Johnny Bravo and the Guttergirl

“You can turn off the charm. I’m immune”
Pussy Galore in Goldfinger

Give it to me and give it to me good. Ask Mz. Conduct anything you dare and then some at: guttergrl69.hotmail.com or call her now and hear her sultry swallow box at: www.keen.com/MzConduct !

My bumper sticker hits the nail on the head “Falling in love is hard on the knees.” Why is it that man-boys either want to tame me, hoard me, think of me as a challenge, or have babies? Oil me up and call me Olive, toss me in a dry martini and swill, baby, swill... And when I’m in the midst of an obvious hallelujah humpin’, some boys are compelled to shush me. There’s nothing that gets on my last nerve more (as the Royal Diva always announces). Well, maybe, but I haven’t thought of it yet. Ball gags and cute fags, can’t they all just shut up and love me?

It was the Boytoy Bitch’s birthday, so I seduced and reduced him to a sniveling, begging boot licker; his birthday dream come true . Hey, when a wicked wench dresses up in vinyl from head to toe on a sweltering hot day, it means she freakin’ cares, honey! We then drove off to the Nipple and Nuts Nudie beach where I flaunted my smooth and savory self under the heat of the afternoon sun, all my metal glistening in the solar rays.

I entered the Blue Sky Boy in a tightie-whities contest. It’s an underwear contest judged by the public and we hope to win a fab jaunt to Vegas. He posed all beautiful and hairless, holding a chainsaw, wearing just the snug tightie-whities, and safety goggles. Yumm. I don’t know about winning the contest, but when I look at him in all his glory, he sure does win my heart. Or something that throbs anyway. Viva la beefcake boys and Viva Las Vegas! Wait, what’s that I hear? Could those be the rotted bones of Elvis singin’ to me now?

My sweet, little auntie sent me some loot to pay some bills, bless her ancient heart. But instead of sending the phone mafia money, I decided to make myself a happy hoyden. Off I trotted to finally buy myself that double-headed dildo I’ve been hankering for. I figure, if I get run over by a beer truck tomorrow, I’ll be much more thrilled by having experienced that silicone slice of heaven than knowing my stinkin’ phone bill is paid. The Transient Trollop promises to read that at my eulogy if need be.

So, my horoscope read, the day I decided to try out the double-headed dildo:

“You are probably going to have the urge to show off your abilities to a
loved one today, dear Aries. Perhaps you are in the mood to impress
them with a bizarre talent of yours that no one else knows about. Feel
free to demonstrate your self worth to the people around you. There is
no need to hide from the gifts that you have. Other people are apt to find
your antics quite witty and entertaining.”

I’d say that sums it up quite nicely and may I just say that I worship and adore my new toy. Like they say, two heads are better than one!

I’m crying big crocodile tears, having to say farewell to the amazingly gorgeous, Yum Yum Boy, as he flies his jewelry-clad face off to Australia for an indefinite period of time. He will go down in Mz. Conduct history for certain, as no one, and I mean no one, has sated the insatiable Mz. C as he has... in so many ways.

Off to the “Slut 101” workshop I go, as we plant, embrace and nourish our inner slutdom. Honey, I’ve planted and embraced it years ago, cultivated it in San Francisco -- post Summer of Love -- and am now smoking like an Argentine call girl. Hey, who knows, I may still learn something. Now Yum Yum boy, get over here with my gin and ciggies, open the curtains and show the world how you make those tattoos dance the tango, baby.


Dear Mz. Conduct,

I went out with a woman twice and said the inevitable ‘I’ll call you’ afterwards, even though I had really no intention of seeing her again. I didn’t call and within two days, she called me. She left a message asking why I didn’t call when I said I would and telling me she would call my workplace next. I must say, this worried me enough to call her back, before she could call me at work. I guess I was trying to be a nice guy and made some excuse about being busy. She promptly invited me to the beach, I politely told her no thank you, I was just too busy.

A few days later, I ran into her at a bar and she latched on to me asking me to play pool with her. We played pool and actually had a decent time, but I am just not attracted to her in any way. Now she is calling again and I don’t know how to tell her how I feel. Is there a ‘nice guy’ way to let her down easy?

Fumbling with Feelings

Dear FwF,

Wind-up weenies at Walmart, yeah there’s a way to get through to some people. It’s your fault for not being a dolt and dishonest with this woman in the first place. Some people have a difficult time paying attention to another’s interest or lack thereof and may require brutal honesty. You open your ‘nice guy’ mouth and tell this indigent, insipid inbred, “Look, I’m not interested in seeing you anymore. I feel no chemistry with you. Please don’t call me again.” If she doesn’t understand this, and obviously she’s not the sharpest tool in the shed, you may have to further your explanation with something like, “If you call me again, then I’ll be forced to write your name and number on each and every bathroom wall, in every single seedy truck stop this side of the border.” That should do it. Learn from this blunder and tell people how you feel. Nothing hurts a person more than to be led on, perhaps hoping for rainbows and champagne and finding out all that’s there is rain and Cold Duck.


My Dear Mz. Conduct,

I went out with a girl and there was obvious chemistry. We met again and she invited me home. I spent the night in her bed and we kissed and groped, but she wouldn’t let me go all the way. I respected that and when I left, she seemed to be interested in getting together again, but then she emailed me saying that she decided she didn’t want to have a relationship with me after all. Should I pursue this and ask her why? I thought we really had a connection and am very bummed out.

Sore Loser

Good God in a gas mask, you are a loser, mister. Okay, so the girl seemed to initially like you. She probably had too many cocktails, or was on the rebound or thought she wanted your man meat at first, but then you spent the night and something went awry. Maybe it’s not your breath, or your lack of smooth moves. It could simply be that what she thought was there between you, just wasn’t. Even I’ve had this happen, or at least I think so. Hell, I don’t remember because it’s either there, or it’s not for me, but I do understand the concept of a lost connection.

Leave it alone. It’s a done deal. Move on down the line and quit analyzing the situation. It wasn’t a six year relationship, it was a one night thang. Yeah it sucks that you didn’t pass Go and you didn’t collect the $200. but you aren’t in jail so count your freakin’ blessings and go mow my damn lawn.

© All rights reserved Kim Alvarez

as printed in SFX magazine