Blank and Famous

2015-01-26T11:37:00.001-08:00

2014-10-30T20:59:00.001-07:00

32 states now have #MarriageEquality. Let's make it 50... http://t.co/ubsI8lVp4b pic.twitter.com/KeactRKKnx
— Royal Standard (@RoyalStandardG) October 31, 2014

Royal Standard's Xmas Special

2013-12-10T16:54:00.000-08:00

All Natural Shave Gel

2013-11-23T19:38:00.006-08:00

Royal Standard Goods & Co.

2013-11-16T21:10:00.003-08:00

www.RoyalStandardGoods.com

2013-06-26T18:53:00.001-07:00

straight girls guide to sleeping with chicks

2013-06-11T16:14:00.001-07:00

SECRETS TO GETTING TO WHAT YOU WANT!

Bad Move

2011-05-30T19:35:00.000-07:00

Soon after there was a huge fight in the house between Shavaun and Isaac, over Shavaun falling, and Isaac… I don’t know, assisting the fall, not assisting the getting up… what have you. Either way, she over reacted and screamed at Isaac, threw a drink on him… shit got weird. Because of all the commotion of the first real battle in the house all the cameras on staff were focused on that event. I was in the bathroom pissing. Kelly Anne follows me into my stall and proceeds to start kissing me again. I pull her away by the shoulders, look her in the eyes and say,

“We can’t do this anymore. It’s not that I don’t think you’re hot… I just can’t cheat on my girlfriend.”

She responds with,

“I just want a boy, and I don’t have a boy here…”

I try to reason by telling her,

“Why don’t you just hook up with Cohutta, I’m pretty sure he likes you.”

To which she replies,

“I don’t want Cohutta!”

Now unbeknownst to me, Kelly had already hooked up with Cohutta, and came back to me after I thought I had made it clear that I wanted nothing to do with what we had going on in a more than “just friends” way. This is the moment that I’ve experienced countless more times… and never seem to get in my thick head to stop doing it. Gentlemen, whenever you tell a girl that goes out of her way and puts herself on the line to let you know that she’s all about it, and wants to hook up, which is totally out of the established cultural norms of courtship for the American female. When you put her in this, “I’m flattered but I’m not interested” bracket, they smile, and say “It’s okay, I understand”…

A twig inside their head snaps in that moment… They fucking go insane toward you. They now hate you. They despise you. They want you fucking dead. The molecules inside their molecules want to skewer your soul. You’ve humiliated them. You’ve made them feel that they are sexually unattractive. That they are not worthy, and that whoever the in the hell you’re fucking is better than them. This brings to surface every fiber of insecurity and jealousy they’ve ever possessed in their being. You my friend are now… FUCKED. I was fucked. From this day forward, Kelly Anne, was kind of a bitch to me, and there wasn’t that much I could do about it. I mean the only thing I had was she didn’t want Cohutta to know the extent of our relations, but she knew what trumped that (and by a lot) was I didn’t want my girlfriend to know what had transpired between us. Needless to say, she had my balls and she was squeezing. I don’t care who you are, no one that hasn’t been through the same situation, (and I don’t think anyone has, unless the exact same situation happened in a parallel universe) knows what it’s like for someone that’s as prideful as I am to take shit from someone he has such little genuine respect for… and can’t say anything about it. You can’t react. You have to fucking get shit on, on a daily basis and treated like an asshole, and you can’t stand up for yourself. You can’t make a counter argument, because she’s dangling the “I know something your girlfriend might want to know card” above your head. And she brought it up too… every time it got heated between us. God it sucked.

“Well,” I said to myself, “I’ll never make that mistake again.”

First Offense

2011-05-17T15:01:00.000-07:00

A few days pass and we’re finally getting settled in. Isaac, Cohutta, and I decide to out the neighborhood, as we still have no which part of Sydney we’re living in. During this walk we meet a sexy Irish girl… that’s right, a sexy Irish girl… I didn’t know they existed either until this moment. Isaac, exchanged numbers with girl, whose name was Norin. She told us about a good bar to go to and that’s where she and all her friends were going that night. So that night all of us went out to the Bondi Hotel. I know it seems weird, but a lot of bars are called hotels in Australia. Apparently during the Victorian age you drank at whatever boarding house you stayed in. The bars are still around today, even if you can’t stay in them anymore. So we’re at the Bondi hotel. Everyone is having a good time. Isaac’s meeting up with his Norin chick. I’m working the room the best I can, trying to be a good wing man for Isaac and Cohutta. Out of nowhere fights start popping off left and right. I don’t know if its surf tribes. I don’t know if we’re involved. I know that the bar was uneasy about us being there to begin with. You see, Americans were not well received during the age of Bush. And to top it off, we represent the most brash and arrogant of Americans. Whether we were or not, it’s how we were perceived. After several fights occur, the bar does the whole: “That’s it, everybody’s got to go!” thing. Lights start coming on, the crew is scrambling. They didn’t expect it, we didn’t expect it. Me and my other six roommates are spread out all over the place. In all this chaos Kelly Anne finds me and pulls me, quite aggressively, into a bathroom and starts kissing me, also quite aggressively. I’m not gonna lie… It was hot. It was one of those situations where you knew you wanted it to happen, it definitely should not happen, and it’s probably going to happen again. It was the opening of my personal Pandora’s Box. Every bad situation that I encountered in Sydney was a derivative of this moment. Fuck that moment. I was actually doing really well, I mean I was flirting around, but nothing was happening. Cock sucker! This was the first time I cheated on my girlfriend Julie. My first offense, if you would. We get back to the house, and on this night… we share a bed. Though it seems it was, I swear was not preplanned the way we start exclaiming to the air: “We’ll put a pillow between us and spoon just because we miss the act of spooning.” “Yes that’s perfectly innocent, platonic friend.” Trust me when I say there was nothing platonic about our intentions, and that pillow didn’t do much to defend against our naughty hands. Naughty indeed, Kelly Anne, the fucking mouth on this broad… She would say, and I had no idea it would turn me on so much, some dirty, dirty stuff. [Side Note: girls, by the way, when a boy is cheating on his girlfriend, even when he’s drunk, and lonely, and in bed with a hot girl… the last thing he wants to hear about, is his girlfriend. It’s not just Kelly Anne, several girls I cheated on my girlfriend with would say things like, “You should break up with your girlfriend.” while twirling my dick around with their fingers. That makes me think of my girlfriend, and what a scumbag I’m being… I really have to power through this just to stay hard, trust me I’m not that big of an asshole, though an asshole.] Where was I, speaking of twirling my dick around, Kelly Anne is jerking me off, I’m finger banging the shit out of her, and we’re making out under the sheets. This is tricky to say the least. Someone could write a book on the degree of difficulty involved in hooking up someone in a reality television house and not getting caught. So we’re mugging out, I’m working the G-spot, she’s jacking me off, and the whole time saying: “I can’t wait to fuck you!”, “You’re gonna leave your girlfriend after you have me.”, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera. One thing I’ll never forget, is how utterly disappointed I was with Kelly Anne’s breast. I know she’s had at least three augmentations to this date, maybe more, I don’t know I started writing this in 2009. I’m sure the new tits look great, but when we lived together, no sir. I don’t know what NASA scientist developed her push up bra, but during the day this chick looks like she’s rocking some well rounded C’s… takes the bra off and they disappear into a couple of giant nipples. I don’t think I ever really appreciated the messing around while spooning approach until I did this show. It’s great because you can just act like you’re holding her stomach, even with a camera on you, and slowly inch down until you’re knuckle deep in clit heaven. Same with the girl, she’s in a bit more of a precarious position, but she can lovingly tug on your ding dong and because of the position of your bodies, there’s no lifted blankets to give away your activities. Another good thing is it shows we’re obviously not kissing. Most people, when they’re in the throes of passion, are enthusiastically making out with one another. If you’re just lying, face to the back of a girl’s head, smiling ear to ear, who’s to say that you’re not just dreaming about playing with a puppy. It is however, in this position, that all of the controversy around Miss Anne and I arose. You see, I was smiling ear to ear, but because she was jacking me off from behind, and rubbing the head of my dick against the lips of her vaggy vag. Now, I’m horny as hell, intoxicated, and I’m frigging her pussy like a DJ working a turn table. While jerking me off, she grabs my extended pinky and slowly pushes it in her ass. This was fucking sexy; it shows a lot about where the sexual possibilities between the two of us can go from here. And believe you me, I liked what I saw. We’ve been at it for awhile, and I start to sober up. I find that when you’re doing something you know you shouldn’t be, the more sober you become, the less appealing the activity is. Call it moral compass, call it conscious. Call it whatever the fuck you want, but I knew I was in the wrong. I knew this wasn’t worth it. Kelly Anne wasn’t worth my girlfriend. Soon after this, the rubbing my head against her vag, turns into slowly inserting my dick. I’ve never wanted something, and not wanted something so bad. It’s not that I wasn’t horny. It’s not that I didn’t want to fuck this broad. I really, genuinely felt bad. This is the first time I’m cheating on my girlfriend, who until now, I was under the impression I was going to marry, without ever cheating on her, and live happily ever after. I slowly push away from her and begin the cooling down process. That night I told Kelly Anne we can’t do anything ever again. And she seemed cool with it. Man, I was stupid to believe that was possible.

Nice to Meet You...

2011-05-14T13:25:00.000-07:00

Finally we get to the house. Finally I get to take my bag off my sun-burnt shoulder for the first time in half a day. The experience itself was entirely anti-climatic. It wasn’t the grand entrance you would expect it to be. Just a bunch of lucky kids lingering around nervously trying to pretend there’s not a camera in your face. It’s a bit uncomfortable at first. The first people I encountered, Cohutta and Kelly Anne, were in the kitchen. Cohutta introduced himself with a hand shake and said, “Nice to meet you, my name’s Cohutta.” The accent blew me away, and as fast as he says his name you don’t fully understand it til about the ninth or tenth time you hear it. Kelly Anne hopped off the counter and looked up at me through her banes. I had never enjoyed the look of banes on a girl until this moment. She could pull it off. It was kind of hot… Scratch that, it was very hot. In fact, I was blown away by how initially attracted I was to this female. She just had this sex appeal; it’s hard put your finger on it really. It doesn’t necessarily mean you think she was the definition of perfect beauty, although, off the bat I thought she was hot. It means if we were left in the same room for a lengthy amount of time… we were going to make a baby.

Our first night out, we eat a great dinner together. We have drinks. We go to what I think is soon to be one of many bars I will visit on a nightly basis. I get really nice and drunk, too drunk for my own good. Upon leaving the bar, Kelly Anne grabs me by the shirt to tell me we’re leaving and we don’t leave each other’s side for the rest of the night. We walk back to the house occasionally allowing one another’s hands to graze the others. We get to know each other a little more in a rather overtly flirtatious manner.

Walking back, everyone’s all hyped up about getting in this sixteen person hot tub we have when we get back to the house. I remember being the only guy against it. We get back, people do the whole post night on the town snack, continuing the BS get to know you chat, and Kelly and I emerge as the only two clad in swim wear. Typical. We get in, and I think we’re the only two that get in, at least we’re the only two that are in there for more than five minutes if anyone else did. Bear in mind that we were tipsy, but she proceeds to lay it all out on the line to me. I’ve only known this girl for twelve hours, and she says quote, “It’s a big mistake you have girlfriend when you live with three hot girls.” “Four”, I reply, even though I know she intentionally left Parisa off the roster. Maybe, but it’s a bit different. Not only do I have a girl friend that I lived with back home at the time and was very much in love with. But my girlfriend has the video footage and audio of everything I do over here. Now that’s a lot of stress for a horny 22 year old male to deal with, especially one that is surrounded by as many promiscuous girls as I apparently was. Though we walked shoulder to shoulder out of the hot tub to the kitchen and bedrooms, I do believe we slept in our separate beds that evening.

TO BE CONTINUED...

A NEW WORLD

2011-04-12T23:49:00.000-07:00

So there I was… I still vividly remember the Australian P.A. saying I could stay in the van. But no, the plump little first time director had to have it her way, or no way at all. I instantly did not like this first director I met. I had know how idea at the time how much of a living Hell this person could make my life, but over the next four months she did her best to educate me on the matter. She forced me from an air conditioned van and perched me on top of a cliff overlooking Bondi Beach, one the most iconic beaches in the world. I was at the top of a stone staircase that followed the curvature of the coving beach a hundred feet or so down to the board walk below.

For two fucking hours I sat at the top of this staircase, starring at the, just yards behind me, air conditioned van. I’m wearing Jeans and thick red polo shirt in the 90 something, oh I forget, 30 something degree Celsius heat outside. After hours of my pale Scottish skin frying in the ridiculous hot and powerful Australian sun, I don’t know what I’m more pissed about, the fact that I’m literally drenched in sweat or the awesome farmer’s tan tattoo I’ve been forced into receiving. I look back and see the same Aussie P.A., still enjoying the climate controlled van. He rolls down his window, just enough to be heard as to not let any of the air conditioning escape. Wouldn’t won’t to do that now… jackass. Actually, he’s a nice guy; it’s the bitch of a director’s fault I’m out here. He tells me that he’s just heard on his Walky that I can go down to stairs now. Australians love to put a “Y” sound on the end of every noun… like it’s the only possible fucking way to communicate here. Okay, we get it… you’re country is cooler than ours.

With my heavy bag, I begin walking down the hundred foot staircase to the board walk. I get to the very bottom, only to find that bitch of a director. She looks me square in the eye and in her half ditzy, half pretentious voice (or what I call Los Angeles Speak) tells me they were just making sure they had the right camera angle, and that I had to walk back up the stairs to the top and wait to come back down again. I think the bitch derived some pleasure from giving me this news. Awesome. So, with my heavy bag, I walk back all the way up the hundred or so stairs to the top. Once I was at the top, I got the “real call” so I descended the cliff again.

Now I’m soaked in sweat, obviously burnt, trying to be as pleasant as I could possibly be. After all, it is my first day on the job. At the bottom, I’m signaled over to introduce myself to a Middle Eastern looking young woman, Parisa. At least I’m not going to want to sleep with this one, I remember thinking to myself. I carry my bag, and now hers as well, after all I am a gentleman, up the board walk to hail a cab. We go through the initial bull shit pleasantries. I could tell right away that Parisa was most likely the intellectual of pack of females I was being thrown into. She was well spoken, well read, and we seemed to share a common political ideology. Good, I thought to myself, I’ll have no problems with this one.

“So, where you from?” I asked.

“New York, I went to NYU. I just graduated. You?”

“South Mississippi. I went to Ole Miss.”

“Where?”

“Everyone always says that… where Eli Manning went.”

“Oh, ok… I’ve heard of that.”

No she didn’t, she was quick to pretend she knew anything about the culture I considered home outside of the stereotypes Yankees place on Southerners. Confusing the adjective “Southern” with “Country”, which is then further misconstrued with “Racist”, “NASCAR”, and “G.W. Bush”, who is Texan by the way, and Texans are not Southern (as much as they want to be). Texas is Texas; it is its own world all together. Digressing…

“So where did you wait all day?” she asked.

“At the top of that staircase I came down when I saw you.”

“That sucks, it’s so hot here,” she replied, “I was just in this van all afternoon.”

“You don’t say,” I said with a crooked smile, trying to swallow my appertaining rage. “Well, I’m just glad to finally get this party started... and maybe some aloe.”

A Bird in the Hand

2011-04-06T09:00:00.000-07:00

“I bet I can get you off in less than two minutes”, she says with a smile.

To which I reply, “Really, I don’t know, you’d have to be pretty good at what you’re doing.”

“No”, she says, “two minutes, tops!”

I’m standing beside the indoor pool in the beach house the promotional company put us up in during spring break. The house is an impressive six bedroom 5,000 square foot home that has been dubbed the “MTV Mansion”, because of the entertainers and host that stay here throughout the more than six weeks of spring break every year. There are four girls that came home with me from the event I hosted prior to this late night party. I had made out with all four of them at different times at the bar earlier, and I couldn’t decide which one was the pick of the litter just yet, so I invited all of them back to the MTV mansion. Besides me, there are at least four other guys who stay here who work for the promotional company and organize all of the spring break contest and events. Of the four girls, there is one in particular, Megan, who seems to be most enjoying the spring break experience. We were home for all of five minutes before this girl strips nude and jumps in the pool double fisting bottles of beer. She’s gathered the attention of all the other guys in the house, but I’m talking to another girl, a tall blonde named Ashley, at least I think her name is Ashley. She grabs me by the hand and pulls me towards the back side of the pool where the master bedroom is. It opens up through French doors onto the pool. Just as we enter and I turn to draw the curtains, I hear her friends yell out.

“NA AH AH DUNBAR! If you touch her, you can’t touch us.”

The word “us”, and the possibilities associated with it, ring through my mind. Now usually, I adhere to the expression, “a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush”… but usually those two birds in the bush aren’t half naked 18-year-old girls from Indiana on spring break in Panama City. I pause; look at the blonde girl I think is named Ashley, and say, alas my dear, another time perhaps. At least that’s the way I remember it, in all probability I just dropped her hand, walked back out to the pool and grabbed the other two girls. Holding one by the left hand and one by the right hand, I lead them back through the beach house to my bedroom. Small victory. That’s what I’ve come to realize my life by, small victories, small failures, small any things. People think that only big things impact their life. A good friend once told me, it’s the little things in life that make you want to kill yourself. I’ve always gotten a lot out of that statement. Yes, big things change your life, but it’s the little things that make your life. The best part is little things aren’t that hard to change. All it takes is a little work here and there to change the shape of your entire life. I close the door to the bedroom. As I lock it, I turn back towards the bed. Jen and…. fuck, I can’t remember her name either… her friend, have already taken their tops off and are both kneeling on the bed. Jen, who is rather comfortable with getting to the point, says,

“Well I just want to blow you, but if you really want to beast me you can”…

The other girl jumps in and says,

“Well I want to blow him and beast him, so maybe we can just take turns.”

I’ve come to understand after hanging out with girls from Indiana for the last several days, that the term “beast” is slang for sexual intercourse. To each his own I guess, I prefer: Fuck.

I join the two girls in a subtle embrace, me standing them kneeling on the bed. I’m positioned perfectly between the two girl’s breasts. You know in yoga, when they tell you to find your center, and discover your happy place? Well, this is my happy place. I kiss them both, and run my fingers through their hair. Just as Jen has finished sliding off my board shorts and the waist band hits my ankles, there’s a beating on the door. Damnation! Someone will die for this intrusion, I think to myself. I try to ignore the fact that someone is pounding on my bedroom door, and continue to kiss Jen and blah blah blah. My thumbs slide down their backs to their bikini bottoms. Once more, a pound, pound, pound on my door, this time it’s accompanied by screams and a whimper. After trying to ignore this for a minute, eventually Blah blah blah’s conscience gets the best of her, and she complains.

“It’s Megan”, she says, “We have to see what’s wrong with her.”

“Awesome”, I say out loud.

She goes to the door and opens it, to find her friend Megan, who was completely naked, skinny dipping, running around the house, and dancing to the latest Britney Spears single just minutes before. This same skank, is now fully clothed, soaking wet, half screaming, and half crying about how all of her girlfriends abandoned her with a bunch of perverts who tried to feel her up. Just a bunch of psycho babble really.

I actually do feel bad for the girl, but this isn’t my house, and I don’t know the guys that live here all that well. So I’m upsetting a lot of people, allowing this psycho whore to go on the way she is. I asked her to calm down. I assured her that all of her friends are accounted for and ok, if not very satisfied by now. She says she’s called their parents, as apparently some parents came on the trip with them (bummer), and that the parents are going to call the police if they’re not back at the condo in thirty minutes. Whether this is true or not true, and I’m personally leaning on not true, it scares my two ladies into putting their tops back on and going back to the pool for the rest of their clothes.

“Fuck”, I say to myself, “unbelievable”.

In the mean time this Megan chick is screaming and ranting and raving, running through the beach house. She’s going into every bedroom, which usually consist of one guy and one girl doing… well, not exactly playing connect four… unless of course, there’re four people in the room. This is making me look like a jackass, as I just met these guys a couple of days ago, and now one of my girls from the bar, who somebody thought they were going to hook up with, is fucking up everybody else’s good fortune. After pissing everyone off, or at the very least interrupting, this bitch is at the front door continually slamming it. Making a very loud, well, the sound a door makes when you slam it, all for attention. I grab the door, and with a crowd of very angry roommates behind me, and yell back at the piglet.

“What in the Hell is wrong with you? Get your fucking crazy ass out of this house right now!”

I turn to her friends, apologize, and thank them for what was otherwise a lovely evening. As I close the door I reflect over that old adage, “A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush”… That’s good expression; you should probably take note of it.