Stories, stories...Let's see here. Recap.
Sunday the 7th. Sunset Strip finals. 6 crazy bitches dancing on a pole for our enjoym---er, judging pleasure. Some ridiculously 'talented' ladies. *cough*. It comes down to a wire, and we have a tie. Fiona and Pantera both claim the crowns, and the coveted covers of Exotic Underground. But what stripper contest would be complete without dudes in drag? Dane the host and John the editor duke it out in an epic drag-battle. Flashdance wins out over drugged up hooker.
Tuesday the 9th. The show must go on. Tonight's topics of discussion: Lover's Knot; a sort of erotic yoga meant for two. Very sexy. Orgasmic Women: 13 Self-Loving Divas, by Betty Dodson. Latest in a long line of sex documentaries by the old vixen. Sexier still. And a healthy dose of Goody Bag TV.
Wensday the 10th. Play party at the studio. So many beautiful people. There's nothing like a hot tub, with a glass of wine, some fine chocolate, and a bunch of hot naked people. Details are sparse. I'm still sore.
Friday the 12th. Someone pissed on me. Like, literally. I happened to be out drinking with some buddies from work. I take my leave, and hit the bathroom. One of the drunker patrons was having no trouble with his pants, them being around his ankles. There was also no dividers between the urinals. But, aiming seemed a little bit beyond him at his point, as I soon found out. He pissed right on my foot. I quickly shoved him the other direction, only to watch him miss the urinal again, just from the other side. I really, really regret wearing sandals about now.
Saturday the 13th. Sunny, sunny day. I miss the sunshine dearly. I may have grown up in Seattle all my life, but I swear I'm a California kid. I live for the summertime, for the barbeques and beach parties, for the warm nights spent on the docks, for the clear mornings, and worry free days. I wash the car today, like the one thing I care about being clean. Silly OCD me. Vacuumed, washed, waxed, and freshened. Red like sports car. Nothing like driving with the sunroof open, the windows down, the gas to the floor, and the sun gleaming off the hood. Bliss.
Sunday the 14th. Mothers day. I hang out at my parents house. Dad buys Mom a dozen white roses. I buy her one red one. I think I put more effort into it. Besides, you can see my tall red one in the center of all of them; it's fitting I think. We go to my Godparents house out in Edmonds, spend the afternoon and evening with them. I play video games with my friends in the cool basement. The trash talk is immense. We get told to keep it down frequently. I won a lot. Homemade lasagna and cheesecake, but not all at once. Beers and laughter.
Monday the 15th. Payday. Gas in the car, and a new ipod. The old one finally broke, *sniff*. A enjoyable trip to the dentist for two more fillings. Damn my childhood brushing habits. Moonday at the Fenix. Black. The funeral. The last moonday, but oddly enough, the highest attendance. Maybe people have come to pay their respects to the venerable event. Maybe it's the oil wrestling upstairs, or the above mentioned stripper-cover-winners downstairs. Fetish costume, leather and latex abound. We dance gothily to Depeche Mode, and Wolfshiem. We try and act aloof while laughing at the kind of comical seriousness of it all. I steal Fiona for makeouts and hashbrowns at the 5-Point.
Tuesday the 16th. Hungover. Wheatgrass and smoothies for breakfast. Turn the music up in the lab, and dance like there's no one around. Catch up on my reading. Act like I'm working.
Show with the girl. Tonight, School Boy/Girl Fetish, The Diamond Dolls, and the ever popular SexLife Reading List. Afterwards, the Vogue, and it's weekly variety show. Trashtastic. Makeouts. Fun.
Upcoming: Tonight, planning meeting. Tomarrow, date. Friday, to be determined. Saturday, Sinplex. Sunday, recovery.
What are you doing tonight?
Sunday the 7th. Sunset Strip finals. 6 crazy bitches dancing on a pole for our enjoym---er, judging pleasure. Some ridiculously 'talented' ladies. *cough*. It comes down to a wire, and we have a tie. Fiona and Pantera both claim the crowns, and the coveted covers of Exotic Underground. But what stripper contest would be complete without dudes in drag? Dane the host and John the editor duke it out in an epic drag-battle. Flashdance wins out over drugged up hooker.
Tuesday the 9th. The show must go on. Tonight's topics of discussion: Lover's Knot; a sort of erotic yoga meant for two. Very sexy. Orgasmic Women: 13 Self-Loving Divas, by Betty Dodson. Latest in a long line of sex documentaries by the old vixen. Sexier still. And a healthy dose of Goody Bag TV.
Wensday the 10th. Play party at the studio. So many beautiful people. There's nothing like a hot tub, with a glass of wine, some fine chocolate, and a bunch of hot naked people. Details are sparse. I'm still sore.
Friday the 12th. Someone pissed on me. Like, literally. I happened to be out drinking with some buddies from work. I take my leave, and hit the bathroom. One of the drunker patrons was having no trouble with his pants, them being around his ankles. There was also no dividers between the urinals. But, aiming seemed a little bit beyond him at his point, as I soon found out. He pissed right on my foot. I quickly shoved him the other direction, only to watch him miss the urinal again, just from the other side. I really, really regret wearing sandals about now.
Saturday the 13th. Sunny, sunny day. I miss the sunshine dearly. I may have grown up in Seattle all my life, but I swear I'm a California kid. I live for the summertime, for the barbeques and beach parties, for the warm nights spent on the docks, for the clear mornings, and worry free days. I wash the car today, like the one thing I care about being clean. Silly OCD me. Vacuumed, washed, waxed, and freshened. Red like sports car. Nothing like driving with the sunroof open, the windows down, the gas to the floor, and the sun gleaming off the hood. Bliss.
Sunday the 14th. Mothers day. I hang out at my parents house. Dad buys Mom a dozen white roses. I buy her one red one. I think I put more effort into it. Besides, you can see my tall red one in the center of all of them; it's fitting I think. We go to my Godparents house out in Edmonds, spend the afternoon and evening with them. I play video games with my friends in the cool basement. The trash talk is immense. We get told to keep it down frequently. I won a lot. Homemade lasagna and cheesecake, but not all at once. Beers and laughter.
Monday the 15th. Payday. Gas in the car, and a new ipod. The old one finally broke, *sniff*. A enjoyable trip to the dentist for two more fillings. Damn my childhood brushing habits. Moonday at the Fenix. Black. The funeral. The last moonday, but oddly enough, the highest attendance. Maybe people have come to pay their respects to the venerable event. Maybe it's the oil wrestling upstairs, or the above mentioned stripper-cover-winners downstairs. Fetish costume, leather and latex abound. We dance gothily to Depeche Mode, and Wolfshiem. We try and act aloof while laughing at the kind of comical seriousness of it all. I steal Fiona for makeouts and hashbrowns at the 5-Point.
Tuesday the 16th. Hungover. Wheatgrass and smoothies for breakfast. Turn the music up in the lab, and dance like there's no one around. Catch up on my reading. Act like I'm working.
Show with the girl. Tonight, School Boy/Girl Fetish, The Diamond Dolls, and the ever popular SexLife Reading List. Afterwards, the Vogue, and it's weekly variety show. Trashtastic. Makeouts. Fun.
Upcoming: Tonight, planning meeting. Tomarrow, date. Friday, to be determined. Saturday, Sinplex. Sunday, recovery.
What are you doing tonight?
VIEW 10 of 10 COMMENTS
al:
I miss you too, sweetheart.
paintedbat:
haha thanks 