Zoe ,'The Train Job'
[NAFDA] Spike-centric discussion. Lusty, lewd (only occasionally crude), risqué (and frisqué), bawdy (Oh, lawdy!), flirty ('cuz we're purty), raunchy talk inside. Caveat lector.
My beverage choices right now are water, orange juice, soy milk, and almond milk. The almond milk seemed like the best idea.
...of course, I still haven't actually had anything other than water. I think I might just forget about the whole food thing for tonight.
Almond milk sounds soothing.
That's all the milk I use anymore.
I had two years in a row (back in the 90s) where I wandered into the Folsom Street Fair by accident. I was going downtown to do some overtime on a Sunday and the trains were loaded with leather-folks and their friends on leashes and I'd remember: "Oh yeah" and hop off and check it out.
Apparently for the serious leather daddies there's a separate less advertised event in an alley at a different time of year which is All That by which I mean things well beyond porn. (I imagine it to be some sort of forest of slings with a fist as you please policy, but I don't really have a clue.)
Wish I could make it up to Folsom, alas that's right in the middle of when I'm doing my big push for Halloween Horror Nights.
Sigh. I'm watching this movie my uncle **highly** recomended. Navajo mystery. Clearly not enough budget for rehearsals. Acting a bit mechanical. However, the doc & sheriff is screaming for a slash fic story to be written.
I should probably think about packing since I'm leaving tomorrow. Hm.
Naked cruise!
Naked GAY cruise.
It strikes me that the Folsom Street Fair people probably enjoy having a few less, um, extreme people around. After all, they can hardly shock or surprise each other and I imagine that there is some entertainment value in shocking people.
There is a poor cat crying mournfully at my back door. I'm wondering if it is my upstairs neighbor's cat that they're not supposed to have. It occasionally escapes. They're not home, and my asthma is bad enough lately that I really don't want to go near it.
It strikes me that the Folsom Street Fair people probably enjoy having a few less, um, extreme people around. After all, they can hardly shock or surprise each other and I imagine that there is some entertainment value in shocking people.
Vast entertainment value.
Beneath my semi-Victorian swoopy exterior lies someone that makes Jilli go "EEP!", cover her face, and run away - ah, the stories I can tell from dating a very interesting gentleman in San Francisco, and going to Sunday mass (St. Gregory of Nyssa's) all duded up for Folsom.
I KEED YOU NOT!