Normally, someone's hefty load spooging all over my balls while I Feel Love is blasting in the next room would be a good thing; but somehow, it happened too quickly, and without warning, and DAMN! what a mess! I disengaged myself from the spooge-spiller, pulled my jockstrap back up, and headed for the restroom. I guess I'm just a visual kinda guy, so not getting a chance to see what was making me sticky was a disappointment, not to mention no time for me to, ahem, join in the fun. I swear, it was like 3 light kisses, and 4, maybe 5 tugs on his uncut monster and he's splattering me. What about my needs?
Earlier in the evening, a friend of mine calls to see if I'm going out. He's got the day off, it's been a long time since he's been out, etc. He mentions a few places he thought of going to (Eagle, Cheese Whiz, Cock, and some place on 1st Ave I've never heard of that charges 6 bucks before 9pm - 9pm????) I caution him that the Cock is small enough that if you're not into backroom stuff, the music can get lame and it may not be that interesting. An hour later he calls back, and wants Cock (the bar, that is). Hahaha, the backroom is not only all lit up, but black-jockstrapped Aner is doing some sort of installation back there, with paints and "canvases" spread across 1/4 of the wall space. The music is fairly horrible for the first hour, but either the alcohol, or the amusement at seeing everyone acting so confused that there is no sexual activity here after paying 10 bucks to get in, eventually it starts to sound better. By 3a.m., Parrish was playing all OlDsKewL (as the kids would say), Atomic Dog, Flashlight, something from Tom Tom Club, Neneh Cherry, etc., and I got a big chuckle out of Buffalo Gals blasting, as it's been on heavy rotation here at home all weekend (and as stoned as I was, I managed not to embarrass myself, and curtailed my instinctual urge to "air turntable" during the song). DeeJay announces loudly that the backroom is open (meaning: people are leaving in droves, so we've finally dimmed the lights back there), and in the ensuing stampede, somehow I lose my buddy.
Probably my fault, as i am a dope fiend, and I disappear for awhile to inhale some weed during some deep thumpthumpthumping tune, before taking a peak in the back for my spoogebath. Sometime later, as last call is announced, my bike unlocks itself and pulls up to the door, screaming for me to get my sorry ass out of there before the lights come up. Several items find themselves in the microwave before finding their way down my throat, and some time after 11 am this morning I wake up feeling just a tad headachey.