Tuesday, August 30, 2005
Anyway, I think their documentary is going to be fabulous. It does actually have a somewhat serious theme: the commercialization of American towns. Check out their website.
Friday, August 26, 2005
His: "Let your lovelight shine on me"
Mine: "Not fade away"
Both will also have our wedding date. Yeah, yeah, we're a couple of freakin' hippies.
Thursday, August 25, 2005
Last night, dear Tommy beat some Belgian guy in a 3-set match at the Pilot Pen tournament (thanks to J's folks for the box tickets with a prime view). God love my fiance for alerting me when Tommy changed his shirt between sets--what a good sport! I am not kidding when I tell you that sometimes I missed entire volleys because I was too busy staring at Tommy's ass.
However, the best part was when I got to put my hands on one of Tommy's own balls and even take it home with me!
Yes, you see, at the Pilot Pen, the winners hit a few balls into the crowd after their matches. Tommy autographed his last two, and the last one he hit came right for me. J was a darling, responding to my cries of "catch it! oh my god J catch it!" because, having played softball before, I know that a ball coming right for me is more likely to whack me in the eye than end up in my hands.
Sunday, August 21, 2005
We arrived in time to catch a funk band we wanted to see, and then headed over to browse the craft/crap booths. Rode the ferris wheel (first time in AGES), ate some greasy food, and then started to head out the way we'd come in--through a short dirt path up a hill through some woods. As we approached the path in the woods, we noticed a man who'd just fallen on his face, right at the bottom of the hill. J was the first to notice that the man had clearly pissed himself. We chuckled and watched as a good samaritan helped Monsieur Pissypants to his feet and up the hill (attempts to lead him to the less steep path were unsuccessful). After much stumbling, he finally made it up the hill, which lead to a residential neighborhood.
The good samaritan and his family left Monsieur Pissypants to make his way home "roundddaaggghhcorrrnnnerr", and J and I decided to follow behind him as he meandered down the street, wobbling this way and that, to make sure that he did not intend to get into a car. He made it about a block before wandering into the corner of someone's front yard. There he stood, swaying precariously as J and I approached. J asked "you alright, man?" Monsieur Pissypants slurred "yaaaaaamarright" and then proceeded to plummet face-first directly into a large evergreen bush. He rolled onto his back, still crushing a large branch or two, exposing his unzipped, piss soaked jeans. J says he started to twitch, but at that point I was across the street trying to take a picture with my cameraphone (sorry, it sucks):
J tried to get his mom or aunt on the phone, to see if some cops might like to come assess the scene, but before he could reach anyone, the homeowner came out scowling, as if we knew the drunken log of flesh who'd taken up residence in her yew. We assured her we did not. We discussed the next step, and the last I heard out of Monsieur Pissypants was something like "aaagghnnndunncallgghhcops." Too late, buddy.
J's brother M, after hearing the story, suggested that the Milford Mirror run a picture of Monsieur Pissypants--in all his bush-crushing, pants-moistening glory--the following day, with the headline "Oyster Festival a Huge Success".
Friday, August 19, 2005
At a family breakfast outing (which included my Grandpa and his girlfriend Sally, Little Sis, my mom, and some aunts and cousins), the topic of spicy foods came up.
Sally: You know who has the best wings? Hooters! I just love going to get wings at Hooters!
Grandpa: Who cares about the wings? I go to Hooters for the tits and ass!
Tuesday, August 16, 2005
Brad arranges our seats to make room for the performance. Oh, did I mention he was wearing full fireman regalia?? We're talking a little simulated ash on the cheeks, and a big red hose here people. This guy paid attention to detail. Anyway, he asks "are you ready" and before we can blink he's in full So You Think You Can Dance mode. He had no qualms about grabbing our hands and placing them directly on his groin. Or ass. Or chest. You get the idea. He even took the liberty of copping a feel on a few of us. But hey, it's OK, it's my last official hurrah...it's all good. Before we know it Brad is in his red thong, lying on a towel on the floor, having us do blowjob shots and eat strawberries off of various parts of his body. I can't help but wonder what the assistant thinks of the whole deal, but it's hard to concentrate on that when a nearly naked man has your 19 year old sister on all fours and has a handful of her hair in his fist.
After much hose-thrusting, crotch grabbing, and gyrating, we thought the show was almost over. But apparently Brad had other ideas, for all the sudden, the thong was removed and there were Brad's dangly bits, right in our faces. I think my jaw is still recovering from its lighting-fast plummet to the floor. I'm no prude, but I certainly was not expecting this! To make matters even more, shall I say, interesting?...Brad was able to make his cock temporarily disappear! ...into S's mouth, that is. He swooped over to her, his groin level with her face, and put the towel he'd been using for lying on the floor and wiping his man-sweat off of various things over her head, presumably to be cheeky. Well, as S put it later "there was a cock in my face, what was I supposed to do? It was instinct!" The girl has some issues. [Let me clarify that the cock-disappearance trick lasted only a minute or so, and there was no wad-blowing involved. Thank god.]
So, since I really can't top that part of the story, I will quickly recap the rest of the night:
11 PM. Brad and his helper leave, Ed the limo driver comes to get us. we are all wearing feather boas and I have on a sequined headband with large pink feather sticking straight up.
11:30 PM. Ed drives us down Lake Shore Drive. We stop for pictures and end up talking to some nice bicycle cops. One frisks me against the limo for a photo op.
12 AM. We arrive at a dive karaoke bar. S pays the DJ $40 so we can get songs in within the hour. I sing "Hit Me With Your Best Shot" while waving a penis-shaped squirt gun in the air. S, Little Sis and I sing "Baby Got Back" together. Someone buys me a shot of Jagermeister. I do it without puking.
2 AM. We leave the karaoke bar and head to the Liar's Club, an awesome hole-in-the-wall bar where they are playing great 80s dance music. Little Sis and I head straight for the back to dance. S finds Rick, the resident nudist, and asks him to disrobe for the occassion. He complies without hesitation, and for this I have the best photo of the evening: me, Little Sis, and S, standing with a buck-naked 40-ish year old man. It's a full length photo.
3 AM. Liar's Club closes, so we head outside. I give Little Sis's pink boa away to a chick who promises to wear it--and nothing else--for her husband. I thought it was a noble cause but Little Sis was none too happy. I owe her a pink boa. We walk back to S's place.
3:30 AM. Little Sis and I leave S in the bar below her apartment and head upstairs to crash.
9 AM. We are awakened by a strange man opening the bedroom door (Little Sis and I had shared S's bed). "Who the fuck are you?" I ask. "Who are YOU?" He replies. This goes back and forth, until we figure out it's S's friend from HS who she must've called after we passed out. Then I realize I've lost my cell phone, the only shitty part of the whole affair.
11 AM. Brunch. Then Little Sis and I drive back to the 'burbs, witnessing a Mexican guy falling asleep at the wheel right there on I-90. We manage to make it home alive.
by Vladimir Nabokov
Considered by most to be depraved and immoral, you are obsessed with
sex. What really tantalizes you is that which deviates from societal standards in every
way, though you admit that this probably isn't the best and you're not sure what causes
this desire. Nonetheless, you've done some pretty nefarious things in your life, and
probably gotten caught for them. The names have been changed, but the problems are real.
Please stay away from children.
Take the Book Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid.
Wednesday, August 10, 2005
Yet I have some of the most controlling tendencies of anyone I know. Makes sense, of course, but I was amused when I thought about how it must've come across when I said it...
Monday, August 01, 2005
After the intial shock wore off, I was able to not worry so much about my appearance. Until, that is, after the gifts had been opened and they seated me in a centrally located chair for the "silly games". That's when the cop walked in, and with a flourish of his nightstick, asked me if I was ready to be taken..."downtown". (Do I need to clarify that as he spoke the word "downtown", his hand made its way over his crotch in a suggestive manner??) Giovanni the "cop" put on quite a show. Let's just say he was very athletic and also very hairless. Used to performing in more private locations, the setting on the wide-open deck found him both a bit chilly and slightly embarrassed (not that you'd have known that!). After his primary act, he allowed me to choose the next victim. Thank god my future mother-in-law is a good sport!
Overall, a good time was had by all. And I get to do it all over again next weekend when I go home to Chicago for another shower and the "official" bachelorette party...