Tuesday, November 22, 2011
The No Vagina Beard
Whenever a woman removes her vagina from my life I like to grow a beard. Its as if the beard itself represents the bush of the female although I would never date a girl whose bush looked like my beard! Its more a rebellious statement to say," hey I don't need to be clean shave because currently there is no woman bitching how it scrapes her tender little face!" When another woman wants to cum my way the VaginaBeard will be shaven!
The Saga of Keanu Reeves' Crotch In the Face of Dr. Teeth
I got up early that April morning back in 2004 and rolled over in bed to find two grams of cocaine spilled all over my lap. I was panic stricken and immediately jumped up to recover ever last grain of heavenly powder that I could. I brushed the white crystals from my chest hair and immediately inhaled what I could. I was like a pack of wild wolves who have just surrounded a helpless bunny, ready for the gangbang and the murder. I managed to save most of the cocaine and place it back in my vial. My head was pounding like Neil Pearts drum set at the RUSH concert I had attended just two days earlier.
I lit a joint and hopped into the shower, immediately rendering the joint useless. This was the start of a savagely demeaning morning. But I had to get my act together and quick because I was invited to a taping of The Sharon Osbourne Show that day and was determined to come off less mind-sapped than Ozzy himself.
The day seemed brighter once fresh water hit my hungover body and I was dressed. Two more lines up my nose and I was ready to take on the world. And with a Venti coffee from Starbucks in hand I was off on the 101 on my way to the set.
Anyone who has ever driven the 101 or the 405 will know that actually moving is the miracle, so with that I took my pipe out of my pocket and proceeded to take the edge of the cocaine by smoking some Orange County Kush. I took the smoke deep into my lungs and as I exhaled, the sun got brighter, the smog cleared and I was content.
I pulled into the parking lot of Sunset and with my all access pass in hand I approached the building for the taping. On my way to the door, I happened by Juliet Lewis who looked at me like some uncaring and unforgiving lover who'd left her to pay not only for the cab ride, but the hotel room.
I gave her a hello, but she gave me a, "fuck off creep.", a sentiment I richly derserved but hadn't yet figured out why. It wasn't until I happened by a car side mirror that I noticed one nostril pancaked with white powder and the other trickly the smallest amount of blood. Ok, I was guilty of public display of cocaine abuse, and Juliet Lewis wanted no part of it. I cleaned my nose and continued.
We were led inside the studio with my friend guaranteeing my a front row seat, but I was actually sat in the third row so I made sure to scratch him off my Christmas Card list that miserable bastard. The show began.......
Sharon Osbourne came out looking like she'd escaped from the set of the Wizard of Oz, small and waifish, wearing $300,000 worth of baubles from her hair to down there. She really had no business hosting a talk show, but the Osbournes were hot and there she was. It took her five times to get the introduction right.
There was as small stage set up and Sharon introduced the band, some unheard of group of misfits calling themselves Becky. There was nothing new or interesting about this band until NEO himself from the Matrix walked out carrying a bass. I thought I was suffering cocaine related delusions, but no, Keanu Reeves was standing there looking smug and self assured. I hate that shit.
The crowd suddenly went nuts for Becky as if the Beatles had reunited and had Elvis as their opening act. It was then I heard the ovulating howls of three girls behind me. It was deafening and irritating. My ear drums vibrated and threatened to burst. These three girls screamed so loud for so long, that Sharon was unable to let the band play. Of course the other members of Becky loved it as they'd never been privy to such adulation before and never would again.
I turned to spy these three Hispanic women, 60 pounds overweight, with makeup that looked like something out of Rocky Horror Picture Show, screaming uncontrollably as if caught up in some epileptic fit and seizing. They just wouldn't stop their cattle call, and it was not obvious to them that time is money and they were wasting everyone's time.
It was that moment I looked around to see if someone was serving drinks so that I may order a Bloody Mary, but no such concession was offered and my head was starting to ache. No way I was going to dare do a few more bumps of cocaine for fear that Ozzy was somewhere near and would end up stealing my stash from me. I looked in that vial and could see some of my chest hairs tangled with that wonderful powder.
But the screaming, it just wouldn't stop. So Superboy Keanu decided to be a hero and save the day. He came running over to the audience which sent everyone else into a sort of 911 panic of excitement, confusion, and insanity.
Keanu leaned over and somehow stretched his arms far enough to fit around all three of these immensly well fed Hispanic women. There was only one problem...
Keanu leaned over me in order to hug them and it was at that moment I realized that I had a multi-million dollar crotch in my face. I started to wonder if I had taken the red pill would Juliet Lewis' sweet pussy been jammed in my face instead of Neo's cock, but alas in the world I inhabited I has stuck sitting there for what seemed like an eternity with Keanu Reeves crotch right in my face, nearing my coffee stained mouth.
I couldn't move. It was like I was possessed by his manhood. I tried to look away but couldn't. He was just so close to my face holding it hostage with what I bet is no more than five inches of cock.
He finished hugging the girls and went back on stage. I am sure to this day they are still bragging about getting a hug from Keanu Reeves, but what they'll never be able to say, and something I live with everyday, is that I had Keanu's cock practically in my mouth.
And in case you were wondering, I gargled with mouthwash for three hours when I got home.
I lit a joint and hopped into the shower, immediately rendering the joint useless. This was the start of a savagely demeaning morning. But I had to get my act together and quick because I was invited to a taping of The Sharon Osbourne Show that day and was determined to come off less mind-sapped than Ozzy himself.
The day seemed brighter once fresh water hit my hungover body and I was dressed. Two more lines up my nose and I was ready to take on the world. And with a Venti coffee from Starbucks in hand I was off on the 101 on my way to the set.
Anyone who has ever driven the 101 or the 405 will know that actually moving is the miracle, so with that I took my pipe out of my pocket and proceeded to take the edge of the cocaine by smoking some Orange County Kush. I took the smoke deep into my lungs and as I exhaled, the sun got brighter, the smog cleared and I was content.
I pulled into the parking lot of Sunset and with my all access pass in hand I approached the building for the taping. On my way to the door, I happened by Juliet Lewis who looked at me like some uncaring and unforgiving lover who'd left her to pay not only for the cab ride, but the hotel room.
I gave her a hello, but she gave me a, "fuck off creep.", a sentiment I richly derserved but hadn't yet figured out why. It wasn't until I happened by a car side mirror that I noticed one nostril pancaked with white powder and the other trickly the smallest amount of blood. Ok, I was guilty of public display of cocaine abuse, and Juliet Lewis wanted no part of it. I cleaned my nose and continued.
We were led inside the studio with my friend guaranteeing my a front row seat, but I was actually sat in the third row so I made sure to scratch him off my Christmas Card list that miserable bastard. The show began.......
Sharon Osbourne came out looking like she'd escaped from the set of the Wizard of Oz, small and waifish, wearing $300,000 worth of baubles from her hair to down there. She really had no business hosting a talk show, but the Osbournes were hot and there she was. It took her five times to get the introduction right.
There was as small stage set up and Sharon introduced the band, some unheard of group of misfits calling themselves Becky. There was nothing new or interesting about this band until NEO himself from the Matrix walked out carrying a bass. I thought I was suffering cocaine related delusions, but no, Keanu Reeves was standing there looking smug and self assured. I hate that shit.
The crowd suddenly went nuts for Becky as if the Beatles had reunited and had Elvis as their opening act. It was then I heard the ovulating howls of three girls behind me. It was deafening and irritating. My ear drums vibrated and threatened to burst. These three girls screamed so loud for so long, that Sharon was unable to let the band play. Of course the other members of Becky loved it as they'd never been privy to such adulation before and never would again.
I turned to spy these three Hispanic women, 60 pounds overweight, with makeup that looked like something out of Rocky Horror Picture Show, screaming uncontrollably as if caught up in some epileptic fit and seizing. They just wouldn't stop their cattle call, and it was not obvious to them that time is money and they were wasting everyone's time.
It was that moment I looked around to see if someone was serving drinks so that I may order a Bloody Mary, but no such concession was offered and my head was starting to ache. No way I was going to dare do a few more bumps of cocaine for fear that Ozzy was somewhere near and would end up stealing my stash from me. I looked in that vial and could see some of my chest hairs tangled with that wonderful powder.
But the screaming, it just wouldn't stop. So Superboy Keanu decided to be a hero and save the day. He came running over to the audience which sent everyone else into a sort of 911 panic of excitement, confusion, and insanity.
Keanu leaned over and somehow stretched his arms far enough to fit around all three of these immensly well fed Hispanic women. There was only one problem...
Keanu leaned over me in order to hug them and it was at that moment I realized that I had a multi-million dollar crotch in my face. I started to wonder if I had taken the red pill would Juliet Lewis' sweet pussy been jammed in my face instead of Neo's cock, but alas in the world I inhabited I has stuck sitting there for what seemed like an eternity with Keanu Reeves crotch right in my face, nearing my coffee stained mouth.
I couldn't move. It was like I was possessed by his manhood. I tried to look away but couldn't. He was just so close to my face holding it hostage with what I bet is no more than five inches of cock.
He finished hugging the girls and went back on stage. I am sure to this day they are still bragging about getting a hug from Keanu Reeves, but what they'll never be able to say, and something I live with everyday, is that I had Keanu's cock practically in my mouth.
And in case you were wondering, I gargled with mouthwash for three hours when I got home.
Dr. Teeth meets Richard Franklin in 2003
Experiences and Article by Dr. Teeth (Entertainment Editor/Los Angeles)
“It’s not that often that you can meet a living legend – but, we did!” – Ron, Senior Editor/West Coast Pin-Up Magazine©.
On three separate Saturday mornings I found myself curving and swerving around the ever nerve-wracking streets of Laurel Canyon to meet one Richard Franklin. Up in the Hollywood Hills, overlooking Brittany Spears old estate, Richard Franklin, of www.richardfranklinphotography.com greeted me with the poise and professionalism of a classy middle-aged English fellow. But any assumptions I made about this witty Englishman through a few introductory phone calls, was instantly shattered when I stood before the man. Richard, looking somewhat like Al Pacino from Godfather III, but with the physique of a young man, who spends a lot of time working out and maintaining the belief that the mind and the body are always interconnected. I was asked to meet with Richard in order to delve into the art and style of his Glamour Photography, but what I found was so much more. Richard Franklin is a Glamour Photographer with his only subject being that of exotic and amazingly beautiful Black women, but that is only one small part of Richard Franklin, the man, the producer, the photographer, but most of all the philosopher.
While never taking a single photography class, Richard approaches his photography much like he approaches life; with a focus, trust in himself and the desire to find what else life has to show him. His subjects come to him knowing that he will make the beautiful look gorgeous while using stark color and simple background to augment the beauty that is the subject of his photo shoots. He avoids black & white as well as pastels in favor of simple color. Richard loves color and his interest is stimulated by black skin on a canvas of his choosing. Sometimes in the pool or behind bright lights, Richard trusts his instincts in knowing what to surround his latest subject with. His attitude is, I shoot for myself and if the model gets something out of it then good for her. It is an attitude that some may dismiss as ego, but to sit with the man, you are automatically pulled into energy of self-assurance. Richard is not egotistical, but rather he is curious and has a level of self-esteem that we should all hope to achieve. He doesn’t look at his photography as the photographer shooting the model, but rather he approaches it as a man who knows what he thinks is beautiful and sets out to complete that thought.
As we sit in his, lavish, yet simply decorated home adorned with artwork of various naked forms, Richard basically dismisses the assertion that he is an artist, or that he is even talented. He confesses that his photographs are not mired in as much talent as others may believe, but rather that he has a vision and he looks to honor it to the fullest. Artists exist to create, to serve their art and that is what Richard Franklin does. But to look at his website, you’d never think these are the photographs of someone who picked up a camera for the first time barely five years ago. Maybe he is the master illusionist, as his photographs show much more talent than Richard will allow himself to admit. Richard basically admits that he comes up with an idea or two and allows everything else in the photographic process to follow suit. He doesn’t appear interested in making the model look exotic or sexy. Rather, he believes they show up that way and as a result of his dedication to his own vision, the two marry together to create some of the sexiest photographs of black women I have ever seen. It is an interesting approach that while serving his own needs, the models ultimately end up looking more gorgeous in the finished product. This is why these girls from all over the place seek Richard out to photograph them. He absolutely does not go shopping for the next great face. In a way he is a hand on photographer with a very hands-off approach. He lets the art come to him. It is again part of the philosophical man that Richard Franklin is.
Born in England to a wealthy family. His aunt Rosalind Franklin, is credited with discovering the structures of DNA and believed by many in the world of science that she was on her way to a Nobel Prize. Richard’s father was a successful investment banker and his mother comes from a long line of dedicated Jews from Poland. He also has five brothers and sisters. But Richard, a self-proclaimed Atheist, set his eyes on America and finally arrived to make his mark. During the 1990’s he bought the rights and produced the controversial stage production of, Disputation, a piece about the Catholic church in Medieval Barcelona conducting a public trial against Judaism. He brought on famed TV director, Asaad Kelada to direct and the accolades started rolling in. Part of Richard’s aim in life is to do things he believes so much in, regardless of whether or not it yields him a financial profit. He does not tie in money with success or more important, self-achievement. Producing this play was just another example of a man who cannot so easily be categorized or simplified. Richard is a man who is always evolving and it just so happens that these days his evolution has taken him behind the lens of an expensive camera in order to satisfy his own desires and likes.
“It’s not that often that you can meet a living legend – but, we did!” – Ron, Senior Editor/West Coast Pin-Up Magazine©.
On three separate Saturday mornings I found myself curving and swerving around the ever nerve-wracking streets of Laurel Canyon to meet one Richard Franklin. Up in the Hollywood Hills, overlooking Brittany Spears old estate, Richard Franklin, of www.richardfranklinphotography.com greeted me with the poise and professionalism of a classy middle-aged English fellow. But any assumptions I made about this witty Englishman through a few introductory phone calls, was instantly shattered when I stood before the man. Richard, looking somewhat like Al Pacino from Godfather III, but with the physique of a young man, who spends a lot of time working out and maintaining the belief that the mind and the body are always interconnected. I was asked to meet with Richard in order to delve into the art and style of his Glamour Photography, but what I found was so much more. Richard Franklin is a Glamour Photographer with his only subject being that of exotic and amazingly beautiful Black women, but that is only one small part of Richard Franklin, the man, the producer, the photographer, but most of all the philosopher.
While never taking a single photography class, Richard approaches his photography much like he approaches life; with a focus, trust in himself and the desire to find what else life has to show him. His subjects come to him knowing that he will make the beautiful look gorgeous while using stark color and simple background to augment the beauty that is the subject of his photo shoots. He avoids black & white as well as pastels in favor of simple color. Richard loves color and his interest is stimulated by black skin on a canvas of his choosing. Sometimes in the pool or behind bright lights, Richard trusts his instincts in knowing what to surround his latest subject with. His attitude is, I shoot for myself and if the model gets something out of it then good for her. It is an attitude that some may dismiss as ego, but to sit with the man, you are automatically pulled into energy of self-assurance. Richard is not egotistical, but rather he is curious and has a level of self-esteem that we should all hope to achieve. He doesn’t look at his photography as the photographer shooting the model, but rather he approaches it as a man who knows what he thinks is beautiful and sets out to complete that thought.As we sit in his, lavish, yet simply decorated home adorned with artwork of various naked forms, Richard basically dismisses the assertion that he is an artist, or that he is even talented. He confesses that his photographs are not mired in as much talent as others may believe, but rather that he has a vision and he looks to honor it to the fullest. Artists exist to create, to serve their art and that is what Richard Franklin does. But to look at his website, you’d never think these are the photographs of someone who picked up a camera for the first time barely five years ago. Maybe he is the master illusionist, as his photographs show much more talent than Richard will allow himself to admit. Richard basically admits that he comes up with an idea or two and allows everything else in the photographic process to follow suit. He doesn’t appear interested in making the model look exotic or sexy. Rather, he believes they show up that way and as a result of his dedication to his own vision, the two marry together to create some of the sexiest photographs of black women I have ever seen. It is an interesting approach that while serving his own needs, the models ultimately end up looking more gorgeous in the finished product. This is why these girls from all over the place seek Richard out to photograph them. He absolutely does not go shopping for the next great face. In a way he is a hand on photographer with a very hands-off approach. He lets the art come to him. It is again part of the philosophical man that Richard Franklin is.
Born in England to a wealthy family. His aunt Rosalind Franklin, is credited with discovering the structures of DNA and believed by many in the world of science that she was on her way to a Nobel Prize. Richard’s father was a successful investment banker and his mother comes from a long line of dedicated Jews from Poland. He also has five brothers and sisters. But Richard, a self-proclaimed Atheist, set his eyes on America and finally arrived to make his mark. During the 1990’s he bought the rights and produced the controversial stage production of, Disputation, a piece about the Catholic church in Medieval Barcelona conducting a public trial against Judaism. He brought on famed TV director, Asaad Kelada to direct and the accolades started rolling in. Part of Richard’s aim in life is to do things he believes so much in, regardless of whether or not it yields him a financial profit. He does not tie in money with success or more important, self-achievement. Producing this play was just another example of a man who cannot so easily be categorized or simplified. Richard is a man who is always evolving and it just so happens that these days his evolution has taken him behind the lens of an expensive camera in order to satisfy his own desires and likes.
Give Us Our Thanksgiving Back
Ok damnit I've had it. Christmas, that holiday that has become all about gifts and gift cards, has begun to seriously encroach itself upon the glorious day that is Thanksgiving. It used to be that insane and greedy shoppers went to dinner with their families only to find themselves standing out in 38 degree weather in the middle of the night waiting for their chosen Big Box store to open so they can grab a TV for $300 or the latest childs toy which by January 3rd, the child won't even play with anymore.
Now those bastards in the retail industry have taken it upon themselves to try and further destroy Thanksgiving by opening their stores ON Thanksgiving in the hopes that your greed will make you forget your family and instead go shopping.
If you love your family so much why not spend Thanksgiving with them, rather than spend it in line or in a store so that you can get them the perfect Christmas gift? How does shopping over quality time with your family show that you love them.
There's a reason we don't go trick or treating on July 4th, and a reason we don't cook a huge feast and give thanks on October 31st., but when it comes to Thanksgiving, all most have on their minds is Christmas.
Thanksgiving is a day to give thanks and spend with our loved ones; not a day to think 30 days in advance to the next holiday. Christmas is so popular because of our greed and materialism. We can't wait for Christmas because we wanna rip open gifts and see how much our love cost. Bah Humbug motherfuckers.
I saw that we as a society reject Black Friday which has actually turned into Blackish Thursday, or at least take the entire family to Best Buy and sit square in the middle of their home entertainment area with your family and share turkey Lunchables and can's of diet Coke.
If you gotta shop that badly then you either don't love your family that much, or your sense of priority's needs a serious reality check.
I for one don't plan on doing my Christmas shopping until Feb., so my family can go suck on it. But I still love you, because I will be present and hungry on Thanksgiving.
Now those bastards in the retail industry have taken it upon themselves to try and further destroy Thanksgiving by opening their stores ON Thanksgiving in the hopes that your greed will make you forget your family and instead go shopping.
If you love your family so much why not spend Thanksgiving with them, rather than spend it in line or in a store so that you can get them the perfect Christmas gift? How does shopping over quality time with your family show that you love them.
There's a reason we don't go trick or treating on July 4th, and a reason we don't cook a huge feast and give thanks on October 31st., but when it comes to Thanksgiving, all most have on their minds is Christmas.
Thanksgiving is a day to give thanks and spend with our loved ones; not a day to think 30 days in advance to the next holiday. Christmas is so popular because of our greed and materialism. We can't wait for Christmas because we wanna rip open gifts and see how much our love cost. Bah Humbug motherfuckers.
I saw that we as a society reject Black Friday which has actually turned into Blackish Thursday, or at least take the entire family to Best Buy and sit square in the middle of their home entertainment area with your family and share turkey Lunchables and can's of diet Coke.
If you gotta shop that badly then you either don't love your family that much, or your sense of priority's needs a serious reality check.
I for one don't plan on doing my Christmas shopping until Feb., so my family can go suck on it. But I still love you, because I will be present and hungry on Thanksgiving.
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