What I guess I'll do is treat you to a stream of consciousness about some of what I've been up to since I blogged last (which was quites some time ago. Summer is a cruel mistress). Maybe I'll throw in some photos. Maybe I'll have to stop in the middle. Hopefully I'll get to the wonderful, gruesome details of Mr. Man's (and my, though mine was much less dramatic) piercings, performed with expertise and love and humor by our friend Aimee, the Bearded Lady of PeeTown.
Let's see. Yes, we walked in the Mermaid Parade, as a marine-life shotgun wedding: Mr. Man the pregnant seahorse and I his mermaid bride. You can find photos on his Facebook, if you're a Facebook kind of person. Or you can ask nicely and I'll send you one. We couldn't have asked for a nicer day -- ok it was a little hot, but not humid. There were a lot of drunk people, and many of them were temporarily mesmorized by my large titties, even though I was wearing a full-coverage bra. A few of them lost their manners. They weren't all straight bio-men. I guess some people are just a little less mature than others.
The next day, we went down to Delaware for some much-needed r & r. Unfortunately I was due back in New York a few days later, and I was super down, so it wasn't as good as it could have been, especially when we nearly got in a bar brawl at the Frogg Pond, the supposed unofficial lesbian bar of Rehoboth, where a very intoxicated (and I suspect, coked up) homosexual white man harassed us beyond anything I've ever experienced (it started with him wanting to hang out with us and us wanting to be left alone and quickly went downhill, ending w/him walking around the bar screaming and that it "smelled like tilapia" in there, and then our friend threw some water in his face and then the shit kind of hit the fan). The main points are these:
- As a queer woman, I'll never go back to the Frogg Pond and would never encourage anybody to go there.
- The bartenders did not have our backs, even when we were being harassed in a very visible, very audible, very offensive way that also infringed on the other customers.
- The cops in Rehoboth (at least the ones who wound up questioning us) don't have a fucking clue about queer issues. When we told them about some of the weird shit he was saying to us even before things escalated ("I rape your sunglasses." ???) just to point out how fucked up he was and why we wouldn't want him hanging out, the cop said "Well, that's interesting because he just told us out there that he's a homosexual." Yeah, because rape is a sexual act, and not a violent one. Yeah, because gay men never harass dykes or trannies.
Our trip to Peetown was better, though not without its bumps. I don't think I want to recount our piercings in the same post as the yucky Rehoboth thing, but hopefully the inspiration (or a forward-thinking impulse to clear my camera out before my trip, so I don't get stuck standing in front of something I really want a picture of, deleting them as fast as I can) will get me back here before Thursday.
In other news, we really did finally get a car, and she is a beaut. I think we've named her Gretyl. She's a 1975 mercedes benz 240d. The former owner said he was running her, unconverted, on about 1/3 recycled veggie oil, and we will likely do the same, but I want to get all my facts straight before we go for it, and we'll get her converted before winter, so that hopefully we can run on straight veggie oil with no worries. Our friend N, who took us to Rehoboth and the Mermaid Parade and Peetown and about 100 other places before we finally got a car, now says she wants to help us bondo the rust so that we can paint her up nice. What an angel.
So things are going good.
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