by Willam Belli
The easiest way to make any space more welcoming is by getting a plant. They naturally deodorize that staleness of the beer you spilled on the rug that you then just flipped over. Plus, they’re green. Green is good. It inspires money, brings calm (hence greenrooms backstage), and will make you look like a responsible adult if you don’t kill it. An easy way to add levels to your rooms is by hanging a plant from the ceiling near a corner. I’ve had this one unkillable plant called a philodendron for over three years. They’re usually sold in pots with wires twisted into a hook at the top so you can just hang it and go. I have cactuses because they’re the only thing my dog Warner won’t eat.
I’m obsessed with AHS (American Horror Story). Bestiality on primetime. God Bless Ryan Murphy.
My mom always told me to keep an aloe plant by the door in case I ever got burned in the kitchen, but I mainly use the pointy stalks to clean out my pipes and one-hitters. It’s a great porch plant.
29
How to SUCK LESS at
ROOMMATES
Plants are the easy thing. They don’t talk back. People do. One of my housemates inspired me to name my Internet connection Error Connect ’cause they were always downloading shit that made my browsing slower than his share of the rent. These cohabitational issues can be tricky, but so can the people your housemates bring home to fuck. Never leave valuables out. I had a March of Dimes bottle stolen from my kitchen by a one-night stand and was really saddened by it because I also had some quarters in there. I walked in on my first roommate naked on a futon in the living room with some hot dude eating a cup of noodles and didn’t know what to be more upset about: that the hot guy was eating my fucking soup or that their buttholes were all over the communal seating area after they’d fucked. I used to use his electric beard trimmer to shave my balls, though, so everything evened out in the end.
If you’re particular about where anuses should and shouldn’t go, maybe fly solo. Especially don’t live with someone if you’re not OK with the bathroom not being exactly like how you left it. My bathroom ranges in cleanliness from spotless on Fridays when Blanca comes to somewhere around a nice Citgo or Kmart restroom. Seeing the evidence all over the bowl that the struggle was real damn real for someone else is kinda nasty, but whatcha gonna do about it? You can either talk to them about it or use one of their towels to clean it up, depending on how over it you are. I’m a terrible roommate. I’m the kinda bitch who will wake someone up with an empty ice cream carton I pulled from the trash can, yelling “Did you eat my ice cream?” even though I know the answer is yes. Tables being turned, I’m sure I would stand right up for my actions and claim your fat ass didn’t need it. Either way, I will wear a red dress to my roommate’s funeral and throw the empty Ben & Jerry’s tub onto the coffin as it lowers into the grave.
I tend to think the best roommates are platonic boys and girls. There’s always some sorta underlying competition with two gay guys or two girls or two straight boys. Like, even with me and mine, who have nothing to compete over because we’re different body types who like different types of men, we still find stuff to top each other on. The other day he farted with his door open and the following ensued:
Does anyone wanna come home to this?
WILLAM: I dunno if you’re trying to compete with me or what, but my morning bed farts were iconic compared to your squeakers.
PASTABODY: Well, that’s funny, ’cause you heard mine but I didn’t hear yours.
WILLAM: No, that’s just acoustics ’cause my room is bigger. One thing is for sure. You def smelt mine. My fragrance is legendary.
PASTABODY: Gross. No.
WILLAM: Well, we’ll just have to see what the judges say.
Then I farted so hard I had to throw out a pair of sweats. Communication is key, right after not soiling yourself. Those kinda morning conversations are sometimes all that’s tolerable. Like, if someone says “G’morning” and I don’t say anything back, that’s a good indication to move on, right? But some persist with chirping akin to the faggotty Snow White birds. “How’d you sleep?” “What’s wrong?” “Are you in a bad mood?” Here’s the deal: If you have to ask if I’m in bad mood, the answer is always either “Yes,” “No comment,” or “Bitch, I might be.” Again: communication. If you can’t do it, do yourself a favor and be more successful by allowing yourself to live on your own. Even a passive-aggressive fridge Post-it note with “Mine” written on it counts as an attempt to communicate, so baby steps, I guess. Here are some things that it might help to know about each other:
Living with someone is waaaaay easier when there are two bathrooms. Otherwise, I find myself mad at stupid stuff, like why is my soap wet? I don’t want my soap wet until I want to take a shower. So if you like someone 90 percent and 10 percent of the things they do annoy you, remember it decreases by 10 percent incrementally, with a shared shitter making the approval rating 80 percent. That’s a C. That means 20 percent or one-fifth of the time you’re home you run the risk of wanting to sit in your room with your door shut, which will only lead other occupants to believe you’re either a manic depressive, an ISIS member, or just a chronic masturbator.
YOUR SHIT SHACK AIN’T A LIBRARY LIST (MAGAZINES TO SHIT TO)
Highlights
AAA’s Via magazine. It’s the auto club travel mag. Great for if your dad comes over to poop.
Playboy. It’ll make people go “Playboy? Why he got Playboy? Maybe he’s bi. Oooh, I wonder if he tops.”
Lastly, I implore you not to put Vanity Fair in your bathroom. Everything is too long and you’ll have hemorrhoids by the time you hafta flip to page 216 to continue the article. Instead, use the equally gender-neutral Entertainment Weekly and stay up to date on what’s pooping popping in culture.
PUT YOUR TRASH CAN in a corner so you can use the wall as a lazy way to pile an extra day or so worth of shit in there because you’re a fuckin’ pig.
Don’t be one of those people who poops with the window shut. If you want to mask the sound of your booty bounty bursting forth, run the cold water, ’cause landlords usually pay for that. I’ve heard some people turn a blow-dryer on, but that’s an electrical drain and greenhouse-effects your bathroom into a hot chamber of ass. If the ass won’t evaporate from the air upon flushing, you can always pull out the window screen and use it as a fan to waft that scent. I’ve been in shituations where I even tried opening up the cabinets to trap some of the stank air in there. I keep matches in there to eliminate that issue.
I don’t recommend bringing electronics into the bathroom. Otherwise your MacBook Air runs the risk of turning into a craptop. Water, poop, fluids, and aerosols are really not awesome for your devices. I’ve dropped my phone in the toilet. It’s not something you ever wanna hafta fish out. Slippery little sucker.
MOVING TIP
The smartest thing you can do when relocating to a new city is to get a grasp on your surroundings ASAP. Like, doing a lap at a party as soon as you get there so you can scope everything out. My advice is, if you’re hot, get a rich guy to take you out on a date and ask him for a helicopter tour of the city. Let him suck you off while you watch porn too, ’cause that’s the right thing to do. Just saying.
If you’re ugly, just get a shower curtain with a map of your new town on it so you can look at it while you poop. You probably spend a lot of time in the bathroom anyway, what with the crying in the bathtub and/or jerking off over the sink.
REASONS YOU MIGHT THINK ARE OK TO HAVE SEX IN YOUR ROOMMATE’S ROOM BUT ACTUALLY AREN’T
’Cause you ain’t done sheets in a minute and you don’t want the hookup to find pieces of Teddy Grahams cookies.
’Cause your comforter smells like a comfarter.
’Cause your roomie has Apple TV and you can play the good porn on his flat-screen.
’Cause they have that one big mirror that makes everything look like life-size porn.
’Cause you let your dog sleep in your bed with you.
Rip this page out!
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How to SUCK LESS at
THROWING PARTIES
To determine your guest list, just divide the square footage of your party space by the number of people you could end up in bed with, and that’s how many people you invite. Bartenders are great options, too. Hire your fave from the local bar for a hundred dollars or so and it’s a good solid, I’d say, 65 to 80 percent chance he will fuck you or one of your guests. Bartenders are town bicycles, and just like bikes, they have ten speeds: slut, whore, player, hooker, skank, nympho, floozy, hussy, humpdog, and flirt.
You don’t want people in and out of your fridge and freezer all night. If you invite more than thirty people, really think about hiring some help. If I do more than fifty people, I usually hire two bartenders. Drunk people seem to forget that even toilets can only serve one asshole at a time. This one dude I try to fuck every time I’m in Chicago, named Art, said, “A thirsty friend is more dangerous than a vengeful friend.” I don’t understand that, but I do know if it’s ever his birthday, I’m gonna just shove a Pop-Tart on a stripper’s dick and tell him to blow that. No one actually ever eats the cake because carbs are the enemy of getting drunk.
If hiring professionals isn’t in the budge, you need to round up your two besties and institute a four-drink maximum until at least two hours of the party have elapsed. Assign each a role. One person on analysis (playlists, parking, running interference on neighbors/cops/pets) and the other on paralysis (booze, drugs, maybe a snack or two). If they don’t wanna help, they’re dicks. Try asking people you’ve known for seven years, because if a friendship lasts seven years, studies show it’s probably for the long run (I forget what studies, but I know for sure I read it in something). If you haven’t known anyone in your town for seven years, ask people you’ve seen naked. If you don’t have anyone at your party you’ve seen naked, kill yourself (or just turn up the heat; it’ll make people disrobe faster). Put extra bags of ice in the bathroom, hidden behind the shower curtain because it’s always the first thing to run out, too. Having the tub filled will also keep people from fucking in the tub or pissing in it when the toilet backs up from too many flushes.
BGB: BYE GIRL BYE
When you’re the smartest person in the room, it’s time to leave the room (another lesson I learned from a girl group).
Call the cops on your own party. Great way to clear out assholes and stragglers.
If “No Scrubs” comes on, leave immediately after. It’s not gonna get better than that.
Put out some hummus and ten minutes later say the toilet just broke. Everyone will be like “Bye!”
SUCK LESS AT SOUNDS
SOIREE EDITION
Think of a movie without music. It would be real damn boring. Music is an important way to set the tone, underscoring and advancing your party along. Shutting it down is also the best way to indicate to guests that it’s time to GTF out. You want the kinda songs people know the lyrics to but they actually butcher them. The kinda songs you can’t help but nod your head to.
“Candy Shop” 50 Cent
“Lemme Freak” Lil Dicky
“Ladies’ Night” Missy Elliott
“Holiday” and/or “Beautiful Stranger” Madonna
“Oops!… I Did It Again” Britney
“Bend Ova” Lil Jon featuring Tyga
“All About That Bass” Meghan Trainor
“Doo-Wop (That Thing)” Lauryn Hill
“Thrift Shop” Macklemore featuring Ryan Lewis
“Super Freak” Rick James
“Black Magic” Little Mix
“It’s Gonna Be a Lovely Day” S.O.U.L. S.Y.S.T.E.M. featuring Michelle Visage
“Don’t (Rick Ross Remix)” Ed Sheeran
“Any Way You Want It” Journey
“All Cried Out” Blonde featuring Alex Newell
“Legendary” Alaska Thunderfuck
“Start Me Up” Rolling Stones
“I Am the Body Beautiful” Salt-N-Pepa
“You Make Me Feel (Mighty Real)” Sylvester
“Brenda Had a Baby” Tupac
“Sweet Thing” Rufus featuring Chaka Khan
“Primadonna Girl” Marina and the Diamonds
“Thank You” Busta Rhymes
“What’s New Pussycat?” Tom Jones
“I Want It That Way” Backstreet Boys
“Headband” B.o.B featuring 2 Chainz
“Coin on the Dresser” Willam
PARTY GAMES
1 Battleshots. Pizza box, shot glasses, Sharpie. Get the good marker you can huff, too.
2 Dirty Jenga. Spin the Bottle crossed with Truth or Dare.
3 Scattergories. Shit on a twister mat and spin around in it. Great for Scat Parties or Earth Day.
4 A good ol’ ho stroll. No pads. Day face. Faux hooking. See what you and your sister can do on that one strip of the street where the cars slow down. Winner wins bragging rights and possibly a ride.
If anyone asks if you’re the Tin Man, tell them you’re dressed as Slutty Mercury Poisoning.
SUCKING LESS AT HALLOWEEN
Halloween is make-or-break time. The right getup can showcase that you’re clever and creative, and it will get you laid in one fell swoop. Just putting on red underwear and saying you’re the devil is lame. You’re not. You’re the devil because you “forget” to mention your genital herpes to hookups. Think of something topical that also won’t make you the douche in the club who keeps smacking people at every move with your stupid angel wings or giant cardboard box. It’s also not the time to attempt something that will eat up time when you could be having fun. I saw too many attempts at Lady Gaga cheek prosthetics in 2011 and most ended up looking like they had pot stickers glued to their faces.
A lot of folks tell me “I wanna be you for Halloween, but I can’t fit seven dicks in my mouth. What should I do?” Well, here are some quickie looks for people who know that calling their drag queen friend to help them on the 30th is like calling Jesus to help dye Easter eggs. I’m fuckin’ busy. Don’t try it, Mary. Halloween is a drag queen high holiday. Girls aren’t the only ones who can ditch their dignity on October 31. I got you, guys. Turn the page.
This is the IDGAF skeleton. Get a friend to draw it out. This one took Raja all of five minutes.
A tater thot jock is a great way to let people know that they could potentially be your Mr. or Mrs. Potato Head. Overcook them in the oven so they dry out on low heat. You want them as thirsty as you.
Continuing with the guys-can-be-whores-too theme, I present a hipster vampire. Just throw a blood collection vial on a chain with a bloody tampon to suck for the pictures.
This is inspired by my manager, David, who looks like a sweet little bear but in actuality is a pimp who provides pussy across the land. Teddy Ruxpimp is a classic. All you need is bear-related paraphernalia, a name tag, and a cassette tape affixed to your chest.
Halloween is the most common day when heteros wade into LGBT waters. We have better parties. Point-blank. Ergo, this is prime time to bag a straight guy. It won’t be reciprocal, or even sanitary in most cases, but it will be enjoyable.
If you’re a gay boy, pick a country (Hi, UKers!) and paint your face like their flag. It’s a good convo starter, so when the guy in the bathroom line asks, “What are you?” you can reply, “I’m the fag of England.” Nine times outta ten, he’ll probably say, “Flag or fag?” and you can reply with “Either-or” and a wink. The wink will relay that you’re open for biz should he wanna test the waters. He also may want to punch you, and that means he’s not into it… yet. Use lots of liquor to wash away that thin line between gay bashing and hate fucking. If he’s with his girl, it’s always easy to make her the target and then bait and switch. Girls like to make out with anyone when they’re drunk, especially drag queens, so take advantage of that. If he keeps saying that he’s with his woman, go with the subtle “That’s cool. Somebody hasta hold the camera.”
PS: Dumpsters always smell like piss. Don’t blow peop
le near them even if it’s garbage for a nice store like Burdines or Radio Shack.
I had a Zombie Princess Di look planned for the first episode of Drag Race with the Apocalypse challenge but was told not to do it, so I saved it for this. Poor judgment really can stand the test of time.
31
How to SUCK LESS at
CONTROLLED SUBSTANCES
Now, I’m not saying you should sneak drugs into any situation where they’re not allowed. Remember, inner beauty doesn’t get drink tickets, so BYOB, bitch.
HAIR BOTTLE
What you’ll need. If you’re trying to sneak a bottle in because you’re poor, this is an awesome option. If this isn’t possible due to no one on your crew having long hair, you may just have to buttchug before you get inside and rely on your buzz staying strong enough to avoid going to the bar for three hours or so. I know I previously mentioned buttchugging, but disposable enemas also work great as contraband-smuggling receptacles and a way to sneak G or any other liquid onto a cruise. Y’know how anyone with drugs can upsell their product by, like, 200 percent because of the limited supply and high demand? Nix that. Forget about the high bar costs, too.
Always say hi to the drug dogs before they say hi to you. I tend to travel with my stash in checked luggage in a container that, by the looks of it, no one would touch.