June 09, 2005

• You mean on purpose? I was once part of a party held on a subway car, as a sort of theatre thing. But I accidentally spilled a bunch of sparking apple juice over a poor commuting woman (I was "drunk", another girl had a tray of sparkling apple juice in plastic champagne glasses and was going up and down the car serving them - there were also balloons, and streamers and people in fish heads and a singing roller-skater). It was in general lots of fun, but I still feel sorry. If you are out there, nice but sticky woman, I'm very sorry.
• When I was 3, my parents went out to a sorta-nice restaurant and brought me along. Well, there was live music, and apparently I jumped right up on stage and started dancing. I guess it sorta foreshadowed me getting into theater in high school...
• Ooooh... this thread's gonna be fun. I've experienced a couple instances of truly, please-ground-swallow-me-now events, usually involving tears, time constraints, runny makeup (not mine, though), misunderstandings, long tablecloths... oh, no, still healing over those...
• I once physically dragged a soon-to-be ex-boyfriend into the basement during a party, where we and another *involved* girl held a marathon screaming match people still speak of three years later. Guys are still semi-scared of me.
• I had a female friend (who is now more than a little looney) who, about 25 years ago, went into a restaurant with a doll wrapped up in a blanket and made a big scene of treating it like a little baby. Then she got up to leave and started acting like she was angry at it. She had everyone's attention as she went out the front door and in front of the big glass windows she slammed the blanketed bundle to the sidewalk. She said people came out of their SEATS. Gee, I guess we should have taken that as an early sign of the mental illness to come, eh?
• Good Lord no! I am very English in this respect - I've been in riots, but I've never created a scene.
• Improv Everywhere makes good scenes.
• back in the summer of 19(mumblemumble) when i was 18 years old and selling balloons at marriott's great america outside chicago, i took 50 or so huge helium balloons and waded out into the middle of this reflecting pool (which security guards were constantly trying to keep guests OUT of) and screamed, IN HONOR OF MY LAST NIGHT OF WORK BEFORE STARTING COLLEGE!!!! and let them go. it created quite a stir and looked very cool. (as guards were dragging me out of the pool i heard one guest say, "do they do this every night at closing?") somehow i talked my way out of an "employee theft" charge.
• Ever tried to be invisible while someone else did? Apparently you've met some of my old girlfriends.
• mecurious i love the baby one! pray tell, what did that person go on to do in later life? interesting creative career? psychologist? nanny?
• To torture my twin sister, I used to entertain all of the fellow late-evening shoppers at the grocery store. I'd trap myself into the freezer cases, slow climb the shelves in the cereal aisle (swatting at the imaginary planes), and pick up a plastic bottle of juice, fading back and yelling, "Go deep!" while she cringed and turned the BEST shade of red. Heh heh.
• Heh. When I was a student working nights stocking shelves at a supermarket, a few of us would take turns crawling into the toilet-paper shelves and letting the others stack a single row of toilet paper in front of us just before opening time. It was roomy enough that we'd be quite comfortable in there for the twenty minutes or so it took for someone to get to that aisle and grab a pack, only to find a face peering out through the hole they made. Of course, eventually someone with no sense of fun threatened to fire all of us, so we had to stop. Luckily no heart attacks resulted. I also had the public breakup meltdown in a bar once, where I was the one trying to be invisible/calm while my ex ranted and stomped and followed me into the ladies'.
• My ex wife decided to have a meltdown infront of my boss, his wife and my co-workers at the time. We were touring Universal Studios in Florida (as well as a bunch of other themeparks and zoos) for ideas to rip off for a restoration of a the Baltimore zoo. I had at least the fortune of inviting my sister on the trip so later I could check to see what, if anything I did to make my ex go ballistic. After reviewing it over a period of time, it turns out that if it was intentional and wasn't then, it would have been sometime later. The major drag about it was that her behavior basically soured a very good business relationship.
• I meant to say it turns out that it was intentional and if wasn't then, it would have been sometime later.
• Very cool sidedish.
• Few things top a truly obnoxious date. Loudest person in the restaurant, and there was a band. Liked to show off her assertiveness by bossing around serving staff. (what made it worse was that I had no idea it was a "date" till I turned up... and found her dressed to the nines, looking nervous (I was late) and immediately getting very touchy (physical). 2 1/2 hours of torture -- service was ridiculously slow) As for me... well, I did get kicked out of Expo '86. Dragged out, in fact. Largest thing I've ever been kicked out of. And I almost got tossed out of a wedding reception in Saskatchewan for slam-dancing. That was fun.
• Ah, slam dancing at wedding receptions... good times, good times.
• Dunno if this counts. We were in a grocery store in Chicagoland a few years after they first banned smoking in grocery stores, and when large chain grocery stores had video rentals (pre-Blockbuster era). This guy is standing there having a smoke. The Deconstructioness (Mrs. Deconstructo?) asks him to put it out. He pretends deafness (we had seen him speaking to his sig-other earlier). She asks again and when he feigns deafness again, she goes for the manager. Ten o'clock at night means that the "manager" is a high school kid who really wants nooo problems in the remaining 15 minutes of his schedule. He refuses to do anything, so the cigarette guy looks at Mrs. D and laughs. So I took the butt right outta his hand and crush it on the floor. He goes ape shit. He's about half my size, so I just verbally unload upon him every latinate invective I can think of (thank you Reinhold Aman)impugning his race of tiny, bug-eyed, nicotine-stained half-wits, while he stands there apoplectic--he keeps trying to counter me, but can only sputter as his pea-brain races trying to understand if he is being insulted. I mean, he can tell from the tone, but he can't grasp the concepts. There is a crowd standing around half-shocked, half-mocking the derided smoker, who threatens to take care of me outside the store. I tell him, no need to take care of me, this one is on the house--the folks standing around laugh and applaud; seems the smoking film renter has been a pain in the ass at the store for months and no one has wanted to confront him.
• In the town I grew up in we had us a “bible college”. Every year a new crop of students would wander the downtown area and try to convert the locals. We as youth probably looked like we needed to be “saved” and were waiting for them. They would ask in polite small voices if we had been saved yet and so on. We naturally would respond in loud street theater style and try to engage them in debates over the advantages of other belief systems. Anything to get a rise out of them, weird offers and so on. Later there policy became for them to only go out in teams of 4 and avoid us, the trench coated ones. Ahhhh good times. (Believe what you want, but if you try to force it down our throats you were fair game for our street theater) I also had a ugly break-up in a busy restaurant, (I was the dumpee) that included dodging flung food as I made my exit (she got me with a baked potato).
• Knew a girl in high school who carried a set of tiny feet from a plastic doll in her purse. In grocery stores she would open peanut butter jars (in the day before tamper-proof seals) and make little footprints across the top. Then of course she put the lid on and put the jar back. Not exactly a public scene, but performance art.
• I sing everywhere. At the top of my lungs (and I studied as an operatic tenor in college, so that's saying something). And if there's a radio playing I improvise dirty lyrics as well. I'm assuming this counts?
• *cries*
• *cackles, improvises dirty lyrics to "I Believe I Can Fly"*
• Not if you're not embarassed and nobody complaints or arrests you, Bone.
• I used to date women who were given to making public scenes. (Hell, I even married one.) Boy, am I glad I got over that propensity! *remembers wanting to dash after Russian gal who ran out of a Prague restaurant shrieking, but having to pay the tab, then try to figure out which subway station she'd made for* *remembers being chastised the next day for having guessed wrong* Good times, good times...
• I also had a ugly break-up in a busy restaurant, (I was the dumpee) that included dodging flung food as I made my exit (she got me with a baked potato). Wait, you were the dumpee? (not the dumper?) And you got food thrown at you, to boot? That's cold.
• When I had a problem with a bank (insufficient funds even though I had deposited my paycheck through the ATM a week and a half before and hadn't taken money out since), the teller suggested that I go to one of the clerks in the lobby and ask why my money isn't there. I said (rather loudly), "No, I don't think so. Why don't *you* talk to a clerk and find out why [XYZ] Bank can't find *my* money?!?" The teller said, "Yes, sir!" and scurried away. After talking to the clerk, they both went over to the ATM and found my check. When they came back, they tried to tell me there would be a hold on my check for x days to make sure it would clear. I declared, again ratherly loudly than necessary, "No, I don't think so. I've never seen such incompetence in a bank. You've had over a week to verify my check, but you left it in your ATM. I want all my money, including my paycheck and remaining balance, right NOW and I'm closing my account!" They quickly complied, just to get me out of there. ;- )
• Doohickie, good job! Banks give the everyday Joe the runaround all the time, so I always delight in that kind of story.
• In high school, a friend and I used to do "performance art" in the mall. We'd decide that the floor was made of, say, sticky mud, and walk as if it were. Groaning loudly about the difficulty of getting through the mud, falling down, stumbling about. Then we'd decide that we were on fire. It was fun.
• How about when my would-later-go-12-step, 20-something, teacher-at-a-Massachusetts-prep-school then-girlfriend started making out with the 50ish tennis coach at the school in front of me and the tennis coach's wife at an end-of-school-year faculty party, and I interrupted them to politely inquire what the fuck they were up to?
• You should have made out with his wife.
• I stood up and sang the Star Spangled Banner at a table in a Pizza Hut in high school until the date I was with would actually eat a bite of fucking food.
• For those who live for such moments, I present.... O.C. and Stiggs. After I first read this I showed it to an acquaintance/colleague of mine who enjoyed public antics. He thought they were real and almost started worshipping them as gods.
• Like the_bone, I tend to sing a lot. Pity the poor people who work for me at BayCon. If registration slows down, I start in on the opera. They're probably very sick of hearing me sing "Nel cor piu non mi sento" by now. I've mentioned the many things I've done intentionally a time or two before, so I won't go over it again. One unintentional scene: I'd been out in the car with my then-boyfriend, and we decided that it would be a good idea to pull into the public parking lot of an apartment complex for a bit of fun. Why this seemed like a good idea, rather than just going home, I don't remember. We crawled into the back, and hadn't gotten terribly far - kissing and a bit of heavy petting - when we began arguing. I also don't remember what we were arguing about. The argument got heated, I was crying, my boyfriend was being far more emphatic than necessary, bouncing in place as he hollered and occasionally punching the seat. The windows steamed over from all of this, predictabley. Of course, this is when the complex's security officer showed up and assumed we were having sex, since the windows were steamed over. We got ordered out of the car, and discovered that we not only had private security there, but a small audience of people who lived in the complex and had noticed the car bouncing a bit and the steamed windows. The more we tried to explain what had really happened, the less we seemed to be believed. Security threatened to turn us in for public indecency, but finally let us go. Embarrassing at the time, but now strikes me as very funny, and I have to laugh every time I see a car for the security company go by.
• I do this to my wife every time we're in Toys 'R' Us. I also sometimes move in quietly behind her when she bends over to pick up something, with a look of excitement on my face.
• I once got my voice to echo at the Skydome (or the "Rogers Centre", as it's called now). Also, my friend used to go into random stores in the mall, beatboxing, and I'd follow, breakdancing in the shittiest way I knew how.
• Mmmm... ok, I have been known to use head-on shrimp at buffets to act out Shakespeare. *whole shrimp with head, to eaten shrimp, only head remaining* Alas, poor Yorick. I knew him, Horatio. a fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy... (I was favorite counsellor at the group home if not an excellent role model)
• .
• My fiance does the same thing that middleclasstool does to his wife on occasion - moves in behind me happily when I bend over to pick something up at the grocery store or something. But mostly I just think this is amusing. I've been involved in a few public scenes... one in a college library when another student was being unfairly dressed-down by a clerk, and I stepped in to defend her and almost wound up being carted off by security. A few involved Boys being cads and my formerly overly-developed sense of theater. But the best one is still the one at the vet's office. I had been on a trip and was picking up my pets from boarding, and the office was busy. While I was waiting, a woman at the checkout was going on loudly about her personal superiority: she had been a scab during a teaching strike, and was terribly abusive to the students she taught, describing in detail how she delighted in humiliating the more defiant ones, how with one girl she intentionally "broke her spirit." This went on for about twenty minutes before I finally said something, to the effect that I thought she was a terrible person, to take delight in abusing the state's power so that she could personally humiliate a child. She snapped, "I'd hate to see YOUR kids." I replied, "I was a straight-A student and a national merit scholar; you're just a fucking bitch." She shrieked as I was on my way out the door, "OH, GO JOIN THE COMMUNIST PARTY!" The funny thing was that the receptionist she'd been talking to had also been the receptionist of my junior high, and when the woman made some comment about me after I'd left, the receptionist replied, "Oh, no, she really was a straight-A student. And the sweetest girl." And smiled at her meaningfully. They told me this later when I came back to apologize to the staff. Then they told me that they were relieved that I'd said something, because they all wanted to, but couldn't. I was embarrassed about losing control and swearing and stuff, though... I've pretty much avoided public scenes since then.
• ... oh, and when I was on the Opera Track, I also used to sing in public all the time. I'd practice dance routines everywhere, too, if I had to learn them for a show.
• I purchased a t-shirt for my friend - solid black with bold white letters on the front that said "PUSSY RULES." When I saw it, I knew she had to have it. It suited her personality perfectly. She didn't wear it out right away. We took a trip to Seattle, and she decided it was good a time of any to initiate wearing the shirt. We decided it would be a social experiment - - observe people's reactions. Being in Seattle, we assumed that women would have a "positive" reaction to it, and the men, we just figured they would scratch their heads a bit. On the contrary! The shirt did cause quite a stir everywhere we went! To be honest, I've never seen reaction to a t-shirt like this before. Our first destination, Pikes Place Market. You could see people's reactions like a domino effect - - rippling through the crowded market as we strolled through. We did not see a single "positive" female reaction! It was one after another - looking in utter disgust/shock/horror. The men for the most part got giggly and laughed it off. One guy on a motorcycle stopped in the middle of the street and yelled, "where the hell can I get that shirt! My wife needs it!" And the one face I'll never forget, this professional business-looking woman sitting on a bus as it passed by - her face was frozen, mouth agape, eyes piercing... We were a bit disappointed. Apparently we didn't encounter any women who were fully-aware and proud of their pussy-power. I guess that qualifies as a public disturbance?
• Well, there was the time I was on acid...oh never mind.
• Oh, almost forgot this one. I was good friends with a bunch of people in the Gay and Lesbian Alliance at my college, and usually wound up going out to Denny's with the entire group after the weekly meeting was over. The GALA group was large, and we often filled the front half of restaurant from one side to the other. This particular evening, I was at one end of Denny's with a group of friends, and another friend was at the other end. He decided to try and publically embarrass me. I'm a very busty gal, so he yelled from his end of Denny's, "Hey, Christophine! If you had only one breast, how big would it be?" I didn't even stop to think. I promptly yelled back, "But I do only have one. I just part it down the middle." He choked, most of our group laughed their asses off, and the few people who thought they'd have a quiet dinner at Denny's were staring at me with mouths agape. It's been a running gag ever since, and the one breast story has been trotted out at parties several times. We even managed to convince one guy at a party that it was true. Oddly enough, on the night the whole thing happened, we didn't get kicked out of the place then. It wasn't until we began singing "The Scotsman" and came to the part about lifting up the sleeping Scotsman's kilt that we were asked to leave.
• I was once dragged from a bar, by my hair, by an ex. He started it. I finished it. Once outside the bar, he started squeezing my shoulders hard, digging his fingernails into my skin causing me to bleed. Then he slammed me into the side of his van. He was yelling and cussing at me. I was wearing steel toe boots, and I kicked him in his nether regions. He went down and I kept kicking him, until someone pulled me off of him. I was infuriated that he thought he had any right to lay hands on me. I was escorted back inside. The bartender had called the police. The ex was taken to jail for assault. I was refused service because I was too angry to drink anymore, according to the bartender. He was correct in that, I was angry for the rest of the night and given more alcohol, I might have gone to jail too. I don't drink alcohol anymore.
• Good for you, not taking that.
• I exert the same level of steely self control and amused imperturbability at all times, regardless of provocation or whimsy.
• *gooses Fes*
• *turns and winks at Koko with an air of amused imperturbability*
• *pantses Fes*
• This would be where the "steely self control" part kicks in.
• *waves Fes' pants around in circles over head, shouting, "woooooo!!! Lookit that ass!!!"*
• *raises one eyebrow in Spocklike fashion, feels brief twinge of regret over decision to go "commando"*
• *covers Fes' shame with frilly tutu, seeks out middleclasstool for further pantsing*
• *murmurs a small "ahem," signals waitress for margarita and a towel*
• *muses momentarily, signals waitress for two margaritas* It seems inequitable, my dear, that only I can enjoy going pantless...? Do depant yourself and sit down, I've arranged for refreshments.
• *pantses Koko, sits down, looks expectantly at Fes's margaritas*
• *signals waitress, makes universal hand-sign for "we'll likely need a pitcher"*
• *pantses mct, sits daintily on chaise lounge, catches bratcat passing by, pantses bratcat* Fes darling, perhaps we should have a pitcher? And maybe some guacamole.
• damn too slow
• *smiles* Anticipating your needs is a special priority of mine, my dear.
• And you, Ms. Bratcat, look exquisite today! *checks her boots for steel tips*
• *pours margaritas, surreptitiously gives MCT a Cardoso-esque look of "what interesting lives we lead, eh?" satisfaction*
• *pantses waitress, cackles loudly*
• *slips off unnoticed with pile of discarded pants.* *returns moments later, gloriously overdressed*
• *makes an utterly unprovoked scene.*
• *points out Nickdanger* Hmm, ladies, look at that. [pause] I understand there's mental hopsital right near here. *sips insouciantly, while silently patting self on back for having the forethought to keep wallet in jacket pocket*
• Where do you think I just came from? *cackles again, upturns bowl of guacamole on head, runs pantsless into traffic, singing opera*
• *blinks twice* So, bratcat, how've you been? *adjusts tutu, refills bratcat's glass, offers her a cigarette*
• oh many many times a female friend and I were waiting at a subway platform and some dude was like bending over sideways to look at our butts, which sort of annoyed me ;) the train pulled up and all three of us were getting on as I was beginning to loudly berate him. I pointed at him and loudly said "hey that guy was staring at our butts, thats so rude, blah blah blah". he moved to a different train car.
• then there was the time my friend kevin and I were in las vegas, in the "old" MGM (before the remodel) betting a dollar back and forth to do "wacky" things, culminating in my daring kevin to lie on the floor, in the middle of the casino/mall/whatever, and roll around on the floor (which was meant to depict an ozlike field of poppies) writhing and saying "poppies will make them sleep" over and over. it was pretty hysterical to watch the reactions of passersby....
• Ah, so NOW I know why MCT stopped taking the subway.
• It's humiliating enough for your 10-year-old kidlet to be seen in the lingerie department with mom. Double the fun by finding the biggest, stiffest black bra you can and draping it over the child's head while belting out M-I-C, K-E-Y, M-O-U-S-E at the top of your lungs. I will *never* be forgiven.
• *resolves to go to happy hour with Fes & Koko*
• Yay! Prepare for the pantsing of a lifetime!
• So many to choose from.... I think my proudest moment in high school was the time when my 3 friends and I got hold of a tube of stage blood. One thing led to another, and soon we were processing in single file down the centre aisle of the tourist-filled Washington Cathedral holding branches of greenery in our bloodstained hands (with artistic dribbles down the forearms) singing plainchant in our purest choral voices. I still get the warm fuzzies when I think of that day.
• *grabs JJJ-cup black bra and branding iron, hurries over to happy hour pantsing*
• *checks out Medusa's posterior, looks away quickly* *sets chair upright again, glances under Fes's tutu, again looks away quickly* I believe I'll be moving on to whiskey now. *puts bra on Koko's head, wishes upon a star*
• We'd love to have you and your pants join us, if only briefly for the latter, Ms. Space Hotnes- er, Space Kitty. *hundred watt smile*
• Back in high school, our German and Italian Honor Societies took a trip to the Holocaust Museum in DC. I turned around on the bus to talk to a friend of mine and realized he'd changed into a dress. Okay. The Italian teacher offered to do his makeup, but he declined. He was wearing socks, but no bra, so they migrated throughout the day, and his shoes didn't go with the dress at all. The museum itself was fairly uneventful (though we were only allowed into the childrens' exhibit then), but we were let loose on the city afterwards, and the fun began. We walked past a herd of elementary school students who all stared at us when one yelled "Oh my GOD! It's a CROSSDRESSER!" A guy in a suit with a headset kept following us. And on the Mall, some younger teenagers decided my friend was the Coolest Person They'd Ever Met ("Excuse me. Are you a crossdresser?"), and got their pictures taken with him. I have a photo of him in front of the J. Edgar Hoover FBI building.
• I've been having a crappy day at work but reading the Fes/Koko/Middleclassstool et al. depantsing scenario has just made my morning! I haven't laughed so hard all week! Thanks.
• You're kidding, right?
• Er.. that was directed at thursday. Specifically the J.Edgar Hoover building part.
• GramMa enters in her pink tutu with umbrella, begins poking posteriors grumbles: Dammit, where's my martooni?
• *idly wonders: what is this, Parents Weekend at the mental hospital?* *signals waitress, gives universal sign for "this biddy needs a martini"*
• *returns with pantsless cast of One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, begins pushing tables together*
• Several years ago my wife and I were eating at a crab place in North Carolina; the kind of place that features big rolls of paper towels sitting upright on every table to clean your hands after shelling your crab dinner. I went to the bathroom, and when I came back I found my wife sitting there with a horrified look on her face, rearranging the table settings to place the paper towel roll directly in front of her. Turns out the guy sitting across the room from her was staring at her chest. Neither of us knew why; she was wearing a camisole top, sure, but she's an A cup, so it's not like she was flashing any skin. The guy was seriously creeping her out though. This sad, fat little bald man just kept making surreptitious, leering creepy glances at her, with his portly wife and two small kids sitting right there with him the whole time. It was my once chance to make a public scene, and I couldn't bring myself to do it. I really, really wanted to go over to the guy's table and ask him point blank if he'd like to come over to our table and join us so that he could get a better look at my wife's breasts. What stopped me were his kids, and my wife. I felt bad for the idea of pointing out to his kids that Dad was a creep, and my wife (although in retrospect she thought it would have been wonderful for me to do that) figured we were about done eating and more than anything else she just wanted to get the hell out of there and away from him. Damn. I still wish I would have done it. It could have been a great story.
• I just got back from Reno -- what'd I miss? *looks at tutued Fes and pantsless mct, bratcat, Koko, cast of Cuckoo's nest, waitress* Oh. Shit. Late again. grumblelgrumblefugginpartystartswithoutmegrumblegrumble *sits down, tightens belt, snaps fingers* Senoriiiiiita, dos mojitos, por favor...
• The drinks are great here, but I'd skip the guacamole. *scratches under tutu*
• * * * ============  * *  ============ * * * ============ ================== ==================
• Damn, thats always happens, getting depants when I am not looking. :)
• So many ideas...
• I really, really wanted to go over to the guy's table and ask him point blank if he'd like to come over to our table and join us so that he could get a better look at my wife's breasts. Go ahead and tell me now.
• Orococo: you are EVIL! *chokes on corn flakes Fes, I think your tutu's in-Fes-ted Bwahaa haa haa Fishtick, you are my hero. I must find a way to do this. *hums Mickey Mouse song
• Oh, I guarantee you that my tutu is filled to brimming with in-Fes-tation.
• *Steals in-Fes-ted tutu, runs squealing about the room before balling it up, setting it on fire, and catapulting it over the bar using a DDD black bra. *Opens umbrella, begins dancing on tables
• *this party is about to get good* *looks down, idly wonders: do I have sunscreen in the car...?*
• *soars overhead atop giant flaming pantsball, raining loose change everywhere*
• And that, little Timmy, is the last we ever saw of Koko the Pants Fairy. She roooooooooooode off into that sunset, pelting everyone with nickels until we could no longer bear the unspeakable pain. Ole Uncle Fes got his whathaveyou burned purty bad in that summer sun, which led him to become the drunken gutter whore you now see before you, and GramMa's chin rests dropped a full inch from the shock alone. Things never were the same after that, nossir, never were again.
• *For the hundredth time already: I'm a slut, not a whore. And this is not a gutter, it's an easement. That makes me an easement slut. Don't confuse Timmy, this is complicated enough without out spinning things*
• Dropped a full inch perhaps, but I still have fantastic nipples Will you LOOK at my face when I'm talking to you? Ooooo, it's raining quarters. And Koko's butt's on fire.
• That's right, I've got a hot ass!
• BlueHorse, I trust that black DDD was also on fire. *searches for damp bananas to cool things down a bit in here.*
• Well, DX, OF COURSE! Although, I am a traitor to the cause. I supported the "burn the bra" contingent, but always wore mine. Too uncomfortable not to. And have you ever ridden a horse at a trot without one? NOT going to happen. *grabs damp bananas and begins stuffing them down her shirt front
• Well, Blue, it's only at a sitting trot that those loose boobs are a problem. I tended to post in all saddles. I'm quite sure, however, that I won a Western pleasure class once, because of my freestyle riding, shall we say. The judge was looking my way often and at the end he commented that he liked my 'show outfit'. I was much smaller in those days though. I certainly wouldn't try it now, unless it was a gaited horse of 16 hands or over. The rocking horse ride. *dreamily recalls past rides.*
• "...and the winner for best acting in a dramatic short...." *rustles envelope* "....Fes and Koko!!!!" *thunderous applause*
• MonkeyFilter: We'd love to have you and your pants join us. MonkeyFilter: this is not a gutter, it's an easement MonkeyFilter: those loose boobs are a problem Jeez, GramMa! Falling down on the job, so to speak.
• *wipes tear from eye, kisses Fes, begins acceptance speech ... ... finishes acceptance speech 3 hours later*
• *steps up to the mike: "What Koko said."
• Koko said she'd done all on her own, Fes. Or was it that she could have done it without you?
• zzzzzzzz *wakes up after 3 hour acceptance speech* "uh, thanks for that and now...wait where the f*ck are my pants!"
• check with pete_best.
• *sotto voice: (hee hee, StoryBored still doesn't realize we've died his hair blue)
• Blue? Well as if he isn't going to know where that colour came from. Has he noticed his organ is missing yet?
• Good Lord! My hair! Argh! And there's something else missing but i can't quite put my finger on it.
• I had fun, I don't mind if Koko takes the credit. *raises a toast to the lovely Koko, drains glass, hands it to StoryBored with a hearty "oink oink, my good man!" then slowly meanders offstage toward the tartly trio of smirky-sweet goth girls holding the "Free Fes' Pants" placard*
• Certainly not. I think dxlifer misinterpreted the part of my speech that was in Swahili. *blows Fes a kiss, tosses several pairs of pink spandex hot pants into the crowd, takes the reins of giant pantsball and rises into the night*
• *Fake reporter appears with fake tape recorder, splashes water all over Fes and Koko*
• *much more of this press attention, meine kleine liebchen, and we're going to have to seriously consider a dispensing of shirts as well*
• Shirtsing? Well, as long as we stop short at skivvies-ing, I guess we can avoid an NC-17 rating.
• Oh, no. We're all getting naked now. The gauntlet has been thrown down.
• I have sunscreen from earlier, if anyone's pettables need a schmeer...?
• well, Story Bored doesn't need it. Will it filter out Swahili? I thought it was sybaritism I heard. Monkey-chatter can be so much fun.
• *GramMa poses coquettishly behind her twirling open umbrella, dispenses of tutu behind such
• BlueHorse.. You too? Good for you.