The Quad City gathering was small–beagledave, ChrisCTP and yours truly–but it was almost karmic in the opportunities to fight ignorance. (Just wait until you see Dave’s pictures!)
Kricket couldn’t make it, which was truly unfortunate because a Smurf Dominatrix would have fit right in.
True to form, I was the first to show up at the Blue Cat Brew Pub. Armed with a microbrew I approached the only guy sitting alone who looked sorta like Dave. “Dave?” I queried. He looked slightly puzzled so I clarified, “Dave the Doper? With Clancy the beagle?” He denied it, paid his bill and fled like a scalded cat.
Sulking back at the bar, I noticed a handsome young man in a (TA-DAH!) Straight Dope t-shirt. Yes, 'twas Dave, followed shortly by Chris in her FFF cap. We hied our way over to a booth for some serious gabbing, drinking and noshing.
Topic highlights:
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our regret that Kricket wasn’t there.
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assorted gossip about various Dopers; assume you were mentioned, m’kay?
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boar semen, which came up (koff!) in reference to agricultural commercials in the midwest. The specific commerical featured two actual porkers, quite fetching for their species, with the theme from Love Story swelling (darn!) in the background. It was surely very moving to hog breeders, and there wasn’t a dry seat at our booth either.
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smut shop management, courtesy of Chris’s youthful stint as a counterperson at one. Some fun alternatives were suggested for use on resumes, e.g. entertainment distribution, leisure activities facilitator, etc. Great fun was had regarding her accounts of creative displays on the “Toy Wall”.
We all heartily concurred that a No Returns policy was justified, especially when it came (sigh) to the vibrating vagina: a small boxlike (no joke) thing optional hair attachments and a battery compartment.
Some discussion followed about alerting Laz-E-Boy to a market niche currently underserved by the recliner industry. Applying our most rigorous powers of imagination we couldn’t figure out where other than a recliner a person could ever manage to use the bizarre gizmo.
DRUMROLL! Then it happened…
A party of lissome young females (most in halter tops) came tripping along the sidewalk toward the pub, one bearing in her arms a 5’, realistically colored and shaped inflatable penis. This isn’t something one sees every day!
O bliss, O joy, they entered the pub. Dave, upon whom few flies land, immediately sprang from the booth to get a few dozen good shots with his digital camera. The merry group, on their way from a “bachelorette party”, posed happily and rewarded him with a Tootsie Roll sucker as well.
They settled into a nearby table, their gigantic pink friend occupying a chair of honor. Dave, sucking madly on his sucker–and don’t think that symbolism escaped comment!–was inspired to ask the Maid Of Honor Elect to snap our photo with the latex giant. (Which we dubbed Free Willy, a fact we didn’t share with the bridal party.)
Yes, Dave will post these photos. Buy your Depends now.
Eerily, another similar party passed on the street outside, bearing an inflatable man (the whole male, not selected parts). A surreal mime show took place while the parties inside and out (I’ve given up caring about double entendres) compared latex companions through the window.
Having standards, low though they may be, we declined to immortalize the inflatable man, as he was cheesily unrealistic, not to mention clad in briefs.
We decided that we’d dealt Ignorance a helluva blow (DAMN!) for one night, and reeled our separate ways home.
Veb
Having
My life is soooo boring.