Business Cards

Yesterday, I was going through the billions of business cards thrown at me like so much confetti over the course of the expo, and Paul suggested that I should post the most interesting ones for you. So, without further ado:



This is Max Hardcore. He really dresses that way. His schtick is to brutally fuck the models, piss in their vaginas, stick lollipops in their assholes, and then make them vomit on his cock. He has them dress like 12-year-olds and smears lipstick all over their faces. At the Expo, he was pushing the girl in this picture around in a wheelchair, and she was dressed up like a broken rag doll. He's very intense and he kind of scares me a little.



This woman's suitcase pimp gave me her card and asked me if I'd like to get to know her. Being an all-around friendly guy, I said sure, but qualified that I would only like to chat (shades of Holden Caufield? Not really. I just didn't want to hurt anyone's feelings). Neither of them were down for talking, but I held onto the card. I like the hint of nipple. It adds class.



These people make "love dolls" and claim that they are the most realistic things on the market. Their website feels like a creepy back alley of the internet, and their dolls are heavy- solid, molded, lumps of an oily, silicon-y material. You can get lighter versions that have the arms and legs removed for the full serial killer experience. I stuck my fingers in a RealDoll's FakeVagina, and it felt like what I imagine a hard, dead, cold vagina to actually feel like. Soon thereafter is when I bought the hand sanitizer.

I stopped at the bar to get some water. By Friday afternoon I was hallucinating from the dehydration, and it got bad enough that I was willing to fight through the hordes of fans clamoring for domestic beer. As I got my water, my head was grabbed by this woman (and keep in mind that there's quite a bit of flash on the picture above. "You have beautiful lips," she said, as she invaded my personal space. "Thank you," I said, pulling away. She was relentless- "Mmmmm. Such a fetish. Wait!" She wrote her phone number on the back of her card. "Call me anytime." I didn't, but I still might. After all, how fascinating is a person who chooses a picture of themselves with a faceful of cum for their business card?



I didn't think to bring a camera. Nick brought a camera, but forgot batteries. Tom whupped us both by packing a well-charged camera. He walked around on Sunday in the guise of a fan, and took pictures of the fans as they salivated over pornstars who could best be described, after four days of working a high-energy expo, as "exhausted". This is demonstrated above. Notice how the novelty of having ginormous breasts on this guy's head isn't really amusing to anyone involved. "Yes, yes. I have breasts on my head," the breasted man seems to be thinking.



Here's an even better example. The breasted man in this picture has his eyes closed. Perhaps he is smelling her boobs. Probably he is. Savoring this chesty moment as best he can. The model, however, has had a sea of faces buried in her tits over the course of the last four days, and this man's sweaty head is doing nothing to excite her. Her smile is a cold thing, and the high heels that she is no doubt wearing have burned blisters into her feet that make this man's pleasure one of the farthest things from her mind. He, however, could give a shit less as he is enveloped by the sweet, sweet scent of bosom. Mmmmm, bosom.