Press, kids. Press

"There are no small roles, only small actors."
(Shakespeare)
"There are no small roles, only underpublicized actors."
(Willam)

www.Queerty.com was nice enough to make me blog of the week and I am just thrilled. My writing has never been featured anywhere other than a bathroom stall. Check it out. It's a great new site that has topical gay entries moderated by the fabulous Bradford.
http://www.queerty.com/queer/willam-belli/index.php

Also, the issue of Frontiers that I was recently interviewed for is coming out Monday so be sure to pick it up. I hope my article isn't by the hooker ads. That would totally kill my street value.

Entrepa-whore

OK. So i drinks a bit. Like the Mr Bojangles song. You don't know it? Well fuck off (but keep reading..i can't afford to lose a one of you, my precious readers)

Working at la MJ's last night, I happened upon a broke-down, drag queen who's grille looked like she'd been chewing rocks. Her weave was stank and one might characterize it as "piss-poor." Her name was Chanda Lear. Lear? Fuck, I didn't even want to look. Anyway, She inspired me to finally get moving on some projects I've been meaning to do (ever since those damn producers left me high and dry on putting up Betsy Ross: Flag my Ass, my one whoa-man show.)

First, some back story. Through Seana and Nat, I met a a gay guy who used to host Curb Appeal, an HGTV show about the appearances of house when they go up for sale. I guess he got fired or something. I thought it would be fun to get him to host a Tranny-Curb Appeal. Y'know, passed out drunk trannies in gutters. There'd be a smelly Del Taco punta, a Shakey's Pizza whore who smelled slightly of dumpster Parmasean and urine. Prospective Johns would venture by and say what they would spend on each particular whore...Whatever whore got the highest bid would get an elegant sash and an Origami crown made from LA Express Ads. The loser gets clubbed with Bill's butt plug (which also provides gorgeous, brunette lowlights in the process...i know, that's crude...but Bill hasn't read his good bottom handbook which clearly states that a good bottom never eats after 7 pm.)

I'm also thinking of making trading cards, much like the Garbage Pail Kids, called Trash Can Trannies. All the fave's would be there. Cumdump Connie, Messie Tessie and DiDi DP (Didi is brilliant Director of Photography on Tranny Curb Appeal and conviently enough, can also take two cocks at a time in the gorge she calls a man-puss.)
I'm also thinking of including some already chewed gum w/ genuine transexual DNA, and at least 3 other specimens of various friends/johns.
Card profits will also benefit Warts for Wanda fund. They just keep popping up despite our montly nail clipper prunings.

Webster's (Midget not Dictionary) Word of the Week

GOLD DIGGAH
1. like a hooker, only smarter.
2. one who mines for gold in extremely urban areas such as pittsburg or compton, not classy mines like where Charlize Theron mines/gets sexually harassed in the upcoming film North County.

Webster's (midget's/not dictionary's) Word of the Week

Webster's defines READING as:
1) to examine and grasp the meaning of written or printed characters
2) telling a ho what her faults are in regards to her appearance, family and general state.
exp. "Bitch, your weave looks like a drain clog"Also: Bitch, when you was born, your mama looked at you and just wished she woulda given head.

p.s. I posted this because I realized while my readership is based mostly in the fudgepacking i'll-wear-a-brooch-if-i-want-to type, some of my straight readers wouldn't understand what I meant in my last entry that I entitled Reading. So now you all have the word of the week feature. What can I say? I'm a giver. Ask anyone on a navy base and they'll tell ya the same.

READING

So today I auditioned for an MTV pilot called Yo' Mama.

It's the brainchild of Wilmer Valderamalangadingdon. It's basically a show were people insult each other until someone wins. I auditioned w/ 3 African American guys from Compton. Like these are men that would beat me down if I insulted them on the street. Meanwhile, I'm sure they woulda fucked me if we were in lock-up and they did not like the fact that I implied that. Well to quote me I said, "that they were all one strike away from pretending the boy under them just has a really big clit for the next 5 to 10." And while we're on the clit topic, I may have also implied that their one's mother was so slutty, that her clitoris might be used for sporting events, in particular- double dutch. They all looked like customers at a Bel Biv DeVoe yard sale. They just stared at me. How could they not know what to say? What kinda ghetto boy doesn't know how to insult a fag? Just me standing there is like giving him a Rambo belt of ammo. They all sucked. Granted, I did have the advantage of being raised by a pack of roaving transexual prostitutes. Shit. These bitches would follow a woman blocks just to read her about how awful it was to wear running shoes with pantyhose and a suit while walking to work. They'd trudge blocks (in heels) just to insult random people. They really wanted to rid the world of these Dress for Less disasters.

Late night games

Who wants to play a game?
http://www.eclecticwebs.com/funfile/RawStuff/HeShe/
I got 14 out of 16. Post your scores in my comments section, please.
I said please. Like I mean it or something. Can you tell I haven't worked in over a month. I'm being nice to people. My last audition for was the Pam Anderson sitcom which is only on for like two reasons....and both those reasons have scar tissue. Do you think the old implants get residuals? She's sorta talented though. At least she found her niche. Just like my niche is between my legs and covered in duct tape.

Websters defines SNATCHED as looking fishy; or the ability to get outta a solication charge with a freebie. 

Holly Goheavy

I'm so not a graceful ingenue. I'm not even a tranny porn starlet. It takes a lot of makeup to look pretty (or how I end up looking anyway). Usually a few gaffers and some non-union riggers to spray coat me in foundation and then we pray I don't sweat or exert myself enough to wear a nut pops out and ruins my leg makeup or something.

So the lead up to this is ...I had a photo shoot yesterday. So naturally, I had a Photoshop session today. Everything came out great. I'm doing some press for my TV shows this fall so some new pics were in order since I lost about 15 lbs for Nip/Tuck two months ago. I've since gained it back but I already bought the hair weave so what the fuck right? So I come up with the brilliant idea of me in drag setting my normal guy headshot on fire. I go up to the roof of my building with the photographer because it gives good light. We got 15 snaps off before the we heard fire trucks. So I start running up and down 3 flights of stairs in my building telling everyone that there's no fire and not to worry. People gathered in the courtyard and outside were more worried when they saw me in a flimsy slip that had rode up to my hips and hairy thighs that were dirty with roof gravel. In my defense, how the fuck should I even guess that there was a fire alarm on the roof. The firemen, who were requistely hunky, thought I shoulda guessed. Including the words "stupid," I had to hear them tell my building manager that one of their tenants was "playing girlyman on the roof."

So after the whole fire debacle, I continued on the photo shoot alas with no more fire. So we decided to take some regular headshots. Unfortunately, the size 6 15 lbs ago jeans had an disagreement with my hips. Apparently, the jeans wanted to button, the hips were saying don't think so, the jeans got mouthy...blah blah blah. In the end the jeans got buttoned but in the pics the hips won. End of story, all the pics need to be cropped at the waist so it doesn't look like a drag queen with an open C-section.

All in all, it was a good day. Oh...and after the fire debacle on the roof, guess which tranny leaves her curling iron and melts down her new MAC Spice lip pencil and a CD cover? It wasn't Rupaul.
P.S. i wrote this entry drunk and I spelled like everything perfect. Why don't people drink more? Asahi makes everyone all nice and cuddly like early Us Weekly Bennifer.

Did you donate yet?

I did....and now moving on.

I've been really busy. It's about to get fun again with all the shitstorm of stuff I have coming up. People want to interview me, make out with me and do my hair. It's wonderful. Also, I've been working a lot....well sorta. I guess it's work. I mean, if not, it should be called a blow-fun instead.

talk to you all more soon.