop of any sort of spirits to drink in the house. in addition to that, there is no cable television, reception on the old TV is spotty, the only music to listen to are ray stevens 8-tracks, and the reading material consists of people magazine, in touch, and the national enquirer. heather told me she's ready to claw her eyes out from boredom. however, in typical fox family fashion, she's taking it in stride and keeping her sense of humor.

let's just hope the roof holds out.

*** 22:03 EST ***

heather just called...something crashed into the condo...she's going to go investigate.

*** 22:07 EST ***

not good. water is coming in everywhere...through the vents, the windows, and it seems the roof is heavily damaged. her cellphone is starting to fail, and luckily, the landline is still working, for now. power is out. conditions are deteriorating. for the first time, i heard fear in my sister's voice. and i am sitting here shaking...i'm 3026.65 miles away, and there's nothing i can do to help her. she's dashing through the house, grabbing old photographs and other unreplacable things, and putting them in bathtub, where she is going to ride out the remainder of the storm underneath a mattress.

*** 22:19 EST ***

tornadoes are roaring all around the fort pierce area...water is pouring through the air conditioning vents and soaking the condo. miraculously...the landline is holding. i'm on the phone with her now...i can hear the wind roaring in the background...it's eerie. heather told me to call my mom, who is still at the hospital a few miles away.


*** 22:26 EST ***

can't get through to my mom on her cellphone right now...and the hospital phone is busy. i'm sure she's fine, as the hospital is built to withstand a category 5 hurricane. my sister hasn't told my mom the severity of the damage to the condo, as she doesn't want her to worry. however, my father, my other sister hillary, and i all know the danger my sister is in right now...and to be honest, i'm scared. i'm sounding chipper for heather, though. since we're both slovaks from cleveland, i did what any self-respecting slovak from cleveland would do...i grabbed my yamaha keyboard, set it to an oberpolka beat, set the voice to "accordion" and started making up polkas off the top of my head, singing them to her. the "my sister is in a bathtub" polka, the "oh no the roof is gone" polka, and the "i'm sure glad i'm not in florida right now" polka rolled off my tongue, and she sang the "my brother is a big gay nerd in san francisco" polka right back. she was laughing hysterically, and it took the edge off her fear...if only for a few minutes.

yeah, that's what we did in the old country.

*** 22:34 EST ***

heather is holding the phone up to the air conditioning vent so i can hear the fury of this storm...not good. i hear water flowing everywhere, roaring wind, and a strange creaking, groaning noise. i have a feeling this condo is not going to be habitable after this is all over.

*** 22:54 EST ***

the landline is down, just a frantic busy signal...a sure sign the phone lines are finally down. i'm watching the live pictures from ft. pierce on cnn...not pretty. i just talked to my dad, who said "that condo is toast."

well, soggy toast. i'm sure there won't be anything left of it.

hold on, heather. don't leave that bathroom, whatever you do. and if the roof goes, stay in that tub with the mattress over you and hold on tight, especially if you hear something that sounds like a freight train bearing down on you.

god, i wish i was there with her. if you have ever had a sibling in distress, especially one you're close to, you know the incredible angst coursing through my veins...coupled with the profound helplessness that i feel.

*** 23:05 EST ***

got through to heather...still in the bathtub...bathroom walls are shaking...no wind in the bathroom yet. she just asked me when the hell the eye is coming through.

soon, heather. soon. hang on.

*** 23:20 EST ***

current conditions in ft. pierce, as per the weather channel:

78°F Light Rain and Windy
Feels Like 84°F
UV Index: 0 Low
Dew Point: 76°F
Humidity: 93%
Visibility: 2.0 miles
Pressure: 29.33 inches and steady
Wind: From the North Northeast at 47 gusting to 60 mph

phone is working again, so i just relayed that info to heather. her response: "it's a lot fucking windier than 47 fucking miles an hour."

i also suspect a lack of wine, reading material, and entertainment is the least of her worries right now.

*** 23:42 EST ***

just got off the phone with my friend wendy in orlando...she said the winds are picking up there, and "it ain't pretty right now." good thing she just got a new roof last week...a tree fell down on her house during hurricane charley a few weeks ago and punched a nice hole in her roof. she was out in her front yard letting her dogs out before it deteriorates any further. she's really mad at my sister for riding out this storm like that, but knows heather is tough. i just hope the condo is as tough as my sister.

*** 00:08 EST ***

it looks like the eye is going to miss ft. pierce, and pass south of it. about 20 minutes south of ft. pierce, the eye has made landfall and the air is completely still. i remember when the eye of hurricane erin came through pensacola...i lit a stick of incense out in the front yard, and the smoke went straight up into the air. i had never seen anything like it.

amazingly, the phone is still working at the condo. my sister is holding tight in the tub, with the winds roaring outside. water is pouring in through several air conditioning vents, and whether or not the roof is going to hold is unclear at this point. something definitely hit the building a few hours ago, and the damage it caused is allowing water to seep inside, not only through the vents, but through some of the walls themselves.

i just hung up with her...as it turns out the line has no call waiting. better to keep the line clear so other people can reach her.

*** 01:54 EST ***

this has all taken a toll on heather. she's bunked down in the bathtub with some blankets and pillows, and has pulled the mattress over the tub. she's gonna try to take a nap, although if the place collapses around her she might awaken. it probably won't, though...the worst of the storm has passed. just a lot more wind, a lot more rain, but it'll be tapering off now.

ai yi yi. i need a drink.



happy birthday to me.

today i am 34 years old. thirty fucking four. how the hell did that happen? i don't "feel" 34, in fact i feel better, stronger, healthier, and more energetic than i did in my 20's. my body is much better too. people often mistake me for being in my mid or late-20's, but i kinda think i look my age. i did feel old recently when i was talking to someone in his early 20's and i mentioned samantha fox...and he had no idea who i was talking about.

c'mon...you're meaning to tell me you've never heard of samantha fox???

it was funny...my clock radio is tuned to 98.1 KISQ, the "yesterday and today" R&B station. anyway, apparently today is also their morning personality renel's birthday...because as soon as the alarm went off, all i heard were people saying "happy birthday!" over and over. in my morning fogginess i was a little befuddled at first, then once i figured it out i tried to call the station to wish renel a happy birthday. after 5 busy signals i said "fuck it" and made myself some tea. but anyway...happy birthday renel.

i will say i think differently than i did in my 20's...i don't get mad at the stupid stuff i used to, i have a lot more insight than i did, i see the "bigger picture" now, and my priorities have changed immensely. i've mellowed out...don't abuse myself nearly as much as i did 10 years ago, don't drink as much, don't do drugs at all anymore (except pot, which i've also cut back considerably), and try to get to bed at a respectable hour. well, i'm still working on that. nonetheless, let's just say i'm really glad to be the age i am...instead of loathing getting older, i'm embracing it and savoring it...because it just gets better and better and better. i wouldn't relive my 20's if you paid me. of course, i have to slather my face in firming night cream every night, 'cause i'm gonna fight these lines that are just starting to appear every step of the way...oh hell yes i am. but i draw the line at botox...that's just a little...evil. besides, injecting botulism toxin into my face just doesn't seem like a Really Good Idea.

anyway...i need to go into the kitchen now and finish making the homemade frosting for my birthday cake. i baked a spice cake last night, and i'm making buttercream cinnamon frosting for it this morning. i borrowed my neighbor's hand-crank mixer to make it, and she actually gave it to me. like said, "keep it. i've had it for 15 years and i never use the damn thing." how cool is that?? my first birthday present and i haven't even gotten dressed yet! (i was wearing boxer shorts and flip-flops when i knocked on her door. sorry hayden...didn't mean to startle you like that.)

today is MY day...the weather here in san francisco is gorgeous...the sky is crystal-clear, the breeze is warm, and it marks another year i've been around. and if you listen to KFOG 104.5 this morning, my buddy dave morey the morning dj is gonna say happy birthday to me. :-)


okay, it's a lot fucking harder to make cinnamon buttercream frosting than you realize. good thing all i was wearing were the boxers and flip-flops...my kitchen counter, floors, and backsplash are all covered in bits of frosting, powdered sugar, and cinnamon. not to mention...me. i actually got a bunch all over my chest...where's chris when you need him? ;-) anyway, my cake is done...it looks cool...and frosting a cake is actually quite similar to spackling a wall.

oh, and dave morey made me blush. he said something really sweet on the air...thanks, dave. :-D it'll be on again tonight at 10 PM.

and finally...happy 44th birthday, joan. you so fucking rock. and you always will.



sorry, scott.

i feel loved. :-)

readenn: dear chad of chad fox dot com
Auto response from Chadfoxdotcom: zzzzzzzzz. mama tired. i all passeded out.
readenn: aww
readenn: fuck



why i love adam flores.

just missed this IM from my friend adam in san antonio when i was at the gym:

Admflores: The world has gone loco! It rained in Vegas, Bush is ahaed in the poles and black people are giving away cars on television.


stuck in my head.

will someone please shoot me? this popped into my head about an hour ago and i'm ready to jump out the window.

Now, the world don't move to the beat of just one drum,
What might be right for you, may not be right for some.
A man is born, he's a man of means.
Then along come two, they got nothing but their jeans.

But they got, Diff'rent Strokes.
It takes, Diff'rent Strokes.
It takes, Diff'rent Strokes to move the world.

Everybody's got a special kind of story
Everybody finds a way to shine,
It don't matter that you got not alot
So what,
They'll have theirs, and you'll have yours, and I'll have mine.
And together we'll be fine....

Because it takes, Diff'rent Strokes to move the world.
Yes it does.
It takes, Diff'rent Strokes to move the world.

or you can click here to hear it for yourself and get it lodged in YOUR head.



johnny ramone, r.i.p.

hopefully hanging out with joey somewhere.

here's the article that appeared in the sf chronicle.



kak si, priyatel?

i don't know what your e-mail address is these days, but i do know that this is an important milestone birthday, and you are in my thoughts today.

just wanted you to know i only wish you success, health, and happiness in your life. and i mean that with all my heart.

kak shte kazhesh tova na bulgarski, chestit rojden den?




the muni pimp

yoga was good tonight...i finally did this backwards bridge thing where you bend over backwards and support yourself with your hands and feet. it's much harder than it looks, not to mention quite painful. but as soon as i did it, i grinned to myself and whispered "YES!" to myself...because it was a goal i finally achieved and now i can go onto the next one. it was quite a personal triumphant moment, one that won't be forgotten anytime soon, that's for sure.

my aching back, arms, and shoulders are gonna be reminding me for a few days now.

pain and bone-popping aside, this put me in a nice mellow mood, actually. however, i didn't want to stand on the corner of 16th and rhode island waiting for the damn 10, so i opted instead to take the 19 puke to the metro because i was kind of hungry and i just wanted to go home. i knew i was opening myself up to all sorts of crazy stuff, but hey...every day is an adventure for me, so why not?

the 19 was uneventful...just kind of filthy with sunflower seed shells everywhere and sticky stains of questionable origin all over the floor. i was sitting in the back of the bus with my "don't you dare think about sitting next to me" expression on my face. it served me well. a homeless woman, flitting around the bus, chatting to passenger after passenger like it was a rolling cocktail lounge, decided she wanted to flirt with me. it would have been fine, had she been oh, 40 years younger, had showered in the past week or so, and had some teeth so i could understand what the hell she was talking about. i swear, every word that came from her mouth sounded like a moaning fart, like some demented, 19-polk muni language. i would have laughed but that would have encouraged her to sit next to me. i wasn't gonna have that.

finally, the bus got to market street, and down i went into the metro station. chris called me as i was about to go to the lower level, which made me miss the train that was pulling out of the station just as i got to the bottom of the stairs. so i sat there for about 15 minutes...listening to the automated muni voice drone on and on and on...announcing countless outbound trains.

ding, dong. "outbound trains. one car. k. in 2 minutes. one car. j. in 3 minutes. two car. n. n. in 7 minutes."

i smiled...the n-judah is always an interesting line. all of a sudden, i hear the sound i've been waiting for.

bong, bong. "inbound train. two car. mission bay. in 2 minutes." mission bay? whoo-hoo! it's gonna be an n-judah! i heard the howling of the train in the tunnel, and stood up. it was a little crowded...not too bad, full of interesting people. there were a bunch of flight attendants on there...i knew they were flight attendants from the uniforms, rolling suitcases, and their well-groomed appearances. oh, and they were extremely effeminate. one of them was kind of cute so i made my way to the front of the car to get a better look at him. they all seemed to be chatting and heavily flirting with a young guy in his early twenties, wearing a dallas cowboys baseball cap, a white sweatshirt, and white sweatpants. it sounded eavesdroppable, so i positioned myself accordingly. however, just as i did that, the whole gaggle of gay flight attendants exited at the powell station, but mr. dallas cowboys stayed on.

then he turned his attention to me, looking me up and down several times.

now, i know this because after living in san francisco for 8 years, i've developed the "homogay peripheral vision" that allows me to see all sorts of things without directly looking at them. it's total awareness of what's going on around you while appearing to have an intense conversation with someone, a skill i've honed at countless parties and evenings at horrible bars in the castro.

namely, badlands.

to be honest, i normally don't strike up conversations on public transportation, but if someone talks to me or asks me something, i'll be social, cordial, and pleasant. the only time i ever spoke to someone first was when i pulled a tourist's checkbook/wallet out of his rear pocket and handed it to him, telling him he'd either better put it in his front pocket or put it in his wife's purse. i wasn't doing it to be a jerk, i just didn't want it to be stolen by someone who would actually keep it. oh, and i also fix your tag on your shirt if it's sticking up in the back. after asking permission first, of course. so mr. dallas cowboys looked like he was about 22 years old, fresh off the boat from iowa or something. he was eyeing me, my butt, my crotch, my gym bag, and my rolled-up yoga mat. he took a deep breath, and i knew he was about to make his move.

"do you do yoga at 24-hour fitness?" he finally blurted out.

oh god, here we go. the old, "what gym to YOU belong to" pickup line. it's the oldest one in the book.

"nope," i replied.



"hmmm...where then?"

"world gym over in potrero hill."

"oh, i've heard of that place!"

oh please, you have not. "really?"

"yeah! i belong to crunch now, they gave me a discount because i'm a student. i guess they just want younger guys there." he then gave me this little "wink-wink" thing.

"i used to belong to crunch, those douchebags charged me $85 a month."

"i only pay $50!"

you douchebag. "good deal, man."

"yeah, i just moved here a few weeks ago. that's why i'm just talking to you randomly on the subway!"

ya think? i thought you had lived here for years.

"people think it's wierd, but how else am i gonna meet people?"

he had a point. "i just usually drop my pants and urinate on people i think are attractive. either that or stomp on their foot," i replied.



we then rode in silence for a few seconds, then he asked me, "hey, when do we get to powell street station?"

"dude, you missed it. it was the last stop."

"oh fuck!"

now listen here pottymouth, we don't use that kind of language here on the n-judah. that's strictly reserved for the 22-fillmore or 14-mission. "don't worry about it, just get off here at montgomery street, walk across the platform, and take the next outbound train to powell."

"okay. so...where are YOU getting off?"

oh PLEASE. the old, "oops i missed my stop may i hang out with you" routine. fighting the urge to say, "in your mouth," i replied, "montgomery."

"you live around here?"

"county jail, down on bryant street. i broke out 2 hours ago."

"i thought you were at yoga."

"i did that after i broke out."


i gave him my best charles manson grin.

"my name is kevin. what's yours?" he said, sticking out his hand.

offering mine in return, i told him, "chadiqua."


"yeah, my mom is black."

he laughed at that one. "we should hang out sometime." after squeezing my hand for about 10 seconds too long, he released it.

"i'm not that interesting, actually," i replied. "or so i've been told."

he paused for a second, and then that muni voice announced the next train, ironically, an n-judah.

"welcome to san francisco." i shook his hand firmly, smiling genuinely, then turned around, and walked off.

© 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008 by Chad Fox. All rights reserved.