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"I'm just sad the public school system failed him so badly": The Gardening Thread
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Sep 18th 2009

I've never done the Ren Faire thing but the comments I do see on Facebook from some people I know that do are always bitching about how hot and cumbersome their costumes are. Somehow I don't think I'd want to sex up some chick who has been strapped in a corset and wool tights for the last 12 hours during a warm, humid Midwest summer day.

At least not until she hit the showers.

Sep 18th 2009

Do the good sirs have to remove the ladies' chastity belts first?

Ah ha ha. I wouldn't be surprised. There were quite a few of us who loved jumped at the chance to act out there because there was no 'fourth wall' and you got to write a lot of your own material. But then there were quite a few people for whom the lines between fantasy and reality blurred a little too much. Also, although you were paid each weekend for your performances, it was very little ($20 a weekend, I think?) for seven weekends of performances. But you had to buy your own camping equipment. And purchase/make your own costume. And come out for seven weekends of rehearsal as well. All in all, too much $$$ and time committment for too little $$$ and too much crazy.

some people I know that do are always bitching about how hot and cumbersome their costumes are.

My costume was 40 pounds dry. We operated in rain or shine. When it rained we still had to march in the noon parade through all the mud and the muck. Sexy, let me tell ya. And the showers weren't the cleanest places either.

Sep 18th 2009

Wait - people actually find other people to have sex with at a Renaissance Fair(e)??? Talk about nerd-on-nerd action. Yowza. Do the good sirs have to remove the ladies' chastity belts first?

Dear Big Tuna

Are you kidding? Renfairs are the band camp/private school of nerdom. They are all about freaky sex. Them and comic-cons. It's all business during the day and the bunny ranch and the playboy mansion combined during the evening.

Boyhangover

Sep 18th 2009

the Ensenada Fuckhouse

Band name!

Sep 18th 2009

Yep. Listening to people going at it really isn't as fun as one might think

I figured that out with (well, more because of) my freshman year roommate. Many, many times.

Sep 19th 2009

You know, it doesn't bother me so much to hear a roommate or a neighbor going at it in their own bed--or even people at a hotel. It's just when you're all out together for a short period of time, and it's temporary lodgings that you're all putting up with, and the expectations of privacy are reduced that it bugs me.

Sep 19th 2009

Have I told you guys the "Booty Girl" story?

Sep 19th 2009

She said she’d swallow it, but she didn’t. Look, if you don’t like my recipe for
coleslaw, don’t have any. But she didn’t have to spit it out when she thought
I wasn’t looking, just because it had my sperm in it. I'm sorry, but that's a
disgusting way to behave!

Sep 19th 2009

Have I told you guys the "Booty Girl" story?

No, not that I remember.

Sep 19th 2009

Okay, the "Booty Girl" story. It takes place mostly in a dark basement my senior year of high school.

That year, I played George in Of Mice and Men. After the run was over, we had a cast party at the house of the dude who played Lenny. So let's just call him Lenny. Lenny's parents did not give a fuck. This is why you always had parties at Lenny's house. Once you got there, you weren't allowed to drive till the next day, but if you wanted to drink, smoke, get stoned, his parents didn't care. So, after a long night of revelry, at about 4.30, people start falling asleep. There are like fifty of us at least dotted all over this house -- couches, beds, chairs, spots of rug.

Anyway, my girlfriend and I are all spooned up in one corner of the rumpus room in the basement. This room has somewhere on the order of fourteen or fifteen people in it . . . so of course we, like normal people, have our clothes on and are only cuddling together for warmth. Seriously, we were on the floor, there was a dude in the recliner like two feet away, and other people people were everywhere. Across the room, on a sort of chaise type deal, are this guy who we had dubbed "Fugly" (for the obvious reason) and his girlfriend, both of whom had done tech on this play. Anyway, as my girlfriend and I are falling asleep, we hear that telltale clink of a beltbuckle being opened. I remember she whispered something like, Did you hear that?, and I had to shush her, because I didn't want to be heard. That's how many people there were in this room.

Anyway, we start hearing rustling noises, and it's pretty clear that stuff is happening over there on that chaise longue. My girlfriend is quaking with silent laughter, and then, we start to hear this:

slap . . . "That's my booty." . . . slap . . . "That's my booty." . . . slap . . .

So forth. I mean, spanking, sure, a lot of people get into that kind of stuff. You know, in the privacy of their bedroom. NOT IN THE MIDDLE OF A ROOM CROWDED WITH PEOPLE WHO ARE TRYING TO SLEEP. I mean, exhibitionism, I'm not going to lie, has started my tractor a time or two. But, you know, it was sort of about the exhiliration involved in the fear of getting caught that was exciting. Not that of playing sex games in a room full unconsenting of people. UGHUGHUGHUGHUGHUGH

So anyway, eventually they finish their business, and everybody falls asleep and the next day thirteen traumatized teenagers try to pretend they didn't hear what they heard the night before. The upshot is that Fugly's girlfriend is dubbed, among my friends, "That's My Booty Girl". Once the trauma wears off, it becomes an inside joke so uproarious that if this girl walks by us in the hall, all someone has to do to cause a torrent of laughter is smack their hands together.

Months later, I am the editor of the school newspaper, and my chief sidekick is my girlfriend's BFF, who was not there on the fateful night but is definitely in on the joke. Anyway, we're laying out the paper very late at night, and one of our key photos is of That's My Booty Girl playing some sport -- I want to say soccer, but that would have been out of season. Either way, I couldn't remember her real name, so as I was writing the caption, instead of a name, I wrote THAT'S MY BOOTY GIRL in all caps, as a way of reminding myself to look her up in the yearbook before we printed out the proofs and drove them to this all night printer out in Tualatin. (Tualatin: Suburb of Portland at least 25 miles from my high school. At the time had the only all-night press in the city. Anyway.)

So it's like two in the morning, and we're finally done, and BFF & I pile into the car to make the trek to Tualatin. And as we're driving over the Ross Island Bridge, I hear this snicker.

And I'm all, "What?"

And BFF says, "Um, I don't think we can put this in the paper."

"What?"

"I don't think we can use the word 'Booty' in the school paper."

"What?"

"Don't you know That's My Booty Girl's real name?"

So it turns out that we have forgotten to change the proofs. It's two thirty in the morning or something like that, and the school is, for the most part, locked. BFF & I are both high achievers who need to get A's in our newspaper class, and if the paper doesn't come out the next day, we're risking our GPAs. So what do we do? We drive back to my high school, pull my car up on the sidewalk, and I have to go in through a high window in what turns out to be the girls' locker room that had been left ajar, all so that we can go back to the newspaper classroom, make one tiny change, print it out again, sneak back out, hope there aren't cops surrounding my suspiciously-parked car, and drive once more to Tualatin.

Which is what happened. All because two kids couldn't keep it in their pants in a room full of people.

Sep 19th 2009

What a great story, DftF. I'm sure I've told this one, and it will pale in comparison to yours, but the band at one of our proms was called Lee Bracks & Company. (I know, LAME.) Well, someone thought it would be funny to change it to Lee Harvey and the Oswalds when we were setting up our yearbook for print. It didn't get changed, so that's how it went to the printer, and they left it that way. Awkward.

Sep 19th 2009

I was only half paying attention to the that's my booty story and I thought he said he was working on the yearbook and I was really hoping it made it to print cause I was going to find me a copy of that year book.

Sep 19th 2009

A hot drunk older woman, maybe 35, told me my glasses were sexy and becoming at the Kenny Chesney Concert I worked at tonight. She wasn't super drunk but she was groovin that's for sure.

Sep 20th 2009

That is an awesome story, DftF. You've written all this stuff down somewhere right? You have a journal or something right? I'm sure you do, since you're a good writer, but I just want to check.

Sep 20th 2009

Not really. I just remember that one really vividly. And I've told it enough times that I'll never forget it.

Sep 20th 2009

"They" always say writing all that stuff down somewhere is invaluable for later. I wouldn't know. I can't ever follow through with anything. Did you do The Artist's Way thing back when everyone around here was trying it out?

Sep 20th 2009

Apparently not, because I don't remember what it is.

Sep 20th 2009

It's a book that Jenna Fischer recommended at one point that helps give artists a sort of structure to continually develop their talents. It's not just for writers, but has obvious advantages for them. It's really a great book, but, like I said, my follow-through sucks. I've got about five things I want to start back up creatively once I get on maternity leave and pulling that book out and blowing the dust off of it is one of those things.

Sep 21st 2009

I loved your story, DftF. I was also on my high school newspaper's staff, and spent many a late night laying the dang thing out. Lots of light blue highlighters, glue sticks, and scissors.

Sep 21st 2009

That is a fabulous story, DftF. Especially the driving-to-Tualatin part, because of sucky suburban traffic.

Sep 21st 2009 edited

These stories are hilarious, and judging from your negative reaction to them, I'm probably pretty glad that I never did see those things.

Sep 21st 2009

I once walked in on my roommate and his gf doing it. He was on top so all I saw was his pasty white ass. Dude is like an albino.

Sep 21st 2009

In college I was at a track meet in Boston, rooming with a pole vaulter at our hotel. It was a big meet so we were gone all weekend. On Friday night I turned in early, and the pole vaulter came in the room an hour later and told me he had just run into an old high school girlfriend and would I mind pretending to be asleep for a while? So they came in, she walked over and convinced herself I was asleep, and they went at it for about an hour. I heard everything...she said some pretty funny stuff that I won't repeat. Some sounds I heard were difficult to identify. I couldn't believe she didn't think it would wake me up, and I couldn't believe HE KNEW I was awake. Anyways, the next day he confessed that she wasn't an old girlfriend, he had just met her that night.

So that's my story about hearing a booty call.

Sep 21st 2009

Something about poles and vaulting...pudding, pudding...

Sep 21st 2009

It's kind of a stereotype about pole vaulters, but it was true in my experience.

Sep 21st 2009

Holy cow! Did he owe you big or what?

Sep 21st 2009

That's exactly what he said the next morning, I owe you a big one. But I'm not gay, so I turned him down.

Sep 21st 2009

Man, that's just awful. Great time for extortion though. $300 or no go!

Sep 21st 2009

she said some pretty funny stuff that I won't repeat.

Why not? Is she a member of NA?

Sep 25th 2009

So remember when I linked to that Macleans article about teaching pleasure in sex education classes? Well, in this weeks edition, there are some letters to the editor about that article. Here's two of them.


"Somehow previous generations managed to discover some pleasure in sexual activity. As a parent, I would resent the notion of any school official attempting to indoctrinate my children in the current erotomania, which is destined to produce toxic levels of self-indulgence and self-absorption. The primary purpose of the reproductive system is reproduction. There is pleasure involved, but it extends beyond the simple act of coitus or some super-orgasm. There is pleasure in the total process of conception, birth and raising children. How about some emphasis on that?"

"Since when is the knowledge of fisting, S&M and strap-ons of any consequence to the responsible, loving relationships of our young? Sex is most fulfilling in a committed relationship. We used to call that marriage."


Comments?

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