1997 was a seminal year for Tobas it seems, many very strange things happened to me in that spring, summer and fall that had not happened before, or since.  So, now it is time once more, for another, Tobas True Hollywood story!


Tobas circa 1997.


Staying in the city meant of course, after work, partying in the city.  So most nights we would head out to someplace, and listen to some melodic electronic music.  On the weekends things were a bit different.  Anyone who has partied as a manhantannite knows, fridays and saturdays are primarily B+T.  For those of you who drive into, or take the LIRR into the city, they are talking about you, bridge and tunnel folks.  You bring your popped collars and cheesy attitudes, and people who just want to chill and have a good time, can’t.  Nevertheless, we began to attend Twilo, which is now Pascha I believe, regularly on friday nights.  Knowing who we knew at the time, it was a simple matter to bypass VIP area security and seat ourselves in the small section with the beautiful/blatant drug using people to the right of the DJ booth.

It turns out, there were to be wilhemina agency parties there on fridays for the entire summer, and better yet, they were costume themed, with most of the models wearing angel wings on their backs and not much else.  The second friday we went, and we decided to fit in as best we could.  My boss went as an altar boy, a few other folks went as clergy, and I went as a priest, white collar and all.  With my chin length blonde-streaked hair, it was nothing what I ever looked like,or will probably look like again.  At any rate, a guy named bobby who was with us suggested as we were leaving that my costume would look quite dramatic with a bit of mascara, I shrugged, and said, what the hell, and the next thing I know my eyes were lined.  I took one quick look in the mirror before I left, and surprised myself by how good I actually looked.

We walked in and took our usual seats, but I noticed I was being stared at quite a bit more than usual.  I scooted into a corner sipping on an amaretto sour, and saw nick the meth fairy skipping towards me. 

Now nick was an interesting character.  One would think by his name, that he was a drug dealer.  After all, he was the meth fairy, because he, well, always had meth.  In truth, he was more of a drug donater.  He stayed strictly within the confines of the ropes and when asked, produced a small bump of meth on the first knuckle of his right hand, which would then be sniffed up by the grateful VIP party-goer.  Why the meth “fairy”?  Well, for starters he wore little cherub wings on his back, and sometimes carried a little prop wand, and, were he any more obvious about his sexual preference, he would have required johnny storms fantastic four outfit.

(I wish to remind the reader at this time, that all of this is disturbingly true, down to the little ridiculous glowing wand I just described, and I found it as ridiculous as most of you would I am sure)

Moving on, nick came over and sat down very close to me, putting his lips as close to my ear as they could go without actually tasting cartilage, and whispered in his falsetto tone, “I’ve been a very, very bad boy, care to hear my confession?”  Being buzzed and indifferent, I merely shrugged my shoulders, noticing some people were watching us intently.  He went on to describe a lurid fantasy involving him, myself, party drugs, and possibly several gallons of lubrication.  I laughed and he floated away to get someone else high.  I looked around and noticed someone approaching me once again, but this time it was one of the wilhemina models, and she was gorgeous and dark skinned.  She took her seat next to mine and informed me that nick had been telling folks that he needed to give confession, and thats what I was there for.  She found it funny, and confessed that she found me attractive as well.  Judging from her pupils, nick had given her something as well.  She went on to mock confess to me about things she did the night before, and how she stomped a mans testicles the week before (she actually did that for extra money on the side, but that is a story for another time).  Subsequently, we ended up dating, but that also is another story.

At any rate, it began a trend of sorts, with me going to my corner, then being supplied with a steady stream of amaretto sours, and listening to people tell me all sorts of filthy, sexy, and sometimes nauseating things.

One particular friday, we noticed the crowd was decidedly less B+T, and decidedly cooler.  It so happens that Sasha and Digweed were spinning that night as well.  The music was absolutely godly, and I had several different types of intoxicating substances flowing through my bloodstream.  I sat for short periods, listening while hopping up and down in my seat.  At some point, I began to relax a little, and I just sat there, sipping and grooving, feeling quite lovely.  It was then that I saw the largest, pinkest transvestite I had ever seen approaching my little corner.  She sat down next to me, and whispered in a surprising baritone, ” I heard you hear confession, ‘father’ “.  I nodded in the affirmative, and she got a bit closer.

“Well, I have to confess, that I heard about you from some friends of mine, and I had to come and see for myself, and the moment I saw you from over there (she pointed by the bar), I knew I wanted to take you into the bathroom and suck your fucking cock.”

Bear in mind, this was certainly not the first time I had heard something like this whispered in my ear.  But this was the first time something that looked like it escaped from fraggle rock had whispered that in my ear.  I looked at her glittering eyes and said in the most serious voice I could muster, ” I am so sorry my child, but you know we of the priesthood are celibate folk”.

She laughed and whispered back, ” well ok honey, but if you change your mind I’ll be over there.”  She got up and left, and my friend andy immediately took her place.  He whispered in an awed tone, ” Hey, do you know who that was?”  I had no clue, and shook my head.  He continued sounding a little exasperated, ” That was Lady Bunny!  Holy shit, what did she say to you?”

I whispered back softly, ” She wanted, to suck my dick.”  He gaped at me, and answered one word at a time.  ” No, fucking, way”.  I nodded and mouthed, ” Yes, fucking, way”.  He didn’t answer that, and instead laughed and ran over to another group of people to the left of me and began talking frantically.  Eventually, the story turned into me having to wipe off pink mascara from my scrotum, but I suppose that is what happens to stories over time, they become exaggerated, and take on a life of their own.

It seems that Lady Bunny is (was?) somewhat of a celebrity amongst the tranny crowd.  Not exactly hollywood I suppose, but it was amusing.


I am really not doing much to quell the notion some people have that I am in the closet am I?