Six Flags turned out to be great, despite our collective lack of sleep, thanks mostly to mind altering substances and some drunk friends. The crowds were even bearable, lines near obsolete.
Drunk friends of Goth Chris rented scooters that are normally reserved for the handicapped or obese and wreaked havoc on the park for a solid hour before they were reprimanded and had driving privileges revoked.
Goth Chris, DJ Greg and I got stuck on Batman for about twenty minutes, legs dangling in the air, which has been one of my fantasies since my first roller coaster ride. (Alas there was no hunky attendant coming to my rescue in a buttless park ranger uniform but still fun nonetheless)
Plus I got a fridge magnet of Goth Chris and I on Raging Bull, making perfect “fuck you” faces and devil-horns on all four hands. There’s two other people in the picture as the ride seats four across, but I’m thinking I’ll superimpose the heads of Rosie O’Donnell and Anna Nicole Smith instead, which in my honest opinion would be one of the greatest things ever. Especially if it’s fat Anna Nicole and Rosie all dressed up as her t.v. movie retard role.
On Saturday Miss Valium and I got drunk at the Gingerman with The PRL and friends and then watched the Stars show from the VIP seats in the balcony. I had expected the chick from Stars to look like the singer of The Cardigans on account of her squeaky voice but she wound up being more KimDeal-ish. It was a great show filled with sappy sing-a-long moments and lots of rocking out – I mean they really have a good time on stage and it was quite contagious.
After words I got to see something really creepy. Ever been inside a theatre that has been abandoned for ages? Well, I have. Plus it had a piano in it that Tori Amos actually played once according to The PRL. I plinked a few keys and the hairs stood up on my arm. We felt chills and got all anxiously but no major manifestations. But that didn’t stop me form bolting in sheer panic after like ten minutes tops.
After some greasy fried food I put Valium in a cab, met up with Goth Chris at the fag bar and got hammered. I danced for about twenty minutes with my pants half way down my ass – not noticing until Chris pressed a cold drink against my cheek and a crowd of cheers roared form our friends. It was real classy. I was all, “What? And? So?”
Soon after I was stumbling home down the sleazy street between my apartment and the fag bar. I got a few glances from a hot guy across the street and before I knew what I was doing I was flowing him into an alley where he proceed to push me up against a brick wall, take down my pants (which if you are paying attention are halfway down my ass already) and suck the hell out of my cock.
Nothing like a back-alley romp to make you feel like lady. Of course the next morning was filled with AIDS paranoia and a scalding shower, hoping that the hot water and promises of “I’ll never do that again” could wash away unwelcome VD. (It can’t kids)
But still, it was pretty sexy and if you’ve been wondering why I have been only mildly bitchy the past couple days as opposed to balls out uber asshole, well now you know it’s because I’ve finally gotten some action. And that puts a smile on my face no matter how stupid or sleazy. (As long as I don’t have any VD)
And I must say, after the inescapable flood of Father’s Day advertising, which normally has me teetering on the brink of drunk and maudlin, it was a welcome moment.
Not sure how my dad would feel about it, but I’d like to think he’s giving me the old “Atta boy” from a cloud in heaven.
*Mental note to get more blowjobs