2010-01-27

Porn Star Karaoke

So there’s this semi-famous event in Burbank that I’ve always been curious to check out called Porn Star Karaoke. Every Tuesday, people who work and perform in the adult entertainment industry descend upon a karaoke joint and sing their cum-stained hearts out. As the website puts it, “They get drunk and entertain each other in any way the law will permit, all loosely disguised as karaoke.” It sounds like nothing if not a spectacle, so last week I finally organized a small troop to go. Two of my friends, who are real feminist types, expressed understandable “reservations” about attending such an event, but finally relented. Much like in many a porn plot, don’t take the stiff liberrian-types’ “No”s for an answer because deep down they really want it, and soon you’ll be having a fucking good time.

Shortly after arriving, our porn star MC announced a contest: whoever screamed the loudest would win a pornographic DVD. I wanted to win, if for no other reason than because it would be funny. While everyone else screamed wildly, I decided to employ some strategy and open my mouth only pretending to scream. Then, as everyone else found his or her vocal cords unable to sustain yelling any longer, that’s when I started screaming really loud. It made it seem like I had a lot of stamina, a quality the porn star clearly liked (or perhaps she just noticed and related to my ability to fake it) because she marched over and handed me the DVD.

The DVD is called Smokin’ Cracks; though porn titles are notoriously punny, I find the name of this anal sex video particularly amusing. Kudos to the creative team on that one. After I proudly won my prize, I found out that wasn’t the only give-away of the night. There were also t-shirts that read “Porn Star Karaoke” that you know would become my favorite shirt of all time; I wish I had saved my strategy for an even better prize. I should have held it in longer: talk about a premature evocation!

If you’re wondering who shows up for an even like this: a whole bunch of dudes. Lecherous, lecherous dudes. At the back of the room, there was just this row of beer-swigging, gawking men. I’m in no position to judge them, but it was a bit creepy. As for the porn stars, “stars” seems to have been used pretty liberally, in the same manner as Dancing with the Stars. I didn’t see any big names like Jenna Jameson or Ron Jeremy. Heck, there weren’t even many of the haggard large breasted blonde women I anticipated seeing. Instead, most of the adult entertainers were tiny barely legal-looking women with reasonably sized bosoms. They’re probably the girls that play naughty babysitters in the films. Don’t get me wrong, they still looked skanky, so I’m not disappointed, I just feel as though I rented Drink Your MILF and found a copy of Hole-y Catholic Schoolgirls 17 inside instead. (Yes, I just made up those titles, but they’re probably real for all I know.)

Later, the erotic MC offered to give the loudest person a copy of Big Black Booties (or some approximation), but there was noticeably less noise than usual. Racists! Half-jokingly, I screamed, “Ooh, I’ll trade!” but my friends hushed me. Apparently, what I hadn’t noticed is that Smokin’ Cracks’s star Nicki Hunter, pictured on the cover, was not so coincidentally the MC. She had awarded me her own porn: what an honor! And there I was trying to trade it away, how ungrateful could I be?

When it came time to award another prize, I knew I would probably not be eligible for a second freebie, so I threw my support behind another friend. As she shouted, I covered my mouth with my hand and screamed loudly behind her head to contribute to the noise and make it appear as if it was all coming from just the one person. Again, my strategy succeeded and she won the most amazing Porn Star Karaoke tank top. Look, I’m not going to claim I was the smartest person in the room that night, but the advantage in these porn contests definitely went to the one guy thinking with his brain rather than his crotch.

One of my friends struck up a conversation with a man who had been hanging out in the porn VIP section. When she walked back to the table, she expressed that she wanted to know if he worked in porn because she was now intrigued. With only the tiniest bit of encouragement, she decided to slip him her phone number to learn more about him later. Alas, when she went up to him later, she learned that he was not a part of the porn industry and decided not to even bother handing him her digits. “What would be the point?” she told us. Yeah – what would be the point in pursuing a man not involved in porn? BORING!

Finally, I got to sing my one song of the night. Most people were performing lackluster ballads, but, in the spirit of the night, I wanted to do something significantly more risqué. Nothing out-and-out dirty like “I Touch Myself” or “The Whisper Song” (which should be played exclusively at weddings) as that would be too clichéd. More than anything, I just wanted to scream and show some attitude, so I performed “Flagpole Sitta,” which seemed to wake people up and was well received.



While one friend was outside on a cigarette break, her name was called to sing a song. I ran outside to alert her, and then sprinted to the porn MC and said, “She’s coming, she’s coming!” “You’re cumming?” she asked seductively and gave me a wink. I was a bit thrown off that she would think that a stranger would run up to her to announce he was ejaculating, but considering her profession, I suppose it’s plausible that this has actually happened before. “No, no,” I corrected her, just as my friend rushed up to the microphone. “[The singer] is coming.” “Oh,” the MC said. “I thought you meant you were cumming,” and proceeded to pantomime a jerking off action. It’d be unreasonable to expect a lot of tact and class in this environment, but I must admit I was unduly shocked nonetheless.

Meanwhile, since I had the star of Smokin’ Cracks in my presence, I thought I should get it signed, as it seemed like the perfect way to end the night. I asked Hunter for her autograph, but her marker was dead, so she said she would find a new one before cooing into my ear “Promise you won’t leave.” I wasn’t prepared to disappoint, so I sat and made my friends wait. For the next half hour, I watched Hunter dance seductively with men, sit on their laps, grab her breasts, and do just about everything other than obtaining a new marker. As my friends grew impatient, I finally went back up to her to ask if she had gotten the marker, even though I knew full well she had not.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” she said. “I’ll go get one now – come with me.” Without warning, she grabbed me by the penis (over the pants, mind you) and yanked me thirty feet across the bar to a waitress who had a marker. The whole time, I was so shocked and unsure how to react that I just giggled and she led me by my, uh, leash.

Check out what she wrote to me!

For the record, it looked like she was sharing her ass with a lot of guys that night, so while I doubt its sincerity, I still appreciate the sentiment.

I would show the back cover, too, but then I would lose any pretense of maintaining a family friendly website (yeah, go ahead and laugh, my habitual readers), so you’ll just have to use your imagination or conduct some illicit Google search.

Nikki Hunter’s IMDB page indicates she’s been in more than 250 pornographic flicks, and those are just things that IMDB reports; I’m sure in that line of work, there are plenty of direct-to-internet videos that go un-credited. Did we watch Smokin’ Cracks? Well, of course, curiosity got the better of us, but we skipped right to the scene with Hunter and could only stomach about four minutes of it. It’s far too raunchy for my taste. I’m not sure what I’ll do with it, exactly, but I have a feeling it might, in the near future, become a gag gift -- emphasis on “gag” – no really, you don’t know how true that is until you see the film, and trust me, you don’t want to. But you might want to check out Porn Star Karaoke at some point, because that was a pretty fun time. Those stuffy feminists I referred to in the first paragraph? They want to go back more than anyone. It just took a couple of drinks, and one of them was chanting “WE LOVE ANAL!” by the end of the night; I’m not sure that I’ve ever seen her behave in such a way before.

There’s a little porn star in all of us.

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