hard out there for a ho (part 3)

i used to be annoyed and mystified by those bloggers who, without any explanation to their readers, just stopped blogging one day for no apparent good goddam reason--until, that is, i became one of 'em.

because now i understand why it happens.  one day, you just look up after years of doing this shit and realize you've pretty much shot your wad, said everything you have to say.  but you don't formally call lit quits--you figure you'll come back in a week or so, when the muse whispers into your ear once more.  and then that week turns into weeks, and the weeks become months, and…well, here we are.

so, yeah, i'm still (1) battling my demons, (2) having lots of age-inappropriate sex, and (3) watching the western world devolve into chaos exactly as predicted, but, having had nothing new to add to these three pillars upon which this blog rests, i've kept my distance, figuring if anything truly outta the ordinary came up, i'd maybe check in again.

well, something finally did, so here i am.

this story started out ordinarily enough (for me, anyway), back in late december, with a truly memorable night with a cute 20-year-old named ruben out in riverside. came home the next morning, packed up the car a couple days later and headed east for the holidays.

it was the morning after christmas, in wichita falls, texas, in the bosom of my family, standing there sleepily contemplating the big jesus-loves-you cross hanging over the toilet whilst waiting for the stream, that i first felt the burn.

i dismissed it as nothing, of course, because denial always comes first.

it was only later that day, standing in fronta that same toilet, when i whipped it out, cautiously gave it a pre-piss squeeze, saw the unmistakable, tell-tale pearl emerge, that i knew for sure.

i rotated through the other four stages in a matter of minutes--first, goddam you ruben you little whore, then please god no, then kill me now, and, finally, fine, deal with it.

i went out on the front porch, sat down on the steps, lit a smoke, called ruben, wished him a merry christmas, broke it to him gently, told him he needed to get tested immediately.  (how did i know it was ruben, you ask?  simple process of elimination--ruben was the only one i'd had sex with in the past two weeks (due only to a bad cold), and there had been no one after.)

a word now about STD etiquette:  blaming poor ruben woulda been pointless, because it really doesn't matter who clapped whom--we're both reckless sluts, and if that guy in amarillo hadn't flaked on me two days after ruben, i'd have no doubt passed it on to him.  so you gotta be philosophical about these things, is my attitude.

at this point, faithful readers, you might be wondering why mkf has broken several months of radio silence only to tell you this sorry little story, and you might have a point, if i didn't have a point, too.

see, i was in a mess--here i was in a strange town in texas, about to leave for another one, and then another one two days after that;  it wouldn't be until i was in austin nearly a week later that i'd have even a hope of getting treatment for what suddenly ailed me.

and i couldn't wait that long, because it was bad, and getting worse.

so, two excruciating days later, as soon as my mother, sister and i arrived in dallas (i.e., semi-civilization), i made my excuses and burned rubber for the nearest whole foods, where i picked up the two strongest natural anti-bacterials of which i know, started dosing myself with same at staggered intervals throughout each day and night.

and prayed.

all for nothing, so it seemed--by then, the pus had given way to blood, the bowl turned dark every time i pissed, and the pain was intense.  but i kept on.

the darkest moment, i think, happened the night i finally hit austin.  intensely horny, and having had to cancel a long-standing appointment (with the hottest, hungriest boy you or i have ever seen, trust me), alone in my motel room, and for the first time in ten days, i gave in and jerked off.

before that night, i had never even imagined such a thing as red semen was possible.

but, yeah, it is.

*     *     *     *     *

austin free clinic, four days later

she was the coolest doctor i've ever met--about my age, years in the trenches, had seen it all, yet still retained her humor and humanity.  which is probably the only reason i told her the story.

she listened, as i explained my regimen, and how i'd obsessively jerked off repeatedly those last few days, tryin to shoot all the bad stuff outta me, and how it got progressively lighter and lighter, until, just that morning, i had delivered a load that finally looked normal.

she seemed interested but dubious, took a swab, disappeared for a few minutes, and came back and told me with some surprise that, while white blood cells showed up under the microscope, indicating a reaction to infection, there was no infection to be found. to make sure, she had me piss in a cup for lab analysis and gave me the shot anyway, told me to call back for the results in a couple weeks.

which i did.  the results:  negative for any STD.

fuck gut-destroying antibiotics and drug-resistant superbugs--using natural methods, i cured my own serious bacterial infection, bitches.

and i'm betting you can, too, should such an eventuality ever present itself. which is the point of this post.

get you some of this stuff, ok?

and yeah, i'll be dosing myself with same before and after all future encounters with all present and future rubens, you can damn well be sure.

the master cleanser made (more or less) easy

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[disclaimers:

1. this is a by-request post, so if you're (a) not looking for health and beauty tips, or (b) not looking for health and beauty tips from a falling-down drunk, then skip this one and come back tomorrow or the next day or the day after that; i promise we'll be back to our regularly-scheduled crap by then.

2. if you have medical issues and follow this advice without talking to your doctor first and then on the third day drop dead of hypoglycemic shock or some such shit, please do me the courtesy beforehand of clearing your browser history so that your grief-stricken relatives (and their attorneys) will be unable to figure out where you came up with this hare-brained idea in the first place.]



for those of you who have read this far and are unfamiliar with the master cleanser, it is essentially a lemonade fast that was originated back in the late 1940's by a guy named stanley burroughs; its stated purpose was to free up all the energy the body normally needs for the digestion of food for a short time in order to cleanse various organs and the digestive tract, flush out built-up toxins, eliminate food cravings, regulate weight and generally rejuvenate the system.

that's about all the background i'm gonna go into here--fasts of various kinds have been undertaken by mankind for thousands of years, and millions of words have been written on this particular fast (you can find it all over the web--just google "master cleanser" or "master cleanse"); suffice it to say that, while it's been around forever and legions of people swear by its benefits, it's most recently gained notoriety as a way for celebrities like jared leto and beyonce to drop weight fast. as a result, it's become a bit of a fad, and its basic elements have been lost in translation.

for this reason, most ordinary people who try it not only fail, but fail miserably.

fuck that--actually, there are four reasons most people who do this fast the conventional way fail: (1) it's a pain in the ass; (2) they take shortcuts and end up getting sick; (3) their motivation fails 'em; and/or (4) people today are goddam pussies.

and the first time i did it (long before jared leto and beyonce), i almost failed at it as well. then i threw out most everything i'd heard and read about the master cleanse, modified the original instructions to make it workable in the real world and went on to use it successfully many times--once for 32 days straight.

how does my method differ from the original, you ask? well, let's count the ways:

1. the book says you must mix each serving as needed.

this is total bullshit--who the fuck has time to stop what they're doing six times a goddam day, squeeze lemons and measure various ingredients into a little glass? the answer: nobody but oprah (and that's only because she has five people to do it for her). which is why most people end up putting it off until they're so hungry they finally end up saying fuck it and go get a big mac.

the only way to do this fast (unless you're oprah) is to mix up a day's worth first thing in the morning, throw it in a big thermos or a couple jugs, carry it around with you and sip it all day.

the recipe:

two quarts (distilled or reverse-osmosis-purified) water
3/4 cup fresh-squeezed lemon juice
3/4 cup grade b maple syrup
as much cayenne pepper as you can stand

four things: (a) if you wanna do this right, buy an electric citrus juicer--they're cheap; (b) get your maple syrup (grade b only) at whole foods, but for god's sake don't buy your lemons there--get those in bulk at your regular market; (c) if you find yourself getting hungry during the day, increase the lemon juice and maple syrup to 1 cup each; and (d) make sure to increase your cayenne pepper as your tolerance allows--if you're gonna do this, don't be a goddam pussy.

2. the book says you must drink the lemonade warm.

yeah, gag me. drink it on the rocks, folks--trust me, it's much more palatable that way (and it's pretty good with vodka too, but that variation is only for my graduate students, sorry).

3. the book says you must do a salt-water flush each morning of the fast.

great idea, stanley--but again, only if you're oprah and have five people to poop for you every day.

this is the second-biggest reason people quit this fast--they don't take the time and trouble the book tells 'em is necessary to eliminate every day, they start feeling sick, and they quit.

here's the deal: anytime you stop eating, you stop pooping--it's elementary. problem is, if you're fasting, it's essential that you eliminate daily; otherwise all the toxins your body is attempting to expel will simply sit there in the digestive tract and be re-absorbed, thus making you sick (as one who's been there, trust me on this one).

but burroughs' solution--the saltwater flush--takes lots of time every morning, and most people will not take the time to do it. and then they'll get sick. and thus, they'll fail.

my solution? get you some psyllium husk at whole foods and take it three times a day with water. this stuff swells up when it gets wet, provides bulk and sweeps through your intestines and out the back door, along with all the toxins. psyllium can provide explosive results if you take too much, so start with half a tablespoon per dose and work your way up (turns out i needed three full tablespoons daily, but you may need even more) until you achieve at least one good poop per day.

[if you go this route, (a) it is essential that, in addition to the lemonade, you drink tons of water throughout the day; and (b) you should still do the saltwater flush on your days off.]

4. the book doesn't tell you what to do when, about halfway through day two, you flip on the tv only to be assaulted by a goddam pizza hut commercial.

or when your family settles down to a hearty dinner without you, or when that fat-ass cunt in the next cubicle tears into her mid-morning bag of doritos, or--well, you get the picture.

when this happens--if you've done what i've told you, anyway--physical hunger won't be the problem, because the lemonade will have taken care of that. what you will discover is how psychologically addicted you are to even the mere idea of food.

and this is the third reason most people fail at this fast.

and all i can tell you is, when this happens (and it will--over and over again), dig deep inside and remind yourself why you embarked upon this course in the first place--in other words, do counter-brainwashing, and do it often.

and if this fails (and only if this fails, because what follows is nothing but a goddam crutch), then there's always

5. the secret weapon the book didn't tell you about.

and i can't fault stanley for not telling you about this--hell, this is something i just discovered myself (and it sure as hell wasn't around when i first did this fast):

get you some hoodia gordonii.

and yeah, this shit works--but not just any hoodia, because most of what's out there is snake-oil crap which contains very little, if any, of the actual ingredient. for the real thing, go to desertburn.com and order either their 750 mg caps or (a much better value) their 1000 mg tabs.

and yeah, it's expensive. but trust me--you take 3000-4500 mgs of this shit every day, (a) you won't even think about food most of the time; and (b) you'll more than make up for the cost every month in junk-food savings alone.

had i hoodia back then, the master cleanse would've been much more of a cakewalk than it actually was.

so anyway, there you have it--the guttermorality way to master-cleansing nirvana. hope it helps (and if it does, please lemme know, ok?).

the guttermorality way to health & beauty

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people are constantly asking me, "mkf, how do you manage to keep your eyes so bright and clear and your skin so soft and supple while maintaining that vibrant glow of youth?"

[ok, that's a lie--the actual question would probably be something more like, "mkf, how do you manage to polish off most of a fifth of vodka, stagger off to bed and make it in to work six hours later with virtually no outward sign of a hangover?"

tomayto, tomahto--either way, the answer's the same.]

several years ago i did a cleanse (yes, virginia, i sometimes engage in non-self-destructive pasttimes) which, among its many unnatural, agonizing and complicated rituals, featured one little routine that was almost a deal-breaker from the get-go, seeing as how it involved my getting up-close and personal with something i fear and loathe above almost all things: namely, cold water.

before we go forward, lemme talk a minute about my cold-water phobia: i spent eleven years in close proximity to one of the greatest natural-spring pools in the world--an oasis which draws people from miles around--and never even so much as put a toe in it. i didn't care how hot it gets in austin in the summertime and how orgasmic peoples' descriptions of barton springs pool tended to be, i'd sweat and swelter all goddam day before i'd jump into 68-degree water (and often did).

and even though i've lived in los angeles for years and have gone to the beach many times, i've never gone anywhere near the actual ocean (of course, that may have as much to do with my aversion to raw sewage as it does my aversion to cold water, but even if santa monica bay was clean as a whistle, it'd be a cold day in hell before you'd ever find my lily-white, goose-pimply ass in there freezing to death).

because, see, i've always been one of those pussies who, rather than taking the plunge and getting it over with, would ease himself slowly, torturously and with great drama into a swimming pool inch by inch, moaning and bitching about how cold it is the whole way--you know, one of those old ladies everybody jeers at and calls names.

and if the hot water went out at home? i'd happily go out into the world looking and smelling like a cheap, greasy whore at the tail-end of three-day fuckfest before i'd even think of allowing cold water to touch my body.

so, knowing all this, imagine my dismay when i got home from the post office with my brand-new cleanse, and--impatient to start my new, healthy lifestyle--ripped into the package, only to realize that a cornerstone of this goddam thing i've opened and now can't return is something called the "hot-&-cold shower." hot-&-cold shower, my ass--my howl of outrage was no doubt heard from one end of my little canyon to the other.

but you know what? they said it was important, they went to great lengths to explain why, and i wasn't about to blow three hundred bucks--so i nutted up and did it. every goddam day for a month.

and you know what else? long after every other element of that dumbass cleanse has been forgotten, the hot-&-cold shower not only remains a part of my daily regimen, it's the single quickest, most restorative thing i know of to reliably take one from feeling like shit to feeling like a million bucks in no time--if you're willing to pay the price.

here's the drill:

1. start with either hot or cold water (i'll let you guess which i start with); if hot, get it as hot as you can stand it--i mean, so hot that you can't stay in one spot for more than a second or two without burning yourself. endure this for 30-45 seconds, while allowing the water to hit every part of your body.
2. then, turn the knob (quickly and with resolve) to the other extreme, and endure that for 30-45 seconds, following the same procedure.
3. repeat the cycle 5-7 times, and you're done--easy as pie, right?

and since the instructions for the hot-&-cold shower (because you can find this all over the internet if you look for it) never tell you how you're gonna feel as the shower progresses, allow me to do so:

the first time that cold water hits you, i won't lie--it's a shock, and the longest 30 seconds you'll ever live. the second time, however, isn't quite so bad--and by the third time, it's starting to feel pretty damn good.

by the time you've gone through five full cycles, trust me: you'll feel like a new person--you will get outta that shower radiating heat, energy and power, and you won't feel the least bit cold.

why is this, you ask? it's simple: when the hot water hits your skin, your arteries, veins and capillaries expand; and when the cold water hits, they contract--with repetition, this sets up a bellows effect within your body that pumps blood with great energy into places you didn't even know you had. bottom line, it's probably the best thing you could possibly do for the health of your circulatory system*.

and the short-term results are kind of amazing, too--for me, it's a hangover cure and general restorative; for my friend fritz the serious runner, it's eliminated the shin-splints that have plagued him since his teens--he calls it his secret weapon and has told none of his fellow runners about it. for my other friends and family--well, i wish i could tell you how it's changed their lives, but i can't.

because, no matter how much i hype it, i can't get anybody else to step far enough outta their narrow little comfort zones to try it even once.

pussies.

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*unless, of course, for you this turns out not to be the case and you drop dead in the shower (and your relatives then sue me). please, check with your doctor before starting this or any other health regimen.