STRIPLV0918

striplvissue0918

Striplv Magazine - The Sexiest Magazine on the Planet, Issue 0918

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0918datingreviews mosaic DATING REVIEWS By Lainie Speiser If you ever want a cheap amusement while roaming through Amazon, punch in the name Lainie Speiser under books and read my book reviews. I’ve written six books, mostly about sex of course, and my reader reviews are the worst. And because of this, they are a fun read. For example, a review on my first book, “Threesomes: For Couples Who Want to Know More,” by someone named “Einstein,” (because nobody has the balls to put their real name on these bad reviews,) he/she gave me one star under the title of “Terrible,” They write: “Totally disliked the writing and the stories, seemed way to amarish, coudn’t hit the mark of excitement. The story leads you in to many area’s that didn’t fit what the cover of the book was suppose to be about.” Well Mr. or Miss Einstein, you made up a word, “amarish” and the rest of your sentence was horribly constructed, so rethink your Amazon moniker. Here’s another for my second book, “Hot Games for Mind-Blowing Sex,” from Hippie2MARS, with the title, “No Much Here for the Older Woman, Younger Man Scenario,” who found the photos in my book (featuring Penthouse Pets Krista Ayne and Heather Vandeven) troublesome. They gave me three stars and wrote, “I do have to say this book is great for setting the ground rules for sexual role-playing. The suggested scenarios are hot and sound like a lot of fun. However, there are a disproportionate number of role plays that employ the ‘Older Man, Younger Woman’ configuration, but NOTHING for those of us at the opposite end of the spectrum. I’d love to find a book that addresses real issues like body image and age differences. The pictures are all of a model couple, and it’s hard to imagine yourself in those same situations when you are and/or your partner are clearly not of the model variety. Just not my cup of tea. Most importantly, ‘letting go’ into a complete fantasy like this is really hard for some people, and the book really doesn’t address how to get past that mental roadblock. I’m rather dismayed that I spent the money on this one, when I didn’t really get a lot out of it.” Then there was my third book, “The Little Bit Naughty Book of Blowjobs,” which got a review from Patrick who says, “Don’t Waste Your Money,” and gave me one star with these precious words of warning, “Don’t waste your money. I cannot believe they are charging this price for a 6 inch tall novelity book. There are lett then 100 pages. I thought it was a legitimate book to read to improve performance.” Patrick, I’m sorry you wasted your money but how about proofreading your review before judging me? Just saying, it would have a stronger impact. But being that I’ve blown men who are both heterosexual and homosexual, I believe I am the authority. For my fifth book, “Confessions of the Hottest Hundred Porn Stars,” here’s a review by “hurtstothink4692,” who gave me five stars, which is the highest star rating you can get, and yet, he/she still shit on it with the title of, “Just Ok.” He/She wrote, ”To much nudity. Lol just kidding. It was a good and interesting and not worth the money. I would have been happier borrowing from the library but thats ok.” Hey if any of my books were in the local library I’d be thrilled. Anyway, bad reviews have never hurt my feelings. Like I say to my clients about scathing online comments, don’t worry about bad reviews, worry about no reviews because the opposite of love isn’t hate— it’s indifference. I suggest they count the comments instead of reading them and be happy when you get a lot because that means you moved people enough to take time out of their day to tell you how much you suck. But if you suck so bad, why would they give a shit even to tell you? I have also read bad reviews about me on YouTube and Reddit where I’ve been called a pimp, spooky doll or a monster, or that I’ve ruined radio with my annoying clients. Then they’re are all the anti-Semitic remarks. I apparently have the Jewy-est Jew-Face in the universe, like that’s a bad thing. Some of the comments will say how disgusting I look, but then admit they would either love to fuck me or would like to see me in a porn movie. It’s all very conflicting: I’m the gross chick whom you’d love to fuck. So yesterday when I heard I was mentioned in a book written by a former flame of mine, Gene Gregorits, I had to know if I got another bad review. But this time it was penned by a real writer, a good writer, and by someone who saw me naked and whose dick I had in my mouth. The book is called, “Bigger Than Life at the Edge of the City: A Novel,” and it came out last year, but this was the first I heard about it. I was tagged in a review of it by one of my favorite writers, Rob Rosen, who wrote an awesome book called, “Nowhere Man,” based on the diaries of John Lennon. Some years ago, when I worked with Rob Rosen in a series of monthly readings in the East Village, he told me we had a mutual friend, Gene Gregorits. “Gene told me you guys used to date,” he said. I was pleased to hear that. I wasn’t sure if what we did could be called a relationship, unlike today’s society who believe texting with someone you’ve never met on a weekly basis is dating. He lived in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania and I lived in New York and we would basically travel back and forth to hang out with each other for a week at a time when we would fuck each other’s brains out, drink heavily, do drugs, watch tons of movies and go to the occasional concert, namely to see his favorite band at the time Primal Scream. It was a short but intense courtship. We met when I emailed him asking if he would be interested in interviewing my client at the time, Evan Seinfeld (the leader of the band, Biohazard whom I was working for after porn star Tera Patrick (his wife at the time) told him I was a good publicist and worked cheap. Well, I imagine she said I worked cheap because he paid me so little I won’t even tell you how much. But I was in debt and desperate for any way to pay off my insanely high credit card bills. Gene had a magazine called, “Sex and Guts” with his then much older girlfriend Lydia Lunch, who I worshipped in my late teens and early 20s. Truth be told I emailed the inquiry to her, but I got him instead, telling me they no longer worked together, but he would consider my pitch. That leaded to emails that led to him asking for a photo, that led to him telling me I was gorgeous, that led to me telling him he was handsome, that led to late night phone calls that would last four hours, that led to me inviting him to come to NYC and hang out with me. But this wasn’t just any kind of seat-of-your-pants, devil-may-care hook up, for Gene is seven years younger than me (and incidentally kicked off my young stud period where I dated young pups in their 20s who could keep up with me in the sack) with a history of mental illness and cut himself whenever the mood hit him. Gene confessed this to me the night before he came to New York for that first visit because he knew he was going to take his shirt off and didn’t want to freak me out. “Do you still do that to yourself?” I asked concerned. I didn’t know much about cutters other than the fact it’s something done mostly by pubescent girls. “Oh no,no,” he assured me. “I don’t do that anymore it’s immature and stupid. I’m better now, but I look like the illustrated scar man. If that’s a deal breaker, I understand.” Honesty always earns you points with me, so I let it go and said come on down baby!

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