Fetish


I was flipping through BUST magazine last month when I came across a story about a Portland-based phone sex operator who makes all sorts of cash talking about food fetishes. Impressed and intrigued, the first thing that came to my mind was my all-time favorite South Park episode where Stan’s dad gets caught jerking off while watching the Food Network late at night. After his wife blocks the channel, he starts calling the Food Network hotline and talks to a sultry-voiced woman about deglazing and how moist the pan roasted chicken is. So when I heard about Tonya Jone Miller, I was beyond thrilled to think that conversations like this really happen in the non-animated world, and that a real live woman might be getting rich bringing foodie fantasies to life.
To my disappointment, Tonya tells me that the food fetish thing isn’t super-common but was a fun angle for the story, which appeared in BUST’s food issue. She is, however, a successful, full-time indie phone sex operator with plenty to say about her business.
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This week I stopped by Tiny Tuesday at Lucky Devil Lounge (633 SE Powell). The ad boasted that all dancers would stand under five feet, there’s a three and half foot tall host, mini bottle service, a free drink for any customer under five feet, and “customers under 4 feet drink free all night!”

I was surprised by the amount of male customers taking advantage of the free drinks thing. When a friend asked what it had been like, I said that there were kind of a lot of little people in attendance, “Well, there were three dudes at one table…”

“Was it Mini Kiss? Are they in town?”

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It’s tax season! That makes me think of a story I found out about a few weeks ago involving a Domina and a silly man with a government job.

A tax collector from Secaucus, NJ named Alan Bartolozzi wired (maybe more than) $780,000 in taxpayer money to a Domina with addresses in 5 states. He wired money internationally too, but there isn’t any info out there on where… I imagine somewhere sunny. She featured the guy on her website, but it’s down. I am assuming he’s dressed up in sissy clothes or bent over with objects inside him based on my own experience with government workers, but I could be wrong.

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Nothing To Sneeze At

by Kat on March 1, 2011 · 1 comment

in Fetish, Money, Porn

From what I can tell, a sneeze fetish is more about the journey than the destination. While you may consider face covering an action that stops the spreading of germs, to a fetishist you’re hiding all the subtle intricacies of pre-sneeze face. I don’t completely relate, but I do enjoy a good sneeze as much as the next person. Or rather, I get filled with rage when I’m about to sneeze and some jerkoff thinks it’s funny to yell “bananas!” and sabotage me. (I imagine that’s the closest I’ll ever come to understanding the phenomenon that is “blue balls.”)

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“I’m a…crab!” The girl who is always drunk was dying at her own joke.

“Well I’m half-person half-horse!” Ah, dressing room astrology-talk.

“You’re a centaur.”

“What the fuck is a sen tar?” It seemed like she couldn’t decide if it was rude of me to call her a sen tar.

“A mythical horse man thingy. I’m pretty sure it’s the same as a Sagittarius.” It sounded weird coming out of my mouth. Yeah, what the fuck is a centaur? Am I thinking of a satyr?

“A CENTAUR! You never watch Xena?! Shiiit.” Well, at least someone knew what a centaur was.

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