:Shennanigans:

Hehe...and all I wanted was the license to practice law!?!?
Hey, Rob: Hello, my name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die. :)

Been up since 5:15. Hey, the good news is that the past two nights I have managed between 6 & 7 hours of sleep. YAY! In the past few weeks, I am lucky to get 2-3 hours. Just haven't needed it I guess; I mean, heck, it isn't like I am being SOOOO active during the day or anything. My body will catch up, if it needs to, when it chooses...

Okay, so, where do I begin this tirade??? I think I should begin with the fact that Charles, beloved Cicero, was in town yesterday. Got to hang with him amid some lunch at El Toro. Lovely, in fact. We decide during lunch that we should pay a visit to The Pleasure Chest. For the record, Charles is gay, so the visit had nothing to do with "us", but for ourselves. My favorite area is immediately to the right of the entrance, essentially...'attire'. Charles is such a good sport, he hangs with me while I look at my interests, knowing I will do the same with him. Find some cool stuff. Done. Cool. We head to the upper floor and check out some stuff for him. all the while, I find out later, Charles notices we are being scanned. Hrmm. Which one of us? He said he wasn't sure at the time. HOWEVER, and I mean, this is a large "HOWEVER", no time later, his question got answered.

Imagine this: I am kneeling on the floor looking at some Honey Dust. Trying to find plain, but all I find are essenced ones. I hand the plain sample to Charles and ask him to ask the clerk if they have any new ones. I continue searching through the canisters on the shelf.

Okay, now you have the scenario. Add this: some grease monkey looking guy (you know, the kind that has himself in freakish boy-wonder shape so he can tell people he is a model or wannabe actor, but, in all reality, all he ever does is go to the gym and stare at himself in the mirror, admiring his drug enhanced muscles) comes over to me and asks, "Do you need a sub model?" SIDENOTE: People, I have a tattoo on my ankle of handcuffs.(Inside of the ankle, so not so noticeable unless you are looking for them or I point them out.) A law-enforcement and law junkie or for the darker side of me, only you could hazard a guess - all I can say is that all my friends think they are very fitting of me and my personality. This guy, from the position I am in, cannot possibly see the tat. Nope, feet together, kneeling, dress is hiding my legs and feet. Furthermore, I do have the black hair, albeit blood red at the base / roots, but I am not 'dressed' Goth or underground on this occassion to show my freak side. In fact, I was dressed in a very girly dress and scarf. Just keep this is mind, please. And, yes, Justin, I do understand the mind-set: "Dress like a lady on the outside: but you can't hide the freak on the inside." (Thanks for your ever-supportive email.)

I don't know where to begin my reaction to this. First, he makes a quick follow-up comment, "I am new to the area..." Oh, bullsh** dude, come on! I tell him, "No. I have one. Thank you." Whatever. then he asks, "Do you know any place to get good fetish clothing?" Well, I do, but like I'm gonna tell this guy. So I tell him to go to Dungeon and ask around. Get to know the crowd there, see what clothing you like, and ask them where they found it. I mean, Jesus, Holly-freakin'-Weird is not even five miles away - you want fetish clothing, all you have to do is go walking on Hollywood Blvd and you will pass like a thousand 'lingerie' stores with all sorts of cool sh**. Then, he asks AGAIN, "Do you want a sub model?" Uh, thought I answered that one, buddy, "No." His response? "What about your friends? Any of them want a sub model?" Okay, freakish-boy-wonder, if you have the ability to gross me out (which, people, is VERY hard to do), what the he** are you thinking that I would pass you off to a friend?!? I love my friends. I want to keep them.

So, all this time, Charles is watching from a 'safe location' in the store and trying to decide whether this is a good encounter or a bad one in which he should intervene. (Later discovered there is a code-word for moments like this. Good to know in the future; especially if we do another group trip to The Abbey.) The answer? I find him somewhere behind me and ask, "You ready to go?" He gets the idea. We walk down to the front register, clearly I am trying to decide whether to laugh or gag, and are joking about "my new friend". The clerk, poor guy, thinks it is so awful that he actually feels bad that it happened in the store. Okay, people, if you are going to places like The Pleasure Chest, surely you expect some weird or otherwise sexually charged persons. Charles and I try to explain this to the clerk. He still felt bad. Poor guy. As we are paying, boy-wonder walks out of the store. "Bye-bye". Charles and I finish up our purchases (I bought a crocheted cat-suit) and head on out, half expecting to see the guy in the parking lot...lurking. We successfully avoided such a scene.

Rather than what I was looking for, I found the cool body-suit, but I was still in search of body art. In hunt for bindis, cool ones, to wear out to cover my scars. Rob's mom gave me the perfect idea (when we went to the Morrocan restaurant with the bellydancers)- wear the jewelled adhesive ones over my incisions / scars when I wear something that reveals them (especialy if I go to Dungeon). I have some body jewelry, but not the lighter adhesive ones that won't pull and put pressure on them. (I am still fearful of doing more damage to them. They aren't as healed as the doc or myself would like.)

Anyhow, we head over and realize that Raving Rainbow is closed and only available online. Once home, I checked it. No go. Almost no selection online. So, I head to EBay. Find some really nice ones, re-useable and all, and excellent prices. Got a few bids in. We'll see. If I don't win, I do know some Hollywood stores in which I could find the bindis.

As for the more personal notes on my life, I will comment on two things only: Rob and I are going good. I am still under 'restriction' and could go insane before my 'release' if I don't keep finding ways to occupy my time, my brain, and my sanity. LOL. Oh, and a bonus third thing, Jen and I may actually get our Girly Day out - you know, the one we have been planning since pre-Bar times? Yep, with the Bar, my being sick, the surgery, and all other what-not, I still haven't gotten it with her (note that my mom and I did do a half-girly day together, which managed to tide me over for a bit). *sigh* It is so desperately needed...

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2004-09-14 6:49 AM SCARIEST pick up line EVER Previous Entry :: Next Entry Mood: a tad grossed out, but otherwise very good Read/Post Comments (0)	Hehe...and all I wanted was the license to practice law!?!? Hey, Rob: Hello, my name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die. :) Been up since 5:15. Hey, the good news is that the past two nights I have managed between 6 & 7 hours of sleep. YAY! In the past few weeks, I am lucky to get 2-3 hours. Just haven't needed it I guess; I mean, heck, it isn't like I am being SOOOO active during the day or anything. My body will catch up, if it needs to, when it chooses... Okay, so, where do I begin this tirade??? I think I should begin with the fact that Charles, beloved Cicero, was in town yesterday. Got to hang with him amid some lunch at El Toro. Lovely, in fact. We decide during lunch that we should pay a visit to The Pleasure Chest. For the record, Charles is gay, so the visit had nothing to do with "us", but for ourselves. My favorite area is immediately to the right of the entrance, essentially...'attire'. Charles is such a good sport, he hangs with me while I look at my interests, knowing I will do the same with him. Find some cool stuff. Done. Cool. We head to the upper floor and check out some stuff for him. all the while, I find out later, Charles notices we are being scanned. Hrmm. Which one of us? He said he wasn't sure at the time. HOWEVER, and I mean, this is a large "HOWEVER", no time later, his question got answered. Imagine this: I am kneeling on the floor looking at some Honey Dust. Trying to find plain, but all I find are essenced ones. I hand the plain sample to Charles and ask him to ask the clerk if they have any new ones. I continue searching through the canisters on the shelf. Okay, now you have the scenario. Add this: some grease monkey looking guy (you know, the kind that has himself in freakish boy-wonder shape so he can tell people he is a model or wannabe actor, but, in all reality, all he ever does is go to the gym and stare at himself in the mirror, admiring his drug enhanced muscles) comes over to me and asks, "Do you need a sub model?" SIDENOTE: People, I have a tattoo on my ankle of handcuffs.(Inside of the ankle, so not so noticeable unless you are looking for them or I point them out.) A law-enforcement and law junkie or for the darker side of me, only you could hazard a guess - all I can say is that all my friends think they are very fitting of me and my personality. This guy, from the position I am in, cannot possibly see the tat. Nope, feet together, kneeling, dress is hiding my legs and feet. Furthermore, I do have the black hair, albeit blood red at the base / roots, but I am not 'dressed' Goth or underground on this occassion to show my freak side. In fact, I was dressed in a very girly dress and scarf. Just keep this is mind, please. And, yes, Justin, I do understand the mind-set: "Dress like a lady on the outside: but you can't hide the freak on the inside." (Thanks for your ever-supportive email.) I don't know where to begin my reaction to this. First, he makes a quick follow-up comment, "I am new to the area..." Oh, bullsh dude, come on! I tell him, "No. I have one. Thank you." Whatever. then he asks, "Do you know any place to get good fetish clothing?" Well, I do, but like I'm gonna tell this guy. So I tell him to go to Dungeon and ask around. Get to know the crowd there, see what clothing you like, and ask them where they found it. I mean, Jesus, Holly-freakin'-Weird is not even five miles away - you want fetish clothing, all you have to do is go walking on Hollywood Blvd and you will pass like a thousand 'lingerie' stores with all sorts of cool sh. Then, he asks AGAIN, "Do you want a sub model?" Uh, thought I answered that one, buddy, "No." His response? "What about your friends? Any of them want a sub model?" Okay, freakish-boy-wonder, if you have the ability to gross me out (which, people, is VERY hard to do), what the he** are you thinking that I would pass you off to a friend?!? I love my friends. I want to keep them. So, all this time, Charles is watching from a 'safe location' in the store and trying to decide whether this is a good encounter or a bad one in which he should intervene. (Later discovered there is a code-word for moments like this. Good to know in the future; especially if we do another group trip to The Abbey.) The answer? I find him somewhere behind me and ask, "You ready to go?" He gets the idea. We walk down to the front register, clearly I am trying to decide whether to laugh or gag, and are joking about "my new friend". The clerk, poor guy, thinks it is so awful that he actually feels bad that it happened in the store. Okay, people, if you are going to places like The Pleasure Chest, surely you expect some weird or otherwise sexually charged persons. Charles and I try to explain this to the clerk. He still felt bad. Poor guy. As we are paying, boy-wonder walks out of the store. "Bye-bye". Charles and I finish up our purchases (I bought a crocheted cat-suit) and head on out, half expecting to see the guy in the parking lot...lurking. We successfully avoided such a scene. Rather than what I was looking for, I found the cool body-suit, but I was still in search of body art. In hunt for bindis, cool ones, to wear out to cover my scars. Rob's mom gave me the perfect idea (when we went to the Morrocan restaurant with the bellydancers)- wear the jewelled adhesive ones over my incisions / scars when I wear something that reveals them (especialy if I go to Dungeon). I have some body jewelry, but not the lighter adhesive ones that won't pull and put pressure on them. (I am still fearful of doing more damage to them. They aren't as healed as the doc or myself would like.) Anyhow, we head over and realize that Raving Rainbow is closed and only available online. Once home, I checked it. No go. Almost no selection online. So, I head to EBay. Find some really nice ones, re-useable and all, and excellent prices. Got a few bids in. We'll see. If I don't win, I do know some Hollywood stores in which I could find the bindis. As for the more personal notes on my life, I will comment on two things only: Rob and I are going good. I am still under 'restriction' and could go insane before my 'release' if I don't keep finding ways to occupy my time, my brain, and my sanity. LOL. Oh, and a bonus third thing, Jen and I may actually get our Girly Day out - you know, the one we have been planning since pre-Bar times? Yep, with the Bar, my being sick, the surgery, and all other what-not, I still haven't gotten it with her (note that my mom and I did do a half-girly day together, which managed to tide me over for a bit). sigh It is so desperately needed... Read/Post Comments (0) Previous Entry :: Next Entry Back to Top
:: JOURNAL HOME :: SUBSCRIBE TO THIS JOURNAL :: Brainsalad :: Friendly Fiction - Adventures in writing. :: Girl Child :: JamTart :: Kenny :: LisaMarie :: Netter...and her Empire :: Reenie :: RT :: Scout :: SmartiPlants :: WordWebbing ::