(no subject)
Yesterday was a looooot of fun. After studying all the live-long day I went to Angie's cast party for Die Fledermaus. The really flamboyant gay dancers are a lot of fun to talk to and listen to - apparently I told one he was handsome without realizing it, and Angie cringed a little. I also tried rum and Coke for the first time - next time I'll order it with vanilla rum, or at least dark rum. The drink with light rum (a LOT of light rum) tasted disgusting.
In any case, I got some very pleasant conversation out of the evening. I spoke with this one older couple at the bar (23 in Downtown Orlando - you can't get in until you're 23 years old, and I GOT TO SEE IT AT 20 HAHAHAHAHAHA *raspberry*. It even smelled ritzy - mahogany everywhere, and pyramids of liquor set against mirrored backdrops and a balcony to boot. Very much like a traditional British pub), and the man led a platoon of U.S. soldiers into a white area on the map in Vietnam. The area was under investigation because all helicopters flying over the area came back with crossbow bolts stuck in them! So this gent leads his platoon into the area in a stealthy infiltration. One of the troopers failed to notice a long vine strung across two tree trunks, and snapped it. Exactly what it sounded like - a tripwire. So this spear launches out of the thicket and the platoon leader hears his man loose a horrible scream. The spear had, miraculously, missed the trooper's vitals, but nonetheless pierced the tear gas canister strapped to his chest and propelled a stream of the pressurized fumes into his face. Stripped of the element of surprise, the contingent came upon the camp, long since abandoned due to the trooper's cry. They came upon a totem pole paying homage to creatures of power, represented in miniature as figurines of an elephant, a tiger, and more recently, a helicopter and a soldier with a gun. Behind this totem were the crossbows, strewn about on the ground before the entrance to a cave. Inside the smelly cavern the platoon leader discovered an old sword dating back to the days of the French Foreign Legion's occupation of Vietnam. The tribe in this uncharted territory was a remnant of the French Foreign Legion??
In-fuckin'-credible. Mention you're an anthropologist and you get all of these cool stories heaped upon your ever-learning head.
At around 7 p.m., Angie and I headed out with the idea of exploring Fairvilla. Quite educational, it was...I swear, as far as underwear goes women have it good. Silken nighties, flowery kimonos, leather and non-leather bodices with frill and trim and a bloody million different colors...the best a guy can get is a Speedo with the picture of an elephant on it. But maybe that's just the Americanization of that aforementioned, totemistic symbol of power.
Power in my pants, oh yes.
The highlight of the trip to the Megastore was browsing the lewd comic books, where I found something called Meet the Lovejoys, an erotic comic about a father-mother-daughter family of nymphomaniacs. When the fam decides their sexual addiction is spiraling out of control, they visit a psychologist, who prescribes a treatment of making home videos - pornographic home videos - and watching the final product ad nauseam, literally. Instead of curing themselves of their addictions, they get so heated up from watching their escapades that they spontaneously combust.
So remember, kids: Don't watch porn.
You might blow up.
Signing off,
Meado
In any case, I got some very pleasant conversation out of the evening. I spoke with this one older couple at the bar (23 in Downtown Orlando - you can't get in until you're 23 years old, and I GOT TO SEE IT AT 20 HAHAHAHAHAHA *raspberry*. It even smelled ritzy - mahogany everywhere, and pyramids of liquor set against mirrored backdrops and a balcony to boot. Very much like a traditional British pub), and the man led a platoon of U.S. soldiers into a white area on the map in Vietnam. The area was under investigation because all helicopters flying over the area came back with crossbow bolts stuck in them! So this gent leads his platoon into the area in a stealthy infiltration. One of the troopers failed to notice a long vine strung across two tree trunks, and snapped it. Exactly what it sounded like - a tripwire. So this spear launches out of the thicket and the platoon leader hears his man loose a horrible scream. The spear had, miraculously, missed the trooper's vitals, but nonetheless pierced the tear gas canister strapped to his chest and propelled a stream of the pressurized fumes into his face. Stripped of the element of surprise, the contingent came upon the camp, long since abandoned due to the trooper's cry. They came upon a totem pole paying homage to creatures of power, represented in miniature as figurines of an elephant, a tiger, and more recently, a helicopter and a soldier with a gun. Behind this totem were the crossbows, strewn about on the ground before the entrance to a cave. Inside the smelly cavern the platoon leader discovered an old sword dating back to the days of the French Foreign Legion's occupation of Vietnam. The tribe in this uncharted territory was a remnant of the French Foreign Legion??
In-fuckin'-credible. Mention you're an anthropologist and you get all of these cool stories heaped upon your ever-learning head.
At around 7 p.m., Angie and I headed out with the idea of exploring Fairvilla. Quite educational, it was...I swear, as far as underwear goes women have it good. Silken nighties, flowery kimonos, leather and non-leather bodices with frill and trim and a bloody million different colors...the best a guy can get is a Speedo with the picture of an elephant on it. But maybe that's just the Americanization of that aforementioned, totemistic symbol of power.
Power in my pants, oh yes.
The highlight of the trip to the Megastore was browsing the lewd comic books, where I found something called Meet the Lovejoys, an erotic comic about a father-mother-daughter family of nymphomaniacs. When the fam decides their sexual addiction is spiraling out of control, they visit a psychologist, who prescribes a treatment of making home videos - pornographic home videos - and watching the final product ad nauseam, literally. Instead of curing themselves of their addictions, they get so heated up from watching their escapades that they spontaneously combust.
So remember, kids: Don't watch porn.
You might blow up.
Signing off,
Meado