Suck Less: Where There's a Willam, There's a Way

by Willam Belli

  If you go into business with friends, plan it out like you won’t be friends by the end. Stuff goes wrong. For instance, if someone wants to be paid in cash and they don’t want to fill out a W-9 for it ’cause their bank account would get flagged by the IRS, since they’ve failed to file a tax return in five years, don’t do it. It’s not a no-good-deed-goes-unpunished type of thing. It’s just common sense. Taxes are the worst. And, hey, if your old girl group is giving you grief, just start a new one. Move on and grow.

  SUCK LESS at STRIPPING

  SO YOU WANNA TAKE YOUR CLOTHES OFF FOR MONEY?

  So if after reading all of that, you’re thinking you want to take your clothes off for money, please read what follows. If you want to be a drag queen, congratulations. Just watch my tutorials and do the opposite.

  To become a go-go dancer or stripper, you’ll probably have to audition at a club during club hours. If you have a body so crazy good (one of my dancers screen-tested for Superman) or a dick so huge (Nolan Gerard Funk, Versace model) that it doesn’t matter if you can stay on beat, then you’ll probably get hired as soon as I see your abs. But my general rule is, if you don’t make any money on a weekend night during prime time, you won’t be getting hired. If I get you down from the box and you’re dollarless, don’t ask “When do I start?” Ask “Do you know anyone to fix my gynecomastia?”

  I’m totally actually lying. I will hire you if you make no money during your audition if I know you’re a hooker or just a run-of-the-mill skankpot who will turn bathroom tricks and keep the customers coming back and happy. But warning: Get the money first, Mary. Tell them panty sniffers “No cashy, no kissy.” Don’t let nobody try to get your shape before they hit that ATM. This one time, one of my favorite shittercritters texted me, asking for a shift, saying he was “free this hole weekend,” and I just didn’t have the heart to tell him he was more right than he knew.

  Many get sucked into the life of the dance very quickly, overtanning and supplementing, or even worse, doing a cycle of steroids. G’head and do some HGH (which cuts fat), but the steroids are a gamble. They tend to make you break out, and then if you top it with oil, it’s just highlighting the skin issues… or what I call “badvertising.”

  Being able to handle your scandal is something most people think will be easy at the clubs, whether it be sex, liquor, or drugs. With sex, the trick is not to put out with everyone if you’re gay. You want a certain amount of untouchability. Mystery equals money. With liquor, it’s one of the easiest ways to gain weight. That and disco fries combined with sleeping late can take you from instant hire to lunch shifts only within a month or two. Drugs are the biggie. Drugs can give you nicknames like Grumpy, Roidy, Stubby, or Blackout Bobby. This queen I know named Bubbles was told she was taking MDMA when in fact someone gave her Viagra and she couldn’t tuck for a full night. So many go-go boys have tried to tell me they were roofied, and I’ve made them sit with me while we scrolled through hours of security footage to see if they actually were. I would tell them, “Listen, it’s a recession. No one is wasting their drugs on you. So if we don’t find anyone dosing your drink on the cameras and you want to keep your job, you’ll be working for a month for tips only.” You can guess how that went.

  Watching people lie when they don’t know that I’ve heard it all before was always the best. “I was at the hospital” was always followed by “Well, show me your discharge papers.” “I was in an accident” was always replied to with “Show me a pic of your car.” The lie most often told by a performer is when another performer asks “Does this look good?” When an insecure dancer asks, half the people won’t care, half the people will say yes even if it doesn’t because it’s a competition for the customer’s coins, and the other half will steal it if it is actually cute. I know that that’s three halves, but this is stripper math. Nobody comes to a club wondering what stylistic choices their favorite dancer is gonna wear. One thing, though: Your shoes are a direct reflection of your genitals. Dirty sneakers usually equate to pubes that look like a rough patch of grass by the highway on-ramp. Plus, your feet are at eye level if you’re dancing on a bar. Otherwise, all the armbands, leg warmers, sunglasses, and anything not used to enhance your sexual organs are superfluous. If you don’t know what “superfluous” means, it’s basically a drag queen doing “Freakum Dress” in pants. Beyoncé would never.

  A penis with a PayPal is a dangerous thing. Never pay for hookers with online money transfers. It’s considered wire fraud, which is a federal crime.

  34

  How to SUCK LESS at

  SOCIAL MEDIA

  Social media isn’t really real. It’s a buncha words, pictures, and clips edited to garner attention and ultimately compete with each other for virtual ticks of favor. It’s a meal that you can keep eating without ever getting full, and I fuckin’ love it! Sure, it’s shallow, but think about when you go swimming. Shallow end—no diving, bitch. Plus, I’m not trying to get my hair wet right now.

  Here are some tips to make the Internet a place where you can find food, fun, or fucks. Don’t do all three at once. AppleCare don’t cover that.

  A. Ask. There are no stupid questions. Only stupid fuckin’ people who say that kinda diatribe. Generally, the Internet is a place for ho-hums to act like they’re Hercules. If someone comes at you wrong, consider your options and then go with my fail-safe one: replying in an attractive, congenial demeanor to further enrage the aggressor. Sometimes this is with a simple smiley face. Sometimes it’s with nothing at all. They want a reaction. People love to play keyboard warrior.

  B. Brevity is the soul of wit. Keep it short. Keep it simple. Steal it from someone and use it when you don’t have an answer.

  C. Complaining is draining. No one ever has signed on to Facebook or anything else to say “Hmmmm… Let’s see how I can intentionally depress myself today.” Have they? No. They haven’t. That’s what the news is for. As someone who has no real job but lives offa people enjoying things I say/do/put in my body, I try to spike everything with humor. Chances are your whiny musings won’t be Ellen bait, so if you’re also trying to make a living as an entertainer, remember the show must go on.

  D. Discrimination. You thought this was gonna be “dick,” didn’t you? Well, it kinda is. You’re a dick if you discriminate. If someone says they’re offended by something you typed about their race, creed, gender, or natural abilities, you have two options, which both involve apologies: (1) you can apologize that they feel that way, or (2) you can apologize for failing to see how you’re the offending party and refer them to A. Again, nothing wrong with asking. Ignorance is the inability to learn after being repeatedly taught… so ask a bitch to teach you. I had a friend who called herself a Chinegro because her dad was Chinese and her mom was Sudanese. I said it once and my mother slapped the shit outta me. I didn’t know I was being racist. I try to steer away from race-related humor even though I’ve had so much dark dick, I get tested for sickle cell. Oh damn. I just did it again. I also impersonated Precious’s mom once for a movie and that ended up on the Internet. The director of the movie justified it by comparing it to the Wayanses doing White Chicks, but I was the one that took the heat. I apologized sincerely and moved on. But there’s always people who want to wallow in someone else’s mistakes online, and it’s their prerogative. I know I would rather come in outta the rain and party. Have fun and meet new people. Just don’t ask your new friends what they’re mixed with. People are not salads. When you ask “Are you halfrican or all black?” people know you’re really wondering about the texture of their pubes, and it makes you look like a whore.

  E. Emoji! Here are some you’ll use after reading this book:

  F. First Amendment. Say whatever you want. I say “faggot” because I’m reclaiming it, just like “queer” was reclaimed in the ’70s and “dyke” was reclaimed by lesbians with big motorcycles. I feel like any pain anyone else has associated with the word “fag” is none of my business after all the pain I went thro
ugh getting buttfucked a lot by a Dominican dude when I was fifteen. If the slur applies to you, feel free to say it. If it’s slur-adjacent, tread carefully. I don’t say “tranny” much because it’s a hot-button topic. “Tranny” was originally slang for “transvestite” (a man who dresses in women’s clothing), but it’s since been misappropriated by the porn industry as a moniker for transgender people (individuals who take active steps to change their gender). But me arguing that is like someone asking Winnie-the-Pooh about fire safety. Sure, he lives up in the Hundred Acre Wood, but he really doesn’t give a fuck. Pooh just wanna eat honey and get Eeyore to not be such a fuckin’ buzzkill.

  G. Ghost, as in ghosting that fucker cold. Someone posts your pic without tagging you? Ghost ’em for a day. Someone asks you a question that they shouldn’t put you in a position to answer, like “Will you take me to the airport?” Ghost ’em until they’re on that damn plane. Friends don’t ask friends to take them to the airport. They know damn well they could get a shuttle. A light ghosting like that last one requires some finesse, because you have to have zero activity on all your accounts. Otherwise they’ll know you’ve been by your phone and woulda seen their message. So if you post, you’re toast.

  H. Humblebrag. Holding up a pizza box with your six-pack on display or taking pictures while you’re volunteering at a soup kitchen are both good examples of humblebragging. If your body is good enough to show off, go have fun with it while you’re still young instead of posting braggadocious pics of yourself. Oh, and if you want to do good, just do the good for goodness’s sake or to offset all your kleptomania.

  I. Inspirational insipidness. Don’t post inspirational quotes just to make it seem like less of a humblebrag. Seriously. My friend’s model boyfriend du jour posted something about how nothing in this life is eternal and nothing is without it’s [sic] fault—literally with faulty grammar—then tagged it #legday because his thighs were out. It’s like “Huh?”

  J. Jizz. It’s what’s all over the floor around where your laptop is. It’s also the name of the best things on the Internet: Jiz, the drug-pushing, sex-pimping, gender-bending version of everyone’s favorite ’80s cartoon pop star on Sienna D’Enema’s YouTube channel, which has overdubbed send-ups of The Golden Girls, Punky Brewster, and Paula Deen. Also, this book was almost named Queef on My Tits, Bitch: The Willam Belli Story because of its creator, Evil Jeff.

  K. K. Fuck you, autocorrect. When I write “K,” I’m trying to say “OK” but shortened, yet spell-check constantly changes it to “I.” Fuckin’ A! Or actually ducking A, in this case.

  L. Libel is a written form of defamation. Slander is a spoken form of defamation. So if you’re trash-talking someone blind who uses voice translation reader software to relay info off the computer, you can be sued for both. Don’t fuck with blind people. Deaf people you can clown on, though. They never listen.

  M. Miley Cyrus. She is my favorite person online because she gave her album away for free and is using her fame and talents to bring attention to worthy causes, like homeless LGBT youth. She is the future for philanthropy, putting her money where her mouth is when it’s not wrapped around a blunt or a microphone.

  N. Native American prostitute lady man on Cops. Google “excuse my beauty” and know that when he told that officer, “I won’t work my looks no more,” he sure did mean it.

  O. Online slang, like ASL BBW M$4M DTF. Just say it. If you have that little time to actually communicate with another person you’re trying to potentially fuck, just light a scented candle and get yourself off alone, you illiterate fuck.

  P. Pimp game. Keep your pimp game strong, but don’t strong-arm. It’s OK to make the little googly eyes on a picture of someone half naked, but don’t write “I want to be inside you” or some creepy shit like that. So no flirting ’less we gonna be fucking.

  Q. Queer as Folk. Find the British version on the Internet and watch the hot blond dude from Sons of Anarchy get his ass eaten out like a Choco Taco. The whole series is really good.

  R. Reaching. Don’t do it. You know when you’re reaching. When someone posts a picture of a party and you weren’t there, don’t post “Wow—looks fun” ’cause then you look like a whiny bitch baby. I don’t automatically become a singing telegram just because you saw me on a reality TV show and you tell me it’s your birthday. I’ve had, like, thirty-three of them, and chances are you never got me a cake or a stripper. So BGB. Internet validation is just a drop in a bucket deeper than Buffalo Bill’s fat-girl well.

  S. Sarcasm. Tone is one of the few things that you can’t get delivered on the Internet. If someone says something that’s crappy and gets called out for it but then throws an “I was being sarcastic” excuse on it, it really makes you wonder. For instance, I was asked what I would do if I was given a “ginormous amount of Skittles.” I replied, “Throw them at trans kids,” fully knowing that I could be crucified. Make sure when you make a joke with sarcasm that you use a double-blind technique, which protects you either way. ’Cause maybe I was throwing them at trans kids because Skittles are fuckin’ delicious and I was trying to share. (See what I did there?)

  T. Tagging. My friend @emersoncollins had the most brilliant Halloween costume of 2015. He combined Lil’ Kim with Kim Davis. Miss “four million followers” Chrissy Teigen posts his pic up, probably full-well knowing who he is (and I know this because I follow her and got excited when she tweeted that she loved Bravo’s The People’s Couch, a show @emersoncollins stars on). So Miss Girl goes ahead and posts his pic with no tag. I know, right? You know how the Internet works, Chrissy. I mean it’s part of the reason you’re so popular. So pay it forward, girl. Tag a bitch next time. Especially when people who enjoy your social media are part of what makes you a success. It’s like someone passing you a napkin and you sneezing in it, then handing it back.

  U. Untagging. Dude, I will untag you so fast if you look like some first-time-in-drag fool in a brown wig and no tits. Don’t tag me. Don’t say you’re inspired by me. Don’t tag me in a picture of an empty table with who you want at your fantasy dinner party. I don’t eat in front of strangers, bitch. Don’t tag me in a shitty picture of me that you full-well know I won’t like. I will not only untag you; I will report your ass. I don’t acknowledge every single tag that people post about me, because then it sometimes turns into a weird cycle of them tagging to say “OMG Willam liked this,” and nobody wants to see their own paper trail. It’s like looking at selfies in the club right after you take them. Weird.

  V. Vague. Being vague is lame. If you come to social media to vent about a problem instead of dealing directly with whoever your issue is with, you’re acting like a neutered junkyard dog. Don’t be passive-aggressive and bark for attention, then lick whatever hand comes through the fence and tells you to keep your head up like Tupac, even though you’re a punk. If a friend of mine posts “If you stop telling lies about me, I’ll stop telling the truth about you,” I will pick up the phone just to be sure it isn’t about me, even if we ain’t talked in a year. My friend Mathu Andersen told me, “Don’t cut your nose off to spite your Facebook,” and he’s right. Didn’t make me stop, but it’s definitely under advisement.

  W. Wisely chosen words are the best kind. Think twice and type once. Consider the Internet a billboard everyone sees as they go down a highway each day. It’s very hard to scrub an image off the Internet. Ask Sam Smith. He had a horrible single where he pranced around gayer than Frankie Grande, and it has been erased from the Internet completely by his team and label because it would’ve destroyed his credibility. (If you have it, send it to me, please!) I was actually almost sued over something I once wrote half jokingly about a game show having unsafe working conditions and criminal staff activities, and supporting crimes against humanity. I didn’t choose my words carefully enough. I should have said the show was “influenced,” not rigged, and specified that no blood diamonds or human trafficking occurred. I mean how else would it all play out so perfectly with the world’s le
ading Cher impersonator winning an impersonation challenge, a girl with a criminal record winning a jail challenge, me winning a slut challenge, and Phi Phi winning a travel magazine challenge? (That last one may not make sense, but she won the travel challenge because we all wanted her to go the fuck away.)

  X. Exes. The Internet is the best spot to keep up with them. Use it to add fuel to the fire that is the fake fantasy life that you’re living in your head. You know, the one in which they return to your loving, whoring arms. Hit up their pages quarterly only… just to see if they still have any seasonal garments you may have left at their homes.

  Y. YouTube is a wonderful place to entertain, educate, and explore any number of topics. It’s a wonderful place and might be the reason you bought this book. YouTube can make you a pop star or just teach you to pop a zit. Find me there at YouTube.com/noextrai and see what’s good.

  Z. Ain’t really shit that starts with Z, so I’ll tell you more about the zits I mentioned up in Y. Reddit.com/r/popping is a great site for anything that has ever made you go “Does this look infected?” with a fervor for nastiness. Dr. Pimple Popper (aka Sandra Lee) on YouTube is this rad little dermatologist doctor lady, and I love watching her dermatological adventures. She’s got ingrown hair removal and cyst vids. The cysts are my favorites, ’cause sometimes the whole sac gets pulled out and it’s like a baby is being born, except it doesn’t cry and it’s made of pus.

  #. # No more than three hashtags. Don’t be that #fagwithtags. The following #’s make you look stupid: #instafamous #nofilter #instaawesome #bae #nohomo #yourewelcome #model #gayguys #inkedmen #scruff #fitfam #masc4masc #vinefamous #tagsforlikes #teamfollowback #yolo #nomakeup #cleaneating #squadgoals #tooblessedtobestressed #bodypostitive #setlife #paintedbyfame #whatwouldyoudoifiwasthere #hausofdolezal #onfleek #abs #gaysofinstagram #instafit #instagay #nofomo.