Re: Catholic Upbringing
It's now eleven-tumpty-tum of Sunday evening. The clothes I am wearing are still soaked in the residue of Smirnoff mixed drinks (Cape Cod/Twisted Cosmo/Blueberry Lemonade/White Grape/Passion Breeze) and my desk is covered in flyers for fetish events. It's been a very long three days, I'm very tired, and I should be going to sleep. Instead, I write this because I'm not quite ready for bed, and because it'll give Leah something to read.
In honor of Whit returning from National Guard deployment and getting dumped, I took him to see Wanted and to the Centerfolds strip club. Honestly, Wanted was more entertaining and hella cheaper.
I had ZERO interest in seeing Wanted. It's based on a comic book series that I found to be a disgusting revenge fantasy, the trailer and the clips I saw at Wondercon looked stupid, and I'm not a big Angelina Jolie fan. I know she exists and therefore SOMEONE must find her interesting and attractive, but she's gotten a bit uninteresting over the years. I happily expressed my disinterest in the movie to anyone who cared to listen, and lo and behold, the fucking thing turned out not half bad. It corrected every problem I had with the book and it was a solid (if dopey) summer action flick with a lead I actually liked. Plus Angelina Jolie gets what's coming to her, so all in all it's a win-win.
Strip clubs.......meh, not so much.
Whit was pretty rarin' to go, so I was a game fellow. Dude did have some romantic troubles of late, and sometimes a guy just needs to vent. My Stupid Catholic Upbringing (tm) keeps me from being overly comfortable in places like that, but you gotta let that shit go at some point in your life. But I learned quite quickly that there is very little point to going to a strip club if you don't gots no bills to drop.
Oh, I had enough to get in the DOOR, mind you. But going to a strip club is like going to a county fair: the ticket price only gets you in. You gotta pay extra money to (ahem) ride the rides. Whit had some cheddar to spread around, and had a nice little evening with a girl named Summer. I mostly sat around, turning down lapdances from people, and feeling bored. I think that if you have the money, if you can engage the festivities, then you can get around the weirdness of the whole thing. If you don't then you're left with watching the same people perform the same dances with the same bored expression on their face and then gathering their money and putting on their clothes with the same strange modesty.
We were at Centerfolds, a club where one of Leah's co-workers from TZ works in some unspecified capacity. I gotta admit, I was nervous about running into her, too. Really, what do you tell that person? "Uh, I'm just here 'cuz Leah's friend is feeling down and wanted to come and besides she already knows about it?" No.
Anyway, it all got REEEAAAALLLY absurd during the shower show. You had to pay five dollars to go watch two women take a shower together and (theoretically) use a dildo on each other. Whit and I paid our five bucks (I love the legitimate theatre) and we sat down with a bunch of howling thuggin' kids and middle aged women (????) for the show.
The curtain to the blue tiled shower room goes back and an amazonian tattooed Asian woman started showering with a slender blonde Eastern European. People was a-hootin' and hollerin', and you could go up to the dancers and press dollars to their wet breasts. I suppose this is enticing, but to get forward you'd have to elbow your way through a throng of young men circling the tub and saying "Awwwwww yeeeeaaaahhhh....." Fellow denizens of these outings, have you ever noticed how childlike the young guys who go in groups are?
After a suitable amount of time passed, the burly unpleasant bouncers started demanding that the audience contribute $150 to see the show. Fine. Whit was paying and they WERE going to do themselves up proper-style. I donated his $5 and after severe heckling from the bouncers and the horny impatient patrons, eventually the large clique of women donated the bulk. After they got the $150, the bouncers demanded another $150. They threaten to close the curtain and end the show, but no one really donates more. The girls start, the crowd once again surges forward, and I watch the rest of the show staring at the backs of the other patrons.
Eventually I wander out and read a book.
As for volunteering, I wind up working the Folsom Street Fair Smirnoff table ("We Whip For Tips!") Yesterday was pretty dead, giving me plenty of time to chat people up and socialize with others around me. I make a lot of new aquaintances inside and outside the booth (I do like how friendly people are) and end the day hanging out with a photographer I met while waiting in line for deep fried oreos.
Today was like selling drinks to a human wall. A non-stop human wall of shirtless men. It never ended.
I have handled cash for years, and my dad used to have me work the popcorn booth at the San Rafael county fair. I am proud to say that I was able to pull in a lot of people by calling out double entendres and vicious puns for hours. The typical booth sales technique of chatting amiably to your friends while occasionally being interrupted by a sale seemed to be counterproductive, and I can't say I didn't feel looked down upon for calling shit out. Eventually I didn't have to be clever anymore and I just had to take money, check IDs and move cups into hands.
This went on for hours. It was fun but absolutely exhausting. Eventually, "Buddy" and his girlfriend "Chum" showed up and I got the booth's flog mistresses to give "Chum" a taste of our deviant lifestyle. "Chum" whipped the heck out of Kia and took a helluva beating from the other lady whose name I don't recall. Good for you, "Chum". I knew you had it in you.
Strange observations about the fair:
Most gay guys make me feel very out of shape.
I'm a pretty open-minded dude, but it trips me out to see two guys dressed gangsta holding hands. That shit's some cognitive dissonance.
It's distressingly easy to pick up attractive straight women there. They're very relaxed, much more friendly than hetero social situations, and are often unaccompanied by tight-ass heteros. Either that or I am very charming.
I can usually roll with flirting and sexy innuendo, but every now and again my wit fails me and I look like a doofus, standing there waiting for a clever response to come. I am, of course, referring to the trio of Asian pretty boys who wanted to show my bite marks.
I must be pretty goddamn fucking broke if I considered FOR HALF A SECOND letting a guy blow me for pay. Seriously.
Couples tend to look very similar after awhile.
Why the fuck is the Scion the official car of SF Pride 2008?
I find it strange that the SFPD has a big recruitment drive in place at the festival, and I found it stranger that the guy with the fully tattooed head hung out there for hours.
Hearing "I will survive" by Gloria Gaynor eighteen times is NOT a good thing.
Chicks from Sacramento pretty much act like loud drunk townies.
Smirnoff booth babes (and their Pride parade Booth Trannies) are the greatest thing ever. I need sleep.
Love you all, you fabulous people.
j.