X-mas gifts

I promise I will finish part 3 of my story but I have to throw this out there. I love shopping on the internet for X-mas gifts that are unique. It gets harder each year, but there's always something that stands out, even in my own sick twisted world. The first of probably many strange discoveries is this, the Horse Head Pillow. Who comes up with this stuff?

Because I love political controversy...

A debate about Doug McKillip twisting words for an ABH endorsement and Ed Vaughan graces us with a glimpse of his "dark side" after losing his chance at a commission seat in the comments section of Athens Politics.

Part 3 later

I've run out of free time. I'll publish the saga of Flapper Jen and Butt-Plug Chico on Halloween night as soon as possible. If I get a hold of some pictures soon, you'll be given an extra nice/disgusting treat. Get out and vote hoochies!

Part 2: The Real Halloween at work

Obviously, we were all hung-over from Saturday night. I noticed it takes my body longer to recover the older I get, hence I practice some serious moderation when it's time to drink, That went to hell Tuesday night, but I'm getting a head of myself, first let me tell you about our contest at work that day. I had worked on the butt-plug costume through Tuesday, to get it ready for that night, but I couldn't wear that to work without being slapped with grievances out the whazoo. So I opted for the Rock Star again. Honestly, I didn't expect to get many comments, it was a blue wig with tight clothes and a leather jacket, but folks seemed fixated on my platform shoes. I forget normal America usually has no interaction with the many strange facets of my social life. A coworker said it must be nice to just wear my normal clothes for a change at work, to which I replied my real clothes are much tighter than this (I was kidding, kinda). My boots were a hit, but Bruno's costume was also adored. Yeah, Bruno and I work together too so I guess that's quite a bit of time for people to share (home, work, friends) but it works, mainly because he's on a different floor and does his own thing at work. Anyway, we did our little costume contest and Bruno was third (which is scandalous considering it took some serious labor), the lab director was second (no one wanted to be unemployed so you gotta toss in a vote for the boss), and I was first place. I don't know if it was the air guitar, the devil signs I waved in the air, or the karate kick with 3 inch platforms, but I somehow snowed 'em over to take first. Bruno said he would have been very bitter if I hadn't done the work on his costume. At this time, I just want to add one side note about Bruno's costume that day. Before we left home, Bruno yanked it off the floor where it had been lying in dog hair since early Sunday morning and the ringed tail was covered in a mixture of beer and dirt. I'm impressed it didn't reek of old cigarette smoke, especially with all the fur, but Bruno had problems getting in and out of it on Saturday. It had a velcro front but Bruno had somehow torn it at the crotch. That Tuesday morning, at home, we were getting costumed up and he noticed the crotch was open. He had on his tie-dyed boxers underneath but refused my suggestion of wearing pants due to the costume being so damn hot inside. He figured no one would spot anything under that fur and he would discreetly hold it close somehow. Those of us who know Bruno laugh at him being associated with discretion. In true Janet Jackson fashion, he walked into the gathering and one of our coworkers noticed his open fly and told him, with everybody else around of course, that he had some low hanging fruit that needed to be put in a basket. Actually, I wished she said that, I think she just said she could see his tie-dyed underwear. I had missed the early show, but as I was walking past the row of offices leading to the cafeteria where the contest was at, I saw one of the older ladies looking in her desk for a safety pin, with Bruno staring sheepishly beside her, to close his crotch up before the contest. I didn't say a word. Actually, I smiled a bit at being right again and at the wise ass crack of another coworker suggesting someone was having guilty pleasures with a 6 ft. cow. If you weren't familiar with lemurs, he could look rather bovine, minus udders or horns; also many gov't workers can't even spell "leemer," much less recognize one. I guess that's why he had a last minute costume addition, a sign that said "I am not a cow."

What I've been doing in between blogs (Part 1: Halloween weekend)

Well, I've had a busy 2 weeks that has me gasping for air. There was quite the long pause between blogs, but I guess life doesn't make room for online thoughts. Well, let me fill you in on what I've been up to.
I spent the week of Halloween putting together costumes for that Saturday and Tuesday. I spent an embarrassing excessive amount of time on Bruno's lemur costume, but the enjoyment he got out of that 6ft. furry lemur suit was worth every burned finer tip. It's amazing what you can do with a cat suit pattern and 50 gallons of hot glue. My first butt-plug costume was a disaster and I was almost a wreck, but Jen, who was whipping up one of her usual tasty vegan dinners at the house, guided me through random pieces of old costumes for a new idea in less than an hour. I quickly tossed on a blue wig from an old Gleek costume (I promise to post a picture of me, Jen, and Bruno as the Wonder Twins), then a pair of black tight softball pants, a way tight thermal top and a biker style leather jacket I've held onto since the mid-eighties. I strapped on my knee high black vinyl platform shoes I used in my Rick James costume for Boybutante, and *BANG* I'm a 5 minute rock star. I had a star painted over my eye, but someone called me out as a Gem wannabe at the party later that night. I said I was more like Kiss but maybe I could merge the too and be called Giss. It came out sounding like Jizz so that was ruled out quickly. Jen was a sexy little flapper girl with that faux-fur coat I soooo love. We strutted around Saturday at the party for a bit, enjoying kilts, pound puppies, bounty hunters, and THE Man of Leisure, when it was time to roll downtown. We proceeded to get smashed at the Manhattan, enjoyed some drinks with the cast of Laverne and Shirley at Room 13, and then danced to DJ Mahogany at the Little Kings. You know it's a good night when you have to chase your 6 ft. Lemur down Prince Ave. To make sure he doesn't get mugged. Bruno man, that's a 5 mile walk home. I figured you'd learn after number 5 or 6. When I picked him up in front of Athens Regional, I asked, "You know you kick yourself halfway home when you decide to run home drunk, why do you still do it?" He said in a slurring cute way, "It's just who I am." Now how can you argue with that kind of logic?