those of you who would prefer to think of me only as a sweet (yet slightly saucy) individual with the knitting and the meowsers, i suggest you simply look here or here and then come back tomorrow.
so. this post is l-o-n-g, so you should sit down. trust me.
the night of my birthday began like any other night, with me relaxing in my trusty orange pajamas... but then, out of no where, pigs flew and my apartment got really cold and the devil went down to georgia, and these are surely signs that it was time to get my whore on. i hopped in my hussymobile and sped off to my friend Mercy's house, for the best part of any evening with the girls...
make sure to note the knitting, as it
really fits right in with the theme of the evening.
there was about ten tons of makeup on the coffee table for everyone to choose from, in the great tradition of club kids everywhere, and the even greater tradition of one of my dream careers. *le sigh* if only.
i like how my hair is all swooshed back, so you can see
my sevenhead. i considered pancaking my eyebrows
and drawing them back on three inches higher.
you know, for fun.
then we all put on our outfits, and Mercy (who requested her face be blurred because she is in the witness protection program) had to get lubed. yes, that's right. lubed. silicone lubed! (water soluble, and non-gloopy!) she wore a red latex dress, which requires lubrication, not only to keep it soft and supple and not rippy, but also because it's just prettier when it's shiny. most things are.
to my knees and relubed her in the middle of the club.
it was necessary, but also highly entertaining.
so here's what i wore.
i look like a slutty girl version of slash.
in case you can't tell, i'm wearing the bitchin' top hat that lady linoleum made for me, a wig that looks essentially like my own hair but much longer, a very skimpy top, green bra (to match my eye makeup, bitches!), very very skimpy skirt (with jolly roger undies beneath), widefence fishnets, and the coolest "belt" ever, the skull that draws all eyes to my loins. all will flock! (shout out to spinnerina)
i'm all business.
my makeup, for your enjoyment:
other than that, i'm so hot i don't know how you stand it.
and the four of us,
SO! then, just before eleven, we ran off to miss kitty's parlour and valeted the car like the deserving girls we are, and entered the club.
at first, i must admit, i was unimpressed. the last "fetish" club i went to was much more imposing at a glance. there was more black and velvet and candley things etcetera, etcetera. so we got some shots. and then, pretty much immediately after that, the first performance of the evening began. there weren't any cameras allowed, but let me assure you, the images are forever burned into my mind.
but with less cartoonishness,
and a whole lot more strapons.
the crowd included a young man who's lip rings looked like tusks. he made out with pinksara for a good chunk of the night, showing her a good time, and simultaneously breaking the silver shirt she wore (my shirt) on its maiden voyage into the public eye. while it is fixable, i sort of enjoy knowing how it met its early demise.
there were more shots, and more shots, and an odd man wearing tuxedo leiderhosen who reminded me of this guy and so was dubbed "the german." there was a guy in a spandexy outfit that covered his whole body and face, and some girls in very little. some boys in very little too, actually. there was an oiled up muscley man in a pink/purple speedo being led around by an enormous (not fat, just really really large) bottle blonde.
in one room there was what resembled depression-era european porn being projected on the wall, and everyone in it looked suitably morose, having just waited in nine hour lines for a loaf of bread and now being subjected to this. one woman was a gilf, if you like depressed women i guess.
when pinksara's shirt kept falling off (that boy was incredibly enthusiastic), we had to run to the bathroom and fix it repeatedly. there was a man with a camera in there (the official photographer? or pervert...or both? you decide.) who took our pictures in a non-creepy way, but then tried again and again to convince pinksara that she should show him her nipples. just one. just for a minute.
when that didn't work, he suggest that he could lick one, offering like the gentleman he clearly was, to close his eyes. she politely declined.
after, i did more shots. then a girl in a pink wig and a teensie bikini and giant shoes stole me away to the side stage, where she bent me over a fur covered table horse, handcuffed me, and allowed a man clad in a jockstrap, a butcher's apron, and scads of glitter to spank my bottom. as i understand it, the first paddle-to-miss-kendra contact resulted in an all too perfect popping of one of the strings on my fishnets. i, of course, have no idea, as i was upside down. and also my head doesn't go in that direction anyway.
the strangest part (in my opinion) (and it was my butt, so i think my opinion's fairly relevant) was that there was a spotlight right on me. i was pretty impressed with myself for allowing such a thing (the spotlight. i'm fairly pro-spanking to begin with.), and very proud of myself for having the foresight to double up on the underpants. they allowed me to relax some when the glitterbutcher manipulated the jolly roger panties into my crack in order to expose as much as possible, and then pour hot wax on it.
that's right. he poured it on my ass.
we met a genial rastaman named King Richard who asked us to return for his reggae show. he requested that we wear the same outfits, and i don't think it was so he would recognize us.
there was more drinking, and staring, and drinking, and laughing. then i danced with my leg over the shoulder of one of their stage dancers. and then i danced with some incredibly handsome man who (sadly) did not smell as good as he looked. how dare he! comingling the delightful cookie scent with his odor did little to dispel it, but i was drunk and cared little, if at all.
i woke up in the morning slightly sore, with a headache, but surprisingly puke-free. and strangely, i couldn't shake the thought that the handsome man may have bitten my bottom, though i have no proof either way. anyway, who could blame him? it had just been waxed and polished.
delicious! like fruit.