boymeat: (bork - made by ozw)
2009-05-07 10:19 am

Twitter love. Mancrush. Whatever.

I feel like my life is enriched due to the fact that I can read often brilliant tweets from the frighteningly genius Warren Ellis.

Just from this morning alone:

  • I am returned from the pub. You are delighted. Dance for me and flap your arms in the air like Kermit The Cocaine Frog now.
  • I am going down the pub. This was essential information to you. You are glad to have learned of it.
  • @arivindabraham I'm afraid I have nowhere to put an intern. There's something already in the basement, and it has tentacles. Sorry.
Love love love.
boymeat: (Default)
2009-05-07 09:07 am

Take this, Mr. Old Guard.

If this is old traditional leather, I'm in. Here is a community that a friend of mine (hi there!) found on FetLife:

Gay Masochists Who Occasionally Enjoy Being Bathed in Tapioca Pudding While Listening to Rush by a Transgenderqueer Pansexual Named Robert Who Calls Himself Mr. Ball Gag Bob.

I'm too intimidated to join, though. I don't think I'm hardcore enough.

Edit: And of course, FetLife being Fetlife, there is the group formed our of a political split from the original. The new group?

Gay Masochists Who Regularly Enjoy Being Bathed in Tapioca Pudding While Listening to Rush by a Transgenderqueer-identifying Polysexual  Named Richard Who Calls Himself Mr. Ball Gag Dick. 
boymeat: (1/2 Pound of Boymeat)
2009-05-06 01:24 pm

And Maine makes 5.

The governor of Maine just signed into law the right to gay marriage.

Wow. The momentum is rising.
boymeat: (loser - made by ozw)
2009-05-06 09:38 am

Dear Phil, you idiot.

Dear Phil,

Please stop getting involved in pointless arguments about leather protocols and history on FetLife with people who refuse to remove their heads from the holes they are in. You have learned this lesson before, and yet you insist on continuing. May I suggest you bang your head against a brick wall instead? The bricks will accept your argument much quicker, you will feel a much greater sense of accomplishment and satisfaction, and the resulting major trauma will allow you to forget all about FetLife.

Love, your caring and loving self,
Phil
boymeat: (1/2 Pound of Boymeat)
2009-05-05 01:26 pm

Sad.

One of my favorite comedic actors, Dom DeLuise, passed away yesterday. I'm so sad to know that there will never be another DeLuise/Reynolds movie made.

He was also my auto mechanic's first cousin. I wonder if I should call the shop to give my regrets. Maybe a card.

Sad.
boymeat: (foamy love)
2009-05-04 09:49 am

What fills the space is key.

As those who have visited my home in the past know all full well... I can be a bit of a slob.

When left to my own devices, my apartment sometimes gets forgotten in the hustles and bustles of life. Clothes get thrown on the floor, newspapers and boxes completely and totally succeed at avoiding the recycling room downstairs, and various scraps of paper and wrappers fail to find their way to the trash receptacle.

Would one go as far as calling it a bachelor pad? Perhaps... though I think bachelor pads are generally cleaner.

So when [livejournal.com profile] kathryntact came up to NY last Friday for her final visit to NY as a non-New Yorker, I was both ecstatic and scared out of my wits. Ecstatic to see her and have her going to slumber and waking up with me daily for a week. Yet, horrified because she would see that state of my apartment and truly decide that beheading me would be a much more satisfying option than living with me.

Thankfully, I am still in possession of my head, one week later. But it was close. Real close.

It was a week of cleaning (more her than me), apologizing (so much of the me), time with friends, dining in, snuggling on the couch watching TV, geeking out on books or video games, and sex. (Gotta slip the sex in there.) In one week, my apartment has transformed itself from tornado victim to... home.

Her books are on the shelves next to mine. Her DVDs mingle and party with mine. A photo of her mother clutching a baby Kathryn sits on the shelves next to the bed. It feels good.

[livejournal.com profile] kathryntact drove back home yesterday afternoon, and I did not feel sadness per se as I knew it will be mere weeks until we see each other again, and then begin seeing each other a whole lot more (i.e. daily, living together, oh dear lord she's gonna learn to hate me kind of thing.) Instead of sadness, I felt loneliness.

You see, a clean apartment is a wonderful thing, yes. But all that clutter that I had before takes up space. Lots of it. And it makes the apartment feel crowded and tight and cramped. But now that everything is where it should be, after bags and boxes of stuff leaving the apartment for parts unknown, after the great reveal of more floorspace than anyone ever knew I had... the apartment is open. Way open. Wide clean empty spaces everywhere you look.

And it's lonely in there now. I laid in bed last night looking around my apartment, and wondered what was missing.

And I can honestly say [livejournal.com profile] kathryntact was missing. It doesn't feel like home without her now.
boymeat: (1/2 Pound of Boymeat)
2009-05-03 10:34 pm

Searching for bad 80's TV.

Pardon me as I publicly humiliate myself here.

Would any of you know how or where to get the collections of BJ and the Bear or Sheriff Lobo on DVD? My google-foo reveals a lot of schlocky looking companies that I wouldn't trust my pet rock to.

Anyone? I need my bad 80's TV fix.
boymeat: (dilbert hit keyboard)
2009-04-21 09:59 am

Suddenly, ass raping.

It suddenly got crazy busy at work for me. I'm in the middle of a big project that is incredibly detail oriented and requires lots of specific letters and numbers to be communicated and if anything screws up all fingers will point at me and my client will yell and then my boss will take a lava lamp and break it off inside my ass.

That is... if he would ever even consider touching a lava lamp. (He wouldn't. Not in a million years.)

This is after a week in which when immediately returning from Frolicon I was briefed on what happened at the office during my days off by bending over and getting repeatedly fucked up my ass without any lube whatsoever and then was sent off back into the wild with threats of more painful buggery.

So, to sum up: Last week and this week are/were giant run-on sentences with lots of painful and not pleasurable anal sex.

That is all.
boymeat: (Default)
2009-04-14 04:43 pm

Work is sadly not Frolicon.

Being back at work after a whirlwind weekend through an adult playground frankly sucks.

I have not beaten or hit or made out or touched anyone in a sexual manner today.

I am wearing a button down shirt and an argyle sweater vest to fit in at work, as opposed to wearing leather jeans and a t-shirt to get ready for play.

I am in work meetings, as opposed to teaching classes on SM.

I am getting yelled at by my boss, as opposed to pretty girls yelling ouch at me.

I had to encourage myself to get a full night of sleep last night in preparation of waking up at 7:00 AM this morning, as opposed to saying fuck it and staying up horrendously late and not caring that I would only have 4-5 hours of sleep before I'm set to teach.

I have eaten fast food for lunch... wait... that's not so different.

Kathryn isn't here. Blah.

Lolita isn't here. Blah.

My family isn't here. Blah.

Scantily clad girls and boys aren't making my tongue waggle every time I turn my head. BLAH!
boymeat: (Default)
2009-04-14 10:37 am

Frolicon vs. SM events - compare and contrast.

One of the hallmarks of a SM 101 class is teaching all the different terms and phrasing the SM community has. Every community has its own language, and in order to better navigate it knowledge of some terms helps.

Words like top, bottom, switch, scene, toys, etc.

When you attend an event like Frolicon, the need to understand the words becomes doubly important. Here is an event that is chock full of SM, but isn't a SM event, and takes inspiration much more from Sci-Fi events than SM. While most the following words seem intuitive, it is an interesting thing to contrast and compare.

SM Event
Frolicon
EventCon
PresentersGuests
Vending AreaDealer Room
ClassesPanels

There are other major differences.

At a SM event, there is no photography. At Frolicon, cameras are everywhere, and almost everyone wants to see themselves in photos. One thing that does remain the same in both events is that photography is not allowed in the dungeon. Players still get their privacy.

At a SM event, there is no drinking encouraged. Occasionally the hotel bar will be open, but all official events are dry. At Frolicon, there are drinks everywhere. There are official events like the Party Battles (where party hosts compete for being the best party of Saturday night), the Concoction contest (best drink), etc. Now again, there are some similarities. No drinking is allowed in the dungeon (hell, no outside drinks period), and if you seem to be drunk, you're out.

What I like about the above is that the conference assumes that you are an adult, and that you are responsible for your own actions. From their own rulebook posted on the website:

"Rule #1 - Do not be an idiot – If you insist on acting like an idiot, Frolicon can and will boot out without giving you a refund. If in doubt about any of the following rules, always consider this one first."

I've seen so many SM groups and events feel it necessary to hand hold their members and attendees every step of the way. And yes, I understand that there are social idiots out there, and that the SM community sometimes seems to draw them out even more. Yet events like Frolicon manage to exist fairly barrier free (the only real one being having a minimum age of 21 because of all the drinking), and still manages to provide one hell of a good time without being taken over by the idiots. How? Why?

Things to ponder over, certainly.

boymeat: (Default)
2009-04-13 11:33 pm

What is Frolicon?

Frolicon is... fine dining. Ruby Tuesdays twice in one day, Waffle House twice in one day.

Frolicon is... lack of sleep. But who can sleep when there is Frolicon?

Frolicon is... loaded classrooms. 30-40 people for piss play, 60-70 people for flogging, 90-100 people for electricity.

Frolicon is... traveling in packs. From walking through the event with my love ([livejournal.com profile] kathryntact), my family ([livejournal.com profile] lolitasir, [livejournal.com profile] holey1, and [livejournal.com profile] mglthr), the official hangers on ([livejournal.com profile] kathryntact again and [livejournal.com profile] cheshlthr), to our expanding pack of southern perverts which included [livejournal.com profile] taliakit, [livejournal.com profile] nightmareredux, [livejournal.com profile] dreamertheresa, [livejournal.com profile] feyrieprincess, [livejournal.com profile] sirwinterwolf, [livejournal.com profile] mistresslego, [livejournal.com profile] tgrey, [livejournal.com profile] femmetron1, [livejournal.com profile] fetishcuriosity and my lovely step-daughter [livejournal.com profile] souda and her Daddy.

Frolicon is... bedlam. More parties than one human can possibly attend, and a line sometimes 15-20 deep waiting to get into the dungeon.

Frolicon is... a place to play with your friends. I played with no one new, which is completely different than the norm. But I played with friends and strengthened our bonds and our connections, which I want to be the norm.

Frolicon is... hot fucking play. From the masturbation party, to the strap-on party, to the dark room parties, to the dungeon, people were getting off everywhere. I predictably spent my time in the dungeon, but I definitely had my share of the hotness.

Frolicon is... singletailing sessions that make one faint. She passed out, she burst into hysterical crying and laughing, and she came. All while scaring the ever living bejeesus out of [livejournal.com profile] kathryntact and I. (And I'd do it again right now if I could.)

Frolicon is... is NOT a traditional SM/leather event. And praise be to all the gods and goddesses for it. A welcome change of scenery, and a breath of fresh air.

Frolicon is... letting your freak flag fly high. A literal adult playground with joys and ecstasies and revelations for all. If you did not have a good time, it's your fault, not theirs.

Frolicon is... a place for growth. In the midst of all the Dionysian delights, couples can face challenges. It is heartening to learn that they can.

Frolicon is... the only thing that at all makes me wish to live in the south. But I'm not moving.

Frolicon is... taking Monday off to reground yourself on reality. I feel no shame. OK, maybe a little. ;-)
boymeat: (Default)
2009-04-08 02:13 pm

Where Boymeat will be.



Where I will definitely be.

April 9-12 - Frolicon, Atlanta
Teaching Flogging, Piss Play, & Electricity

June 20 - Leather Pride Night, NYC
Tally Deity

June 21 - Folsom Street East, NYC

July 2-5 - TES Fest 2009, NYC/NJ
Teaching 3 classes TBD

July 17-19 - Thunder in the Mountains, Denver
Teaching Co-Topping (with [livejournal.com profile] lolitasir), Metal Bondage (with [livejournal.com profile] lolitasir), and probably Incest Play

October 23-25 - Kinky Kollege, Chicago
Teaching Piss Play & Incest Play

Where I might be.

May 21-25 - International Mr. Leather, Chicago

June 24-29 - Leather Retreat, the wilds of northern Maryland

September 16-21 Dark Odyssey, the wilds of northern Maryland

October 30 - November 2 - Black Rose, Washington DC
boymeat: (1/2 Pound of Boymeat)
2009-04-07 11:39 am

1st to announce the 4th.

Since no one else has, I guess I'll post about it.

Vermont makes four.

46 to go.
boymeat: (Default)
2009-04-06 09:09 pm

Me and my wimminz.

This photo rocks the house that is rocked.

From IMsL.



Oh noes. I has no shirtz.

That's [livejournal.com profile] lolitasir on the left, and [livejournal.com profile] kathryntact on the right, natch.
boymeat: (bork - made by ozw)
2009-04-06 10:57 am

Schmaltz this!



The above photo depicts a table at the legendary Sammy's Roumanian restaurant in the Lower East Side of NYC. Two of the required foodstuffs are included in this photo - seltzer (in blue), and schmaltz (in yellow). For years and years and years I've wanted to go here, but could never find someone masochistic enough to join me in the artery hardening glory of Sammy's.

Until this past Friday.

Mmmm schmaltz.

Of course, now I'm literally obsessed with the word schmaltz. Poor [livejournal.com profile] kathryntact has had to put up with me using schmaltz in almost every sentence imaginable. "Boy, I'd like to dip my stick in your schmaltz." Or, "oh yeah, schmaltz me baby."

Sounds like a great idea for a meme on a rainy Monday. Give me your most schmaltzy sentence!

For more Sammy's fun, click the building on each page here to get a visual display of their egg cream magic.
boymeat: (Default)
2009-04-01 10:44 pm

Rant conclusion.

A few people have been asking me when my part three will be coming out. (See Rant 1 here, and Rant 2 here.) To be honest, after writing the first two, my anger and frustration was voiced. Soon after that I went to IMsL and I experienced everything that can be and is good in this community. I felt and experienced and was awash in everything that I consider worth fighting for... worth ranting about. IMsL was the ultimate package that demonstrated all that is good in our scene that call SM/Leather/Fetish.

But I got inspired to say something tonight.

I was watching Bloodsisters tonight. A constant theme in this landmark documentary is how the Leather Dyke scene had to fight so hard to get to where they were that day. That constant activism was and is needed in order to allow us our freedom to seek out our pleasures in life. Pat Califia spoke very candidly about his history in the scene, how much he had to fight, and how he became a champion for social change.

And then he expressed an interesting point. He talked about young dykes who were coming out and could step directly into their leather lives without the fights and struggles within the self and with greater society as in years past. And then Pat said it... it took him back, but then he was able to feel pride because his struggles for social change had succeeded - that he enabled future generations to live their lives to their fullest and with their own definitions.

The ability to define ourselves. To define our lives. To define our lifestyles, and our desires, and our very inner beings.

This is what frustrates me the most about the constant old vs. new debates. Why I feel so hurt by my elders when they try to kick me down.

Because they don't realize that in some very magical, important ways, they won.

I'm 32. I didn't have to fight the sex wars. I wasn't alive during the great Summer of Love. I was 3 during the 1st March on Washington in 1979. I was 11 for the second in 1987, the first to have a major SM/Leather presence. I was in high school during the 3rd in 1993, still not knowing the leather community even existed.

But my elders, and the elders who I struggle against at times, they were there. They marched, they fought, they spoke, they rallied.

And they did it for me. And you. So that we could be included. So that we could be recognized. So we coud live our lives peacefully with our own definitions.

So whenever someone goes their own way, does their own thing, creates their own style and traditions and way of life - we celebrate your victories. We are the result of your efforts. We are the living expressions of everything you fought for.

Maybe we don't say thank you enough. That might be true. So allow me to say it here - thank you. Because of your amazing efforts, I am allowed to live my life.
boymeat: (bork - made by ozw)
2009-03-31 05:08 pm

A rare (ok, not that rare, really) glimpse into my relationship.

Some of you have previously marveled at the Boymeat and [livejournal.com profile] kathryntact show seen at various SM events around the country. You might think that such wacky, frivolous, and downright Muppet-esque behavior is reserved for public events, and that when we are in person we are much more sedate.

You would be wrong.

See, after almost two years of relationship amazingness, it has become quite evident that the show you see at events is actually precisely what takes place day after day after day. In fact, the mere notion that we will be living together* come the end of May should have television producers banging down our door for the publishing rights.

For example, I will give you an exchange that occurred today through e-mail. These e-mails are all copied here verbatim for your pleasure.

Kathryn - RAWR
Boymeat - Moo.
K - Mrow.
B - Oink.
K - Sqeek.
B - Ribbit.
K - Cluck.
B - Quack.
K - Tweet.
B - Chirp.
K - Neigh.
B - Woof.
K - Whimper.
B - Hot.
K - Hee.
B - Lick.
K - Moan.
B - Thrust.
K - Squirm.
B - Choke.
K - Gasp.
B - Grind.
K - Twitch.
B - Punch.
K - Bite.
B - Restrain.
K - Shudder.
B - Cum.
K - Swallow.
B - Smoke.
K - Laugh.
B - Hee.
K - Rawk.
B - Hell's...
K - Erm.
B - ...yeah.
K - D'oh.

* Like how I snuck that in there? I'm such a stinker. Hee!
boymeat: (Default)
2009-03-26 02:55 pm

IMsL Part 2 - Being a Cis-Gendered Male at a Women's Event.

This was the third IMsL I've been in attendance for, having previously attended 1999 in Las Vegas and 2000 in Toronto. One of the large differences of this event was that in the previous two, I hardly left [livejournal.com profile] lolitasir's side, attending more or less as her guest. This time, I set my own path and stood on my own two feet.

Being a cis-gendered/biological male at a women's event can be intimidating. It's even more so when you do not identify as a gay man, but as a bisexual who predominantly dates women. The risks are mighty.

Risks of offending people with my hetero-normative sexuality.

Risks of overstepping boundaries that are not easily seen or felt.

Risks of invading a space that was designed and created for a different community subset than I am a part of.

I know first hand about the sacredness of special spaces. Having a hand in the creation of TNG has made me very protective of the right to safe space for specific subgroups of people. While IMsL is open to everyone, it makes no secret of the fact that it was created and designed to serve the women's SM/leather community. It is well known to me that I am there as a guest, not neccessarily as a part of its intended target audience.

To be invited to teach in such a space makes my presence an even higher honor, and exposes me to even more risk. For now I have responsibility on a larger scale.

Glenda/[livejournal.com profile] makeplayhappen in all her sadistic glory invited me to teach piss play at IMsL this year. I immediately accepted, and then realized what I was stepping into. Teaching piss play to dykes? Pulling out my bio-cock to piss on a girl in front of a group of queer/trans/lesbians/dykes? *gulp!*

So how does one navigate all of these potential pitfalls and help contribute to a more successful event for yourself and for others?

Through my years of being in a leather family made primarily of dykes, and having [livejournal.com profile] lolitasir slapping the upside of my head countless times in my youth, here is what I've learned:

1) You are there to make friends, not play partners. Go in with a friendly, non-threatening attitude that welcomes friendship while at the same time never presents itself as you trying to "score" with people who's sexualities differ from yours. Recognize that they are there to play with people with different gender/sexuality presentations than you, and be content with friendship and camaraderie.

2) Do not hit on people! If anything, let them hit on you. Now, that sounds cocky, but it isn't. Do not operate under the assumption that you will be hit on, and certainly do not hit on others. I let play opportunities present themselves naturally, without force, and without any expectations. When others signal interest, I am even more thankful for the opportunity, and I show that appreciation.

3) Do not shy away from your gender/sexuality, but don't flaunt it either. I am not embarrassed to be a cis-gendered male, nor am I embarrassed about my bisexuality. When I taught my piss play class, I was upfront with my biological package, and my sexuality. I am proud of who I am, and I do not shy away from it when asked. That being said, my dick had very little involvement with people I interacted with at IMsL. Heterosexual men are known for making it all about their cock. My cock stays far the fuck away unless invited first.

4) Be helpful, involve yourself into the event, volunteer, and be active. One of the major risks of being a cis-gendered male at this kind of event is being thought to be there to "try to score some hot lesbian chicks." And unfortunately, this mentality DOES exist, and it makes my job as a cis-gendered male so much more difficult. I combat this by becoming involved. I help out... I ask if anything needs to be done. I demonstrate that I'm there to support the event, not to get my rocks off.

5) Know when to shut up and disappear. There are moments at the event that aren't made for you. And this goes beyond the female/trans-only play spaces. There are shared moments of attraction, sentimentality, etc. that happen in public that should be given honor to. Doing honor to these moments sometimes means removing yourself and letting people have their moment without you present. It's OK.

6) Do not assume one's gender presentation!!! Granted, this comes out of trans 101, but with the burgeoning queer populace at SM events, this point is even more important. Politely and respectively ask people what pronouns they prefer. Do not assume what someone calls their genitalia. For example, in my piss play class, I constantly referred to lower genitalia as "stuff." It's a cute, lackadaisical word, but it also helped me avoid using blanket terms like cunt, vagina, cock, etc. when people can define their parts differently. One woman accused me of not being able to say the word "vagina," clearly because I was male. I answered no, that I was being respectful to all gender presentations. It was the right answer.
boymeat: (Default)
2009-03-26 10:41 am

IMsL Part One - Love and Lust.

Ranting will have to be pushed aside for now. Because now good feelings are washing over my body, and I must give in to them.

It's hard to come up with the words about how amazing this past weekend was. How much pride I felt in who I am and who I choose to surround myself with. How much love I felt from those I love back. How much caring was shown for others. How much sheer lust pulsated through that event that it could be felt dripping off the walls and ceiling. How much amazingly scorching hot play happened. 
 
I'm flabbergasted, really. 
 
When I sit back today and reminisce, I forget all the bad things. I forget all about my misplaced luggage that I just had returned to me, the panic of losing my cell phone to then have it returned Tuesday afternoon by an amazing samaritan. 
 
I can only feel two things... love, and lust. 
 
Lust. 
 
Let's face it, there was a lot of it. 
 
The look of my girl's eyes boring into mine as my piss flows in streams over her body during my class. How the attendees melted away for the briefest of seconds as our eyes locked and we shared with each other the most intimate of sex acts. How her mouth opened and tasted my stream, an educational act turned into one of devious desire. 
 
Seeing all of the class attendees smiling and writhing in their seats afterwords. 
 
The sounds of a lovely British girl gasping and moaning as we stepped out of the LJ/Fetlife/Twitter world and entered into real life.

The excitement of a hot, hot, HOT butch who I purchased in the Celebrity Auction who finally got to writhe in masochistic heaven in a scene that blurred reality altogether.

The looks of lust in the friend who received me as a gift from the Celebrity Auction, having not bottomed in a year and a half, trusting me and wanting me to bring her back to that place. The sounds when clothespins are whipped off the body into the air, followed by the giggles afterwords.

The sheer pleasure bouncing off the walls as the hottest man in NYC dressed in a luche libre mask bottomed to two gender warriors as we all watched and shared in the joy.

Watching my sister singletail a close and dear friend, and feeling the release of hunger that came with it.

The feel of Cinderella's tongue after she tried on Prince Charming's panties oh so briefly, foreshadowing possible future encounters.

Watching family members give in to the urges and show their deviant selves, proving all the way that I was born to be in this family.

The taste of blood on my lips as the thorns of a rose cane pierced my love over and over again, to then be whipped into frenzy afterwords. Our tongues entwined sharing our essences.

Lust was certainly everywhere you looked. Everywhere you touched. Everywhere you walked.

And it was backed by love.

Deep rooted love that grounded us. Made us strong. Akin to the roots of a tree, keeping us in place and binding us to the safety and sureness that we need to truly live.

Love from family.

Love from friends.

Love from partners.

The love felt from just sitting with your pack, sharing in the joys and the spectacles.

The love that makes you leap to a friend in need. When a scene goes awry, and after the bottom has been treated and dealt with, your love for a friend brings you to him to hold his hand, stroke his hair, and make the bad softly drift away. The love that enables you to be there at those moments, instinctively, immediately, without any doubt.

The love for people who you have not seen in months, or even years, that enables you to fall into each others arms as if we last graced each others presence only yesterday. 

The love for my partner who trusted me when panic reared it's head, allowing me to bring her into an uncomfortable place and make it hot and wonderful and delicious, especially when no one was watching.

Lust and love. Love and lust. Which is the egg, and which is the chicken? Did they hatch in consecutive order, or did it all explode at the same time, transcending biology and the other sciences and turning into something otherworldly?

IMsL 2009 had both in riches. And we got to bathe in its spoils.

I'm still counting my treasures.
boymeat: (foamy domination)
2009-03-09 11:35 pm

Found on Twitter.

I will be posting Part Three of my rant soon.

In the meantime, it's time to come out of the closet.

I have a Twitter. Shame, shame, I know.

I've been in the closet about it for quite some time. But then I Live-Twittered Nayland's Gorge performance, and I was forced out of my hiding.

You can probably guess my Twitter name.

Anyway, once in a while, I like to search for "Boymeat" in their search engine. Because sometimes people reference me and I don't know about it. Today, I stumbled upon a gem.

Random Twitterer: "Checked to see if Boomkat record label was on Twitter,it asked me if I meant 'boymeat' No,I did not mean that,but thanks Twitter"

That's right. I'm in ur Twitterz, stealin' urz musics.