The Long and Short of it

I grew up in a dysfunctional working class family, the only child of a horny alcoholic father and strict conservative mother. Shy and awkward in my teen years, I was laughed at when I auditioned for the South Shore High School cheerleading squad. Then the Beatles came along and saved me.

The 60's swung. British music invaded American consciousness just as my teenage hormones were kicking into overdrive. Bulging crotches and catchy rockin' tunes evolved into a whirlwind of primitive sexual attraction for me. My best friend "Pest" and I tried to find ways to meet the gorgeous men who made this awesome music. But we were up against a lot of (mostly female) competition in the hotel corridors.

One fateful day in college, a homework assignment from my art teacher to plaster cast "something solid that could retain its shape" proved to change my life forever. Pest and I decided to ask band members in town that weekend with the Dick Clark Caravan of Stars if we could cast their solid something's. Popping the question to Paul Revere and the Raiders did not result in a cast. More importantly, I lost my virginity! "The Plaster Casters of Chicago" were thus born.

We had found ourselves the perfect gimmick - something that could make us stand out from all the other teenyboppers and groupies. All we had to do was find a penis-friendly substance to make negative impressions with.

For 2 years we trotted around an official-looking "kit," seeking out musicians willing to let us experiment on them with wax or clay. Even though a single cock had never been casted, word got out through the rock n' roll grapevine about a pair of kinky casting maniacs. Then Pest fell in love with a civilian and was replaced by Dianne - just as the Jimi Hendrix Experience were about to come to town.

Now I REALLY had to get my shit together. I talked 2 of my male friends into dipping their dicks into a dental mold called alginates. And it worked! Now I was ready for Big Jimi.

The band came to Chicago, Jimi said "Yeah!" and became the first rockstar to pose for us. Dianne was the designated "plater" (blow-job giver) while I was the mold mixer. The cast came out somewhat cracked, but it was a real beaut!

Suddenly Dianne and I found ourselves thrust into the limelight of the mainstream media that was more interested in cock than rock 'n roll motivation. A rumour even circulated that we could only achieve orgasm by casting. And the collection grew.

Then I met Frank Zappa, who recognized the humour as well as an art form and commercial value in this plaster "madness." Sans Dianne (now retired from Casterdom), Frank relocated me to Los Angeles, a veritable groupie heaven, to cast more penises for a possible exhibition. Eventually the idea got shelved because of a shortage of celebrity cock in the collection. I moved back to Chicago and got a straight job, but my enthusiasm for music and musicians never waned.

When I left L.A., my sweet babies were entrusted to Herb Cohen, Frank Zappa's business partner at the time. Herb felt the casts should be kept in a safe place like his house vault until the time was right to exhibit them. Years later, he claimed they were HIS babies! I had to go to court to retrieve them - and won.

Over the years I've learned a lot about myself and the world via my groupie exploits. Like who I am, what my strengths are - and the god-like ones' weaknesses. Losing weight and gaining self-confidence has made a lot of groovy things happen (click on the UpCumming Events dick to find out HOW groovy!) And FINALLY I've incorporated a tit-casting wing to my collection - oh so overdue! Nowadays I find myself in the unlikely position of being a fan with fans. Total role reversal! A long way from South Shore High School!