I'd email you back if you weren't such a big stuipd.
exotic, erotic, assholish.
Where to friggin start...
To start, I'm actually writing this Monday night 'cause I can't sleep (I been taking naps on the train home for lack of anything better to do) and I went with J and Paul to the Midnight Star to watch the Season premiere of Ally McBeal.
Yeah, they do an Ally McBeal night while in every other city everyone else at a bar is watching Monday Night Football. It was me, J, and about... oh... Two Hundred Gay Men standing and watching this TV show on big Screen TVs in a bar the size of a Toyota Celica.
I also hung out with one of J's, and now my, pals - he smokes, I smoke, 90% of the population here thinks we should be killed slowly for it, so we're now brothers of the black lung or something...
Much to his chagrin, i'm sure. I can't imagine standing around talking to my goofy ass while we smoked helped his hook up at all.If you're a McBealHead, this is the ultimate viewing environment.
You can read about it on bootyquake on Wednesday afternoon. I simply cannot do it justice.
And yes, the bold capital letters were necessary. Trust me.
That all was actually a "calm point" for the weekend, of which the high point was saturday.
Starters - I went to get my haircut. Vince apparently thought I didn't know what i was talking about and left the top a little long. "Yes, i noticed the bald spot, thats why i left it a little long" he told me.
he's the pro. I just walk around with it on top of my head 24-7.
eh. It's hair. I should be grateful he tried to do something with the ever lessening bit i have.
Rush home so we can go to a BBQ at J's friend Amy's.
Great little BBQ - good food and lots of it, they had a live band (no half-assing things here), and kids. Little kids.
Lots of them.
I made a buddy (a short pudgy buddy), J was ready to die if she didn't get a marguerita in her ASAP, and her and Amy looked at each other with the entrance of every family that was 8-12 months ago simply a couple with that look of realization:
We are now of that age where are friends all start showing up at parties with small people that they made.More small humans showed, but we had to boogie.
The Exotic Erotic BallIt can all supposedly be summed up from the theme song, which Paul and J showed me consists of the following lyrics:
"Exotic. Erotic. It's so Exciting. Exotic. Erotic. It's so inviting."
No, there isn't more.
Anyhow, we go to this big "ball" because we got VIP passes from J's company (they fucking rule) because THEY sponsored some part of it.
This event, as we can call it, has been going on for like 20 years now, and has been growing accordingly - there were like 12,000 people there. It's some kind of costume-party get-crazy free-love be-openminded let-your-hair-down-and-get-funky type of thing.
Costumes, by the way, are generally sexually oriented, mostly to the point of "I'm getting as naked as I possibly can stand myself being". This, in and of itself, is not a bad thing and I have no problem with it.
We got there pretty much when it opened and it seemed kinda cool for the first half hour or so and I was enjoying what little they had going on as a uriosity-type thing and J and I were all into being a couple and were feeling frisky and were roming around and feeling more frisky and so we went off to "do couple things"
Which we did, sorta. We went off into an unobtrousive corner and we're goofing around and having one of them nice little "ooh we're so naughty" type moments that young newly-formed couples have for fun, and I see this flashbulb.
Didn't think anything of it.
About a minute later, J kinda looked up and away from me and ALL OF A SUDDEN I'M IN THE MIDDLE OF LARRY-FUCKING-FLINT'S OFFICE! About 8 guys, who slowly sauntered up into the few rows behind us were taking pictures - flash pictures.
Yes, i'm sure if you look hard enough you can find pictures of the two of us, completely costumed, nothing hanging out anywhere, on some wankers website - if we're lucky we may even make the alt.amateur.erotica.schoolgirl.priest.costumes newsgroup...
I'm gonna look in another month when i get the DSL hooked up again. I'm not gonna keep you posted.
The reason I'm bringing this all up is not because I'm hoping my Mom reads this all again, or because I'm trying to say to the world "HEY! I MAY BE A GEEK BUT I HAVE A GIRLFRIEND", but because this moment exemplifies just what the hell is wrong with people. Not the thing, but if you can sort out my crappy delivery, you may get my point.
This ball started out as a bunch of hippies getting together and getting all naked and rolling around and fuckin' and having a good time of it and it grew into a costume thing and got bigger and became known and more and more people kept showing up every year and much fun was had.
I don't know much more about the history of it, but i'm assumung there was a critical mass reached somewhere and less and less people were participatory and more and more people were there to get drunk and see fucking if they were lucky.
I don't care if you're level of participation is simply wearing a costume and clapping politely when you watch an act, that puts you miles ahead of the rest of the guys that were there (and these were ALL guys as far as I could see) to add to their collection of pix that sit in the album next to the industrial-sized jar of Vaseline.
People all wanted something for nothing, or worse, expect that becasuse they bought a ticket to this thing that they were owed something; something that they built up in their beer and Spice Network addled heads, and something that by being nothing but dead weight on the whole moves to drag it down and make it suck.
What did I expect, you're asking?
Thats a good question.
I had heard a lot of stuff about it from various sources, but I also know that talk is cheap and people are even cheaper. I saw a couple cool things - a few of the costumes were interesting, or at least funny, I saw shitty performance art (read about that at bootyquake) that at least started out as sorta pseudo interesting, and I saw an old bartender that looked like a bigger dork that my Dad mix me a drink and have a fucking great time doing it and never stopped boogying to the music that was blaring from the "Its not a Gathering if the Sound isn't DEAF-O-MATIC!" sound system.
They participated. they at the very least tried. they enjoyed. they were adding something to the mix.
Unfortunately the majority of the folks there were dead weight looking for a cheap thrill without giving anyting back. At all.
"Show me your tits so i can get back home in time for the midnight WrestlMania"
For fuck's sake, at least put on a mask or spike up your hair or something. Or are you worried you won't look "cool"? How cool are you gonna feel when you get that roll of film developed and you have to hide it from your wife till she goes to work so you can Bopp the Baloney in safety?
Assholes. Even the guys beatin' the meat in the bleachers watching the pornstar onstage participated more than you did.
These ARE the "great unwashed" - the same folks that we cant seem to weed out of the gene pool 'cause they aint smart or responsible enough to be careful with their naughty bits - the same people that will plunk dow $9.50 a pop to see shit like Superstar 'cause its at the closest theatre and they've see everything else and who has the time to read a book and I'm just too tired to sit and talk with my friends - the same people that didn't bring water with them to Woodstock '99 when they knew they would be there for 3 days and then got pissed because it was either pay $4 a bottle or wait in line for hours and miss the bands so they burned everything they could - the same people that...
You get the point. I could keep going on for-fucking-ever here.
Don't be a leech (letch?), kiddies. You don't experience from watching, but doing.
Enough of me being Yoda for the night, go read the goddamn real world update.
I almost forogt to mention - i did get to see Motorhead there. Words cannot do it justice.
25 Oct 99
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