The Strange Case of Polite, Quiet Customer and Master Hyde

Customer: “Pardon me, but do you have any leather vests that button in the front?”

Me: “I’m afraid we don’t.”

Customer: “Oh. It’s just that the vests you do carry don’t seem to fit me very well.”

Me: “I promise it’s not you — it’s just the way bar vests are cut. They don’t close, because they’re designed to accentuate the chest.”

Customer: “Okay, that makes sense. But I don’t want to accentuate my belly. I’m a bit insecure about it.”

Me: “You, my friend, have nothing to worry about. You’re in the right bar for belly appreciation.”

Customer: [laughing] “So I’ve noticed. I’m going to need one of your riding crops to beat them off!”

Me: [also laughing] “Of course, they might enjoy that.”

Customer: [suddenly serious] “You know, I’ve never done this before, but I was in here a couple of nights ago, and there were two younger men fooling around with a riding crop.”

Me: “Yeah, people do play with the merchandise sometimes.”

Customer: “Well, one of them was gently running the crop up and down the other one’s leg. So I marched over to them and said, ‘THAT IS NOT HOW YOU USE THAT. GIVE IT TO ME RIGHT NOW.”

Me: “…”

Customer: “His eyes got really big, and he said, ‘Yes, Sir,’ and handed it over to me. And I took it and SMACKED HIM ACROSS THE ASS and said, ‘THAT’S HOW YOU USE IT.'”

Me: “

Customer: [panting a little] “And then I handed it back to him and left. You should’ve seen the salesclerks’s face! Anyway, I’ve never acted like that before. I wonder where it came from?”

Regardless of where it came from, I am starting to suspect this guy is eventually going to convert his garage into a dungeon and/or murder house. But then, I also watch a lot of Eli Roth movies, so, y’know, I might be a little blinkered.

Radio Killed the Video (Head Cleaner) Star

My friend Robert recently asked me if I’d be willing to co-host a monthly, leather-themed radio show with him on our local Pacifica affiliate. I was flattered, of course, but also a tiny bit doubtful of his judgement, considering some of the things that flew out of my mouth the last time I was on the radio with him:

“Burn some candles, eat some babies, the usual.

“My new drag name is ‘The Sensuality of Athleticism.'”

“Oh, right, that one Misfit who drinks too much and says inappropriate things. I hate that one.”

“You should buy stuff at the ILSb-ICBB vendor mart and then take it to the Dallas Galleria and be like, “I didn’t keep the receipt, but…”

Robert – “We don’t always abuse our community leaders.”

Me – “Yeah. Sometimes it’s a clean kill.”

Despite the above, and the fact that I involuntarily curse like a sailor, we survived our first broadcast without FCC fines or security escorting us out of the building. And because we are all about jumping the gun, we went ahead and set up a Facebook page and a Twitter account (neither of which we’ve gotten around to actually using, but don’t let that stop you from following us). I’ve also added some info and downloads of previous shows (all one of them) here, so that you’ll be able to keep up with our upcoming train wrecks newfound media success.

And really, I do understand that in the grand scheme of things, this whole endeavor is nothing more than two guys volunteering at a listener-sponsored radio station and goofing around to fill air time in the dead of night. But I like to think that in some small way, Robert and I are doing something that just might help our local leather community come together, and maybe even overlook individual differences in favor of solidarity.

Granted, they will be coming together and finding solidarity in never speaking to either one of us ever again after our next show, but hey, we all have to make sacrifices for the greater good. It’s just that some of us have a lot more practice with martyrdom.

Quick, Boy Wonder! To the Oblivious-mobile!

Customer: “Do you sell leather-scented candles? Or a leather incense?”

Me: “We do not.”

Customer: “You don’t? Then where is that amazing leather scent coming from?”

Me: “It’s… it’s from all the leather.”

Customer: [looking around] “Oh, hey, wow! I never noticed that before!”

It is generally accept that when one sense is diminished, the brain rewires itself to draw more receptive information from the remaining senses. In this case, I can only assume that said customer lost his eyesight in a tragic, comic book-style accident, which gifted him with a preternatural sense of smell… and, I don’t know, maybe super strength or something? I wasn’t there. Long story short, he should really just get out there and fight crime.

Going Down

As previously mentioned, GLUE Weekend involves contests: Mr. Third Coast Gear, which is a fun bar title, and Mr. Third Coast Leather, which is a feeder to International Mr. Leather. We put a lot of work into assembling a well-known and well-respected judging panel for MTCL, and for the past two years, we’ve been very lucky to have Dirk Caber — star of numerous educational, adult-oriented, alternative lifestyle features — as one of our judges.

 “I’m dreamy but don’t act like I’m dreamy, which makes me like seventeen times dreamier.”

I don’t know how many porn stars you guys run around with, but Dirk is seriously one of the nicest, most genuine people I’ve ever met. He’s modest and intelligent and has an excellent sense of humor, and he’ll hug you just for the sake of hugging, and I am not in love with him so much as I want to be him when I grow up.

One of the big highlights of GLUE is the Officer’s Luncheon, where everyone straps themselves into their finest formal leather and consumes mass quantities of Southern breakfast foods during a keynote address. Dirk and I happened to leave our hotel rooms at the same time that morning, and we boarded the elevator together to head down to the ballroom off the lobby where the luncheon was being held. It was close to checkout time, so every few seconds we stopped at a different floor. And whenever the doors opened, unsuspecting hotel patrons would start to drag on their luggage, then stop and stare at the two men attempting to act casual while dressed like administrators from the management offices of the Death Star.

The elevator continued its descent, with Dirk and I chatting about the difficulties of lacing boots while wearing skintight pants, and everyone else pretending we weren’t weirding them the fuck out, when one of the other passengers turned to Dirk and asked, “Are you famous?”

Dirk shrugged as I choked on my own spit and admitted that yes, some people would call him famous.

“Are you in movies?” the guy asked.

Dirk replied that he did in fact make movies.

“I knew it!” another guy suddenly shouted. “You looked so familiar, but I couldn’t figure out why.”

The elevator thankfully reached the ground floor before I could finish chewing through my tongue, and at the luncheon, the other guests at our table were greatly entertained when we related the story to them. (We ultimately decided that if it happened again, we would explain that he was a regular on the original British version of The Office.) Amusement aside, though, I can’t help but wonder who the guys on the elevator actually thought Dirk was. I mean, he sort of resembles a young Xander Berkeley (if young Xander Berkeley worked out a lot), but otherwise, I feel like somebody needs to sit these dudes’ wives down and have a long come-to-Jesus.

Sticking to the Script

Every October, the Misfits put on a fundraising event called GLUE Weekend — three differently-sane days of contests, parties, auctions, and generalized debauchery. I usually spend most of GLUE running around like a crazy person and doing my best to minimize assorted gay leather crises, but I always take some time to write down any pause-worthy comments I overhear and then share them without context. With that in mind, it gives me great pleasure to announce the definitive 2017 list of…


“I need to order catsuits tonight.”

“I like him better when his mouth is preoccupied.”

“They’re being mean to my nipples.”

“Do we need to trade that cocktail for a bowl of milk?”

“We’re going to have amazing abs after holding our guts in for three days.”

“He said ‘deep in the throat of Texas,’ and I almost fainted.”

“Have fun fisting or whatever.”

“I know what you mean, but you’re not peeing in my shoe.”

“You need to put a silencer on that tongue.”

“Remember the time security burst into your room at Club Houston?”

“I can’t believe we did it right in front of the bratwurst stand.”

“So we were talking about broken penises…”

“I’m looking at your eyes, but I can still see your legs.”

“Rainbow Bronies! RAINBRONIES!!!”

“My knees are together. I’m off duty.”

“Those are gold… lamé… leather… pants.”

“Heather has commandeered the microphone.”

“Look! I can make my sporran jump!”

“Little queen, I know you jerk off to Buck Angel porn, so swallow my load.”

“It’s analog Scruff.”

“That’s like if your tastes and my tastes got drunk and had a baby.”

“Dude. You have boob sweat.”

“I’m having more fun this year. Probably because I stopped smoking pot and remember it.”

“I grew into my butt hair.”

“We’re all trying to be butch, but then Erasure comes on.”

“If I’m the one holding your hair, there is a problem.”

“Not even with Rick Perry’s dick.”

The Emperor’s New 2XL Pancho

Customer: [in the voice of Alaska Thunderfuck] “Hieeee.”

Me: [gritting teeth, smiling pleasantly] “Hello. What can I help you with today?”

Customer: “What size is that shirt?”

Me: “It’s a medium.”

Customer: “Oh.”

Me: “Would you like to try it on?”

Customer: “No. It’s too small.”

Me: “What size shirt do you normally wear?”

Customer: “Medium.”

Me: “…”

Customer: “I want something that fits loosely.”

Me: “Ah, I see. Well, I only have that particular shirt in medium, but I do have larges in these other styles.”

Customer: “But you only have this shirt in medium?”

Me: “That’s correct.”

Customer: “None larger?”

Me: “None larger.”

Customer: [tapping his lips thoughtfully] “Hmmm.”

Me: “You’re more than welcome to try it on.”

Customer: “No. Then I’d buy it.” [exits]

Good call on his part. I mean, I can’t have my customers spending money on clothing that fits — what would happen to all the downtrodden shoplifters out there who prefer irregulars? I’m pretty sure this guy is some kind of folk saint at the least, and I shall build a shrine in his honor out of nothing but smocks and parachute pants.