Well, you never know.  It just might help:

1. Don’t whisper.  We can’t hear you and what kind of conversation is that?
2. Identify yourself by more than your first name.  There are a lot of Johns and Marks and Toms, and even more than a few Brians and Martins.  (ie. Hi Angela, this is Fred in New York — the guy who has the black nylon fetish and likes cuckold fantasies.)
3. Rule of Thumb:  You should feel dirty during the call, but if you’re still feeling dirty after the call — well something just isn’t right.
4. Read up on a girl — check out her blog and/or website.  Know who you’re calling.  We like to know you are calling us purposely and not just randomly. 
5. Three way calls are usually a waste of your money.  You’re paying double (for the two of us) and it can be confusing and just not erotic at all.  A talented PSO can easily create a second girl (sometimes 4, 5 and even more girls — though the names start criss-crossing after a certain point) which will save wear and tear on your credit card.
6. Asking for discounted calls is just not cool.  Would you like it if your employer wanted to pay you less for the job you do?
7. Give us a rough outline of where you want to go.  Keep it short and simple.  Let us fill in the little details that will make your fantasy special and a unique new thing which we created together.
8. Always be a gentleman.  Say hello.  Exchange some civil chit chat.  That little bit of time getting comfortable will deeply enhance the intimacy you are looking for.
9. If your PSO is jealous because you call other girls, drop her.  We are your candy shop.  How dare she want you to keep your hands off all the goodies.
10. Sometimes things just don’t go well.  If you called her because you liked her profile, give her another chance.  It could make all the difference in the world.
11. Don’t ask to meet her.  Phone Sex is a business arrangement and not a dating service.
12. There’s nothing wrong with telling your PSO your time frame.  Some guys really only need ten minutes, others will talk for hours.  If we know ahead of time, we can pace the call.
13. Participation in the actual fantasy is up to you.  Some guys just want to listen.  Others want to take an active role.  Let your PSO know your preference.
14. If you like to play with toys while on a call, get yourself some headphones.  You’ll be glad you did.
15. Don’t send pictures of your dick as an introduction.  If you simply must, at least wait until you’ve gotten to know each other a little bit.
16. FYI:  If you do cocaine (or other uppers) and make calls, you will spend a lot of money.  PSOs love these calls.  You can’t get off, you need to talk, and it’s by the minute.  We make bank and you go broke.
17. Don’t show your face (on cam or via compromising pictures) to someone you just met on the phone.  Protect yourself and your loved ones.
18. Don’t make the mistake of comparing your significant other to your PSO.  We get paid to be sexy, to agree with you, to treat you like a king.  Do you think our boyfriends or husbands get this kind of treatment from us?  Nope.
19. Don’t hang up when you cum without saying goodbye.  It’s tacky.  And the nicer you are to us, the nicer we are to you.
20. Phone sex is an indulgence, your special treat to yourself.  You deserve it.  But don’t let it become an addiction or substitute for real relationships.  Because then it just isn’t any fun.

Hello, this is Angela.

Er, this is Mr. X.  How are you today, Angela?

Well, Mr. X, I’m fine.  How did you find me today, over the phone or on the Internet?

I saw your website and you are so damn sexy.

Well, thank you Mr. X.  Was there anything at my website that particularly caught your attention?

You are just so hot.

Okayyyy … Well, do you want to tell me what you’re into?  Or are you the shy type?

No, I’m not shy.

So where do you want to go today?  What are you looking for exactly?

I like sex - any kind of sex.

Okay, let’s try this.  I’m going to give you a little sex quiz.  I will describe a scenario and you rate it from one to ten, with ten me the hottest.

Yeah, let’s do that.

A woman in stockings and heels.

Five.

A woman who takes control.

Five.

Lesbian sex.

Three.

Gay sex.

Four and a half.

A woman tying you up and teasing your cock.

Three.

A woman with a strap-on.

Two.

Anal sex.

Four.

Cuckolding.

What’s that?

**********

Obviously this conversation was not going to go anywhere.  Mr. X may not have been shy, but he certainly was lukewarm and just really didn’t have a clue. 

But I did have a clue, right from the start.  First of all, when Mr. X referred to my "website" it was immediately apparent he was actually referring to the business platform where I have listings.  He was not familiar with my websites which include this blog, Blistered Lips or Literate Smut.  Secondly, I purposely use commercial pics on that platform, which are suggestive and sexy, but are obviously not me.  So how did he know that I was "just so hot?"

I always ask a new caller how he found me, because with guys who haven’t checked out my site, there is definitely a learning curve.  If they’ve checked me out, we more or less are already starting out on the same page, which makes it so much easier and fun for both of us.  In other words, when someone takes the time to check out the service I provide, he is calling because he is pretty sure I am just what he is looking for.  On the other hand, the Mr. X type usually just want a pussy with a voice.  Bleh.

And what in heck does "I like sex" mean?  Of course you do, Mr. X.  We all like sex.  But sex, particularly phone sex or at least my version of it, is multi-faceted.  I mean, come on, you are a man, after all.  You must be surfing for porn at least on occasion.  We have swinging, foot fetishes, shemales, BBWs, leather scenes, bondage, oral sex, cross dressing, mutual masturbation, spanking, lingerie, fuck me pumps, prostate milking, orgasm denial, interracial, all kinds of role play (governess, secretary, teacher, employer, medical, etc.), objectification, erotic hypnotism, BDSM, romantic, slutty … and on and on and on.  Can’t you pick something?  What do you think about when you jerk off? 

My little quiz is pretty standard when the guy just isn’t putting anything on the table.  It’s a way for me to try to get a handle on just what should happen next, and has many times actually turned a call that started off on the wrong foot into something pretty darn special.  Unfortunately, Mr. X just wasn’t too enthused about anything.

I finally just took control and did a "guided masturbation" scenario and Mr. X went away happy.

I, on the other hand, developed a migraine.

xo, Angela

Many times I am asked by some of my very special guys to "please, oh, please" set up cam so that we can cam together.  Quite frankly, I hate cam.  So much so that one of my regular clients always starts his call by teasing me with, "Oh, Mistress, is this your cam line?"  To which we share a good laugh and then get on to the business of being dirty.  There are a variety of reasons for my "cam aversion," including family members who have high -profile jobs and count on my discretion. 

Of course it could also be that  A) I’m actually 97 years old, but blessed with a youthful voice.  B) I am severely deformed, with three ears on the left side of my head. C) I weigh 573 lbs, devouring a bucket of fried chicken during each call. D) I have only three teeth.  NOT in the front of my mouth.  E) My breasts hang so low that in the winter I use them as ear muffs.  F)  All of the above..

As I said, my reasons are varied, but let me tell you a true story about my one and only experience with cam.  And boy was it an eye-opener for me.

So when I first showed up on the web wanting to quit my day job and get back into the phone sex biz, I took a job with a small company that  — ascribing to the "more is better" business philosophy — featured both cam and phone sex girls.  Their website was rather rudimentary at best, but I was new to all this Internet stuff and hardly noticed.  Now I happen to be very much a company person when I’m working for the man; always have been.  I did what was asked of me and did it well.  I brought aboard a bunch of guys who’d been my regulars from my college days and were high-end clientele.  The minimum call I was used to was thirty minutes and the average time these people were used to seeing was ten minutes.  Not only did my callers often times talk one to four hours, they called back often.

I was the company’s fair haired child, no doubt about it.  BUT!  I only did phone, which frustrated the owners, when they knew they could skim more if I did cam.  Why?  Because the calls were 2.50 a minute, while cam was 3.99 a minute.  With dollar signs in their eyes, they began wooing me.  They knew what I looked like from the driver’s license I’d submitted with my resume and kept telling me how rich I would become if I would set up a cam line at their site.   Quite honestly, the prospect of making more money did have me thinking.  I should have known better, because I’d already become disenchanted with the types of callers their "pussy, pussy and more pussy" type of marketing attracted.  But I was new to all of this and still earning my wings, so to speak.  

One the girls featured on the Phone Sex division of the site found herself in a jam, and I was called in to pinch hit.  Literally.   Apparently Tiffany was actually two people for our callers.  She was the "content" girl I knew her as — a fiery, small-framed redhead — and she was also the voluptuous, curvy, BBW cam blonde, Maggie Mae.  That’s how smart I was at the time:  I hadn’t a clue! 

It happened that Tiffany had a regular caller, Anthony, who — as men are apt to do more often than not — slutted around with other girls from the site.  Well, he happened upon Maggy Mae and was absolutely smitten.  He kept insisting he wanted to cam with her, and she kept putting him off.  Apparently, the phone conversations between Anthony and her content persona occurred often enough that she was terrified he’d recognize her voice.  But he continued to insist; and because he spent a whole lot of money with the company, the owners decided they had to fulfill his wish.

Which is where I came into the picture.  The owners proposed that we set up a three way call — Maggy Mae, me and Anthony — with Anthony, of course,  totally unaware of what were doing.  Maggie Mae would mute at her end and I would become her voice, watching her cam show so that I could talk realistically about what was occurring.   We would both be able to hear Anthony, while he watched her and heard me.  This would work just fine, they explained, because Yahoo cam is a few seconds behind what is actually happening, and it would be easy for Maggie Mae to move her mouth to match what I was saying.

While I was more than reluctant to participate, both Maggie Mae and the owners, appreciating my hesitancy, assured me that Anthony never lasted more than fifteen minutes, anyway.  So why not?  Why not sin once for the Gipper? Like I said, I’m a company kind of girl and all.   Plus, by "camming by proxy" I figured I’d get an inside look at how this cam thing worked.  Just in case I decided to take the plunge.  And so it began.

Unfortunately, Anthony was "in a mood" or extra horny or something, because the call actually ended up lasting well over an hour.  He also happened to like a lot of grunting and groaning and screaming.  That hour plus was probably the most tedious time I’ve ever spent with a client.  As I moaned and groaned and yelled and faked orgasm after orgasm, and Maggie Mae energetically lip-synced along, dear little Anthony enthusiastically gave direction:  "Fuck yourself with that dildo."  and "Spread your legs so I can see your pussy." and "Shove that red dildo up your ass." 

By the time the call finally ended, my throat was hoarse and I’d developed a migraine, Maggie Mae’s ass and pussy were stretched and extremely sore (she didn’t do cam again until the following week), and on top of it all, Maggie Mae was angry with me and even a little jealous that her boy had lasted so long with me on the phone.  Which was just silliness, because Anthony hadn’t a clue as to how he’d been bamboozled.  He signed off with stars in his eyes and a smile on his face.

The experience solidified for me all that I personally don’t like about cam and why I’d be absolutely terrible at it.  I like fantasy.  I like kinky, perverse mind fucks.  I want to create scenarios that — at least most of the time — should never, ever see the light of reality.  And I like the romantic mystery and intrigue created by two voices touching each other intimately with just our whispered, secret desires.  So I made the decision to stay away from cam and stick to what I knew best.

Not long after that, I decided to take things in my own hands and left that company to start my own business.  Goodbye to Anthony and ten-minute-wankers forever.  At least for the most part. 

And I lived happily ever after.

xo, Angela

PS.  If you’re the kinda guy who digs cam girls, stay tuned for a blog entry soon, in which I will introduce you to some very hot cam girls.  If I can’t scratch that itch for you, might as well find you somebody who can!

 X - Rated Web ~ January 2008

Antiquarian Erotica
Behind the Scenes of the Adult Industry
Cute Teen Video
Dwarf Phone Sex (and she’s a cutie)
Ebony Cock in White Ass Video
Filthy & Taboo Classic Novels to Download FREE
Girl Action and Strap-On Video
Hermaphrodite Video (A MUST SEE!)
Incredibly Sexy Blog
Just Awesome FemDom Handjob Video
Kitty Paddle:  Spank her ’til she purrrrrrs.
Licentiousness Long Before the Internet
Men on the Menu  …  seriously!
Not My Cup of Tea (but to each, their own)
Oh, Cum All Ye Faithful
Poor Rob!  Jill Owns That Cock.
Quintessential Perversion Documentation
Really What It’s All About
Shakespeare Pornography
Transexuals on Drugs at Amazon???
Utterly Queer Cowboys Video
Vagina Sofa at Craig’s List
Wanton Male Blog
X -Rated Dictionary
Your I.P.’s too sexy for the web, too sexy…
Zenith of Sex Blogs

FYI:  If you’re wondering where I disappeared to over the weekend, my PC went bonkers and I was off line whilst the boo boos were medicated and everything else got either over-hauled or re-newed.  This included  a new monitor which I’m not so sure is an improvement over the other, but my tech guy tells me I will adjust and sing praises in short time.   I look forward to that epiphany.  

It was nice to come back and see that Pervert Savant’s latest chapter of Lingerie on the Razor Wire inspired my readers to leave commentary.  Thanks for letting us know you dig Biff and the gang.  As most of you noted, PQS can spin quite the tale and I am honored that he has chosen my humble blog as his place to tell this most interesting of stories.

I also noticed that I missed quite a few callers this past weekend and am sending personal emails to each of you.  I look forward to connecting with you soon and do hope you found someone special to talk with in the meantime.  Just not too special.  *wink*

Which, in a round-about-way, brings me to what I thought I’d talk about today:  Phone Sex Fantasies.  Because as unique as human beings are, so goes our fantasies.  Each and every one, no matter the kink, fetish, or desire has it’s own peculiar quirks and turns. 

Ten guys might want a hand job, but:  Mr. A wants tied up.  Mr. B. wants tied up, but also wants three girls at the same time.  Mr. C. dreams of jerking his own cock while his Mistress helps him along.  Mr. D. wants one girl to grind into his face with her panty-covered twat while another girl strokes him intermittently, Mr. E. would like to be masturbated in the bar under the table while his hot wife tells him who she fucked last night.  Mr. F….  Well, you get the picture.

So many fantasies, so little time?  Nah, there’s plenty of time for every one of them.  Today let’s look at what makes for a "quality" phone sex fantasy.  At a later date (possibly even in a series of posts) we can look at specific "niches."

First of all, phone sex is not a monologue:  it is a dialogue.  It takes both the PSO and the caller to really make it work.  Sometimes a caller is too shy or embarrassed to really say what his secret desire is, which is perfectly understandable.  But it can be frustrating on our end.  If we care about what we do and want to do it well for you, we need some markers.  On the other hand, we are the professional in this situation.  You are the client and we should — at least most of the time — be experienced and empathetic enough to help you get comfortable enough to open up at least a little.

So let’s assume we’ve gotten past the small talk/foreplay.  What happens next?  Well, again, this very subjective.  And again, it is the PSO’s responsibility, as the professional provider,  to follow your lead.  Some of you want an intimate, one-on-one interchange with things happening in real time (ie. "stroke your cock for me and rub your anus"), while others prefer to listen to a well-developed scenario, imagining yourself in a "situation" (ie.  your sister-in-law and I have tied you down and are making you watch while we "do" each other).  Still others enjoy intermingling a bit of fantasy with a bit of reality (ie.  stroke that hard cock for me while I tell you about me, you and the Dominatrix who is in our hotel room).

Any of the above can work.  Lucky for us, most of the time it works very well.  My personal/professional opinion is that the first call is kinda-sorta like a "first date."  In fact, in many ways it’s more or less like a BLIND first date.  Unless you’ve emailed back and forth with the PSO previously to that first call, she is actually more blind than you are.  She knows one thing:  You are horny.  You, on the other hand, have most likely perused her website and/or blog.  Until you actually talk, the info you garner is on par with what your friends might tell you about a girl they want to fix you up with:  it’s all second party, with no first-hand experience.

So you just have to take the plunge.  Nobody gets it right — caller or PSO — one hundred percent of the time.  While I have many fans and repeat callers, I also have gentlemen who simply abhor me.  Can you believe it?  Sweet little me?  Well it’s true.  I am human and try hard.  I always give the best that I have.  Unfortunately, sometimes the best that I have is not what a caller is looking for.  And sometimes the best that I have just is not good enough.

The reason I bring this up is that, many times, because of nerves or personal situations or a zillion different other things, that first call might not go right.  It doesn’t hurt to try again.  Yes, I do mean to try again with the very same PSO.  Put yourself in her panties (i mean figuratively, metro sissy!).  You’ve seen her ads, her website, perhaps even read some reviews.  You called her for a reason, so don’t give up so easily.  Maybe the stars were misaligned, maybe her toilet overflowed right before the call, maybe you were so drunk you weren’t making sense.

The best Phone Sex Fantasies I’ve experienced are usually with someone I’ve gotten to know.  We’ve taken some time to figure out exactly who we are together and then met somewhere in the middle re. exactly how we define Phone Sex.  Because, as I said earlier, everyone brings their own expectations to the table.  So getting to know a PSO, taking a chance with more than a few calls, probably isn’t such a bad idea.  Give it a try.

Lastly, let me remind you that I am not an expert on any of this.  I only bring my own experiences to this blog and you.  That’s all I have for you.

Hopefully, it’s enough. 

xo, Angela

Some of you are surely familiar with Kinky Cards, which has been on the web for at least as long as I have … and who knows how much longer.  As you can see, I was the lucky recipient of one of their cards today, and — being totally unexpected — it really made my day.  (Thank you, Mr. D.)  

If you've been wanting to send a Christmas Greeting with just a bit of an edge to it, or maybe even a big edge, then you can't go wrong with Kinky Cards.  There is a generous selection of cards for every occasion, from Halloween to birthdays to Valentine's Day.  A fairly new and darling Vintage Collection features specific categories such as Lingerie, Voluptuous Vixens, Foreplay (very romantic and pretty), Corsets and Naughty Girls.  Even if you don't want to send a card, it is fun to look around.  Every time I visit I end up browsing the site.

So we're almost to the big day, huh?  Me?  I'm still wrapping and curling ribbon, but I can finally see the light at the end of the tunnel.  All the stuff I had to mail went out Wednesday and you don't even want to know what I spent on postage.  I thought I'd started early enough, but, alas, once again…here I am running around like a mad woman.  Next year, please remind me to start getting ready in July.  I think that is the only safe bet.

A Christmas Poem

'Twas The night before Christmas,
And all through the house,
Not a creature was stirring,
So I took their stereo.

Ten Reasons a Christmas Tree is Better Than a Woman

1. A Christmas tree doesn't care how many other Christmas trees you have had in the past.
2. Christmas trees don't get mad if you use exotic electrical devices.
3. A Christmas tree doesn't care if you have an artificial one in the closet.
4. A Christmas tree doesn't get mad if you break one of its balls.
5. You can feel a Christmas tree before you take it home.
6. A Christmas tree doesn't get mad if you look up underneath it.
7. When you are done with a Christmas tree you can throw it on the curb and have it hauled away.
8. A Christmas tree doesn't get jealous around other Christmas trees.
9. A Christmas tree doesn't care if you watch football all day.
10. A Christmas tree doesn't get mad if you tie it up and throw it in the back of your pickup truck..

xo, Angela 

If I were more of the professional sort, I would keep charts and graphs about all kinds of stats.  i.e. types of calls, lengths of calls, advertising budget, demographics, fetishes, kinks, unique requests, repeat callers.  I could get highly analytical with the collected data, cross-referencing and applying mathematical isms and such. 

But I just find the whole thing much too tedious and all that stuff is really just jabberwocky to me.  I'm a smart ass poet, dontcha know?  No time nor tolerance for such scientific shenanigans. 

What I do know is that — without naming names — I have a heck of a lot of attorneys as clients.  So this is a special little homage for you guys.  You know who you are.

*** 

Q.  Santa Claus, the tooth fairy, an honest lawyer and an old drunk are walking down the street together when they simultaneously spot a hundred dollar bill.  Who gets it?

A.  The drunk, of course.  The other three are mythological creatures.

***

A man died and was taken to his place of eternal torment by the devil. As he passed sulfurous pits and shrieking sinners, he saw a man he recognized as a lawyer snuggling up to a beautiful woman.

"That's unfair!" he cried. "I have to roast for all eternity, and that lawyer gets to spend it with a beautiful woman."

"Shut up!" barked the devil, jabbing him with his pitchfork. "Who are you to question that woman's punishment?"

*** 

Q.  Have you heard about the lawyer's word processor?

A.  No matter what font you select, everything comes out in fine print.

***

There's an interesting new novel about two ex-convicts. One of them studies to become a lawyer, the other decides to go straight.

*** 

When two dogs fight for a bone, and a third runs off with it, there's a lawyer among the dogs.  ~German Proverb

*** 

Q.  How many lawyers does it take to change a light bulb?

A.  Fifty four.  Eight to argue, one to get a continuance, one to object, one to demur, two to research precedents, one to dictate a letter, one to stipulate, five to turn in their time cards, one to depose, one to write interrogatories, two to settle, one to order a secretary to change the bulb, and twenty-eight to bill for professional services.

***

How lawyers do it…

Lawyers do it with appeal.
Lawyers do it confidentially.
Lawyers do it on a trial basis.
Lawyers do it until justice prevails.
Lawyers do it as long as you can pay them.
Lawyers do it unless it is prohibited by law.

*** 

Q.  What do lawyers use for birth control?

A.  Their personalities.

*** 

Q.  Where do vampires learn to suck blood?

A.  Law School.

*** 

A defending attorney was cross examining a coroner. The attorney asked, "Before you signed the death certificate had you taken the man's pulse?"

"No," the coroner replied.

The attorney then asked, "Did you listen for a heart beat?"

The coroner said, "No."

"Did you check for breathing?", asked the attorney.

Again the coroner replied, "No."

The attorney asked, "So when you signed the death certificate you had not taken any steps to make sure the man was dead, had you?"

The coroner, now tired of the brow beating said, "Well, let me put it this way. The man's brain was sitting in a jar on my desk, but for all I know he could be out there practicing law somewhere."

***

Q.  Why aren't lawyers allowed on the beach?

A.  Because cats keep trying to bury them in the sand.

*** 

"You seem to be in some distress," said the kindly judge to the witness.  "Is anything the matter?"  "Well, your Honor," said the witness, "I swore to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, but every time I try, some lawyer objects."

***

Q.  Whats the difference between God and a lawyer.

A.  God doesn't think he's a lawyer.

*** 

I get paid for seeing my clients have every break the law allows.  I have knowingly defended a number of guilty men.  But the guilty never escape unscathed.  My fees are sufficient punishment for anyone.  ~F. L. Bailey

________________________________________________________

xo, Angela 

toys for tots 

So for the second time I’ve joined a gym. Last year’s endeavor, well, the place was just too far away–eating up at least three hours of my precious life every time I went. This one is a lot closer–I can make it there in ten minutes. And I have access to a personal trainer if I so desire. Plus there is a hair salon and nail salon in the same complex, which you can bet I will be checking out.

So for the last three days I’ve been working out on these machines, hoping that I can become physically stronger, particularly my upper body. Due to regularly (five days/week) jogging/walking five miles, my legs could practically be registered as lethal weapons. If you are into smothering and/or queening, I’m you girl…I’m talking major headlock, baby cakes.

There is a series of probably 15 machines which, according to my trainer, I have to utilize–NO SKIPPING!–during my visit. I am breezing through the ones concentrating on calves, hips, and thighs. But the ones where I have to work my arms in a variety of torturous combinations are kicking my cute little ass, let me tell you!

But there is good news: Today I actually did the circuit twice, with my trainer only correcting my “form” on one of the machines. I think this is going to grow on me. Because even though my arms are aching a tad right now, all and all, I feel fantastic. In fact, I just might be able to take you in a bout of arm wrestling. Well, maybe in a few weeks or so.

***

Now lets talk about my hair. I recently had more highlights put in…and it looks fucking fabulous. I am paying $180 for this service, because I believe you get what you pay for. My hair happens to be important to me. As it is with most women. Unfortunately the original hairdresser lost her zing or enthusiasm or something. I switched to another girl at the salon who actually seems to want to do her best for me. Which is what I expect when I am spending this kind of money and tipping very well. So we may have World War III at the salon, or perhaps a minor skirmish, as these girls are usually very territorial about clientèle.

Regardless, I made my choice, I love the new hairdresser…so screw the old one with the bad attitude. She should have at least pretended to give a damn.
***

If you’re a Top Chef fan–and I am sooo a super fan–you watched last night and saw that Hung beat out Casey and Dale to take the title of Top Chef for season three. I’ve been hooked on this show from the first season, even though I’m not much for fancy dishes. What engages my interest is the passion these people have for what they do.

I have to admit that I’ve kinda caught the REALITY TV bug…with at least some semblance of reason. I don’t do The Bachelor, or Survivor, or Dancing with the Stars and a whole lot more. But I do have a thing for Project Runway and American Idol. I didn’t want to get hooked; it all started with Fantasia who won the third season of American Idol. I was just flipping through the channels, when I saw this girl just belting out a song like there was no tomorrow. I stuck around to see who she was, and there I was–signed, sealed, delivered–a new American Idol junkie.

Reality TV is big time these days. So much so that MTV sees the need to distinguish it’s new show, Kaya, which is not a reality show, with the following blurb: “MTV’s New Scripted Show.” I found that quite telling in re. to what’s happening all over the tube today.

***

I think men in boxers are so sexy. Men in panties can be sexy too, though. And don’t you forget it.

xo, Angela

DISCLAIMER: I’m a bleeding-heart liberal, and today I am on my soap box, so Don’t Give Me Shit on This. It’s my blog and my heart.

…and Pedro Zapeta’s heart.

I don’t have a problem with immigrants, even “illegal” ones. The American Dream was borne of immigrants. We’re all Heinz 57 mutts, when you get right down to it.

And you can bet your sweet ass that if we lived today under the fist of a cruel dictatorship or in the midst of poverty, each and every one of us would be hightailing it to “The Land of Opportunity.”   We’re the light of the world, for Chrizts sake! Who wouldn’t rather be here?

Guatemalan Pedro Zapeta had his own American Dream: To come to America where he would get paid what was–for him–a decent wage for his hard work. He didn’t even want to stay forever…just long enough to save up some money. And so he somehow made it to Florida, where he landed what must have seemed a dream job as a dishwasher, making $5.50 an hour. For the next eleven years, keeping his belt tight, he skimped and saved…and worked and worked and worked.

He must have thought he hit a gold mine when he eventually got a 25 cent raise. Which was for good job performance, by the way. Wish I could meet some “American born” service workers who actually cared about their job performance. Being good at what you do seems to have gone out of style with the true blues.

Two years ago, Mr. Zapeta decided it was time to return home. With his entire life savings — $59,000 — in a duffel bag, he was going through customs at the Fort Lauderdale Hollywood International Airport, when a security officer called U. S Customs, who were quick to confiscate the money.

Although Customs Officials dropped original allegations that Mr. Zapeta was a drug currier, they were still All American enough to keep his money, because, after all, this non-English speaking illegal alien did break THE LAW when he attempted to leave the country with more than 10K and not declaring it. Duh! He sure wasn’t hiding it. It was in his duffel bag. That’s pretty much is the same as making a declaration–when you don’t speak a lick of English and haven’t a clue about THE LAW.

Then again, a home-grown USA boy –someone like Ken Lay or Joe Nacchio– would have used his good old American know-how to send that money electronically so that nobody would be the wiser. Come to think of it, maybe Mr. Zapeta’s only mistake is not understanding the NEW American Dream: Get the money and run, fucking over everybody and anybody while you’re at it.

Still holding on to his (very) hard earned cash, our Men on White Horses turned Mr. Zapeta over to the INS, who began deportation proceedings. But two lawyers with hearts (they do exist: I know quite a few from the kink-O-phone), working pro bono, took up his cause, fighting the deportation and trying to get his money back. And when the story made the news, donations came pouring in. Now 10K sits in a trust, which apparently Mr. Zapeta is also not permitted to have. But it seems that after two long years, officials are willing hammer out a (somewhat lacking) negotiation:

Robert Gershman, one of Zapeta’s attorneys, said federal prosecutors later offered his client a deal: He could take $10,000 of the original cash seized, plus $9,000 in donations as long as he didn’t talk publicly and left the country immediately.

But Pedro Zapeta is having none of it. He says, ” They are treating me like a criminal when all I am is a working man.” I agree with him, am rooting for him, am praying for him and champion him.

So it’s been two years since Customs officials took their stand at the OK Corral and saved the good people of the wild, wild west from the likes of Pedro Zapeta.

But somehow I just don’t feel any safer.

Do you?

xo, Angela

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