I recently caved in and went to the local Renaissance Fair. Now, for those of you who are unaware of the intensity of my dislike for such events, you may wish to avail yourself of this previous article on the subject. Nonetheless, as I am attempting to reintegrate myself into my surroundings [ha! I almost typed "culture"], I have been forcing myself to step outside of my comfort zones in order to touch base with the local scene.

First off, I was horrified to discover that there was not one single pair of heaving bosoms thrusting upwards from a tightly laced corset. What the devil? The Renaissance Fair is second only to Halloween in its socially-acceptable Dress Like A Slut theme. I had actually contemplated donning a lace-back corset myself but since I was going solo, I decided to err on the side of somewhat frumpy. Thank doG I did since the expected field of cleavage instantly failed to be on display. Other than that, I came across two lovely ladies who each held a squirming bunny clad in bunny S&M fashion — or a “bunny harness” as the ladies coyly claimed. I got to hold said bunnies and have my photo taken so all was not lost.

A little later as I was daintily nibbling on a sausage dog [not of the canine variety but of the sausage meat variety], I spied a rather handsome fellow striding across the field with a determined gaze and a rugged masculine muscularity, despite that he was wearing some sort of skirt. I don’t really know what to call it besides “skirt” since it was a piece of fabric that was slung around his waist and fell to his ankles. It had a slit all the way up the side that was visible to me . . . and due to the gentle breeze blowing across the field it became immediately clear to me that the gentleman in question was . . . freeballing. For those of you unfamiliar with this term, I mean that he was utterly free of underwear … just allowing his junk to breathe freely of the fresh air. For a moment my centre-balanced brain had a brief struggle in trying to decide whether I should flag the gentleman down in order to inform him of his exposure … or whether to allow a flustered soccer mum to do so … or whether I had time to whip out my camera and record the moment for posterity. Unfortunately, the rascal got away before I was able to get to my camera.

I also went to a free water aerobics class at the local YMCA, thanks to a new female friend. Guys, do you ever think to check your swim trunks in a mirror before wearing them in public? Or maybe asking a buddy “Do my nuts hang out when I sit like this at the side of the pool?”

In other news, I took my first horse riding lesson. You’d be amazed at how many businesses and sole proprietors are willing to barter for their services. Why, if you’re willing to shovel just a few wagonloads of horseshit, you can find out just how much it hurts to walk for the next several days after wrapping your thighs around a muscular stallion! I was assigned to a beautiful gelding and because I am a petite little thing, at ground level his plonker was consistently in my line of sight. Believe me, I didn’t want to look at it any more than I want to look at a car wreck. But there it was. And it kept moving. And every time I caught the movement in my peripheral vision I found myself glancing in horror again. At the same time I kept wondering if the trainer thought I was some kind of bestiality freak, but in truth, I was more afraid that I’d get bludgeoned to death by the plonker than kicked to death by the stallion’s back legs.

Since, technically-speaking I am on “vacation”, I also visited the local zoo a couple of weeks ago in scorching 90-F weather. I was particularly interested, of course, in seeing the Big Kats, and I was not disappointed to discover that the tigers and lions like to sleep right up against the glass wall that separates felines from bi-ped snacks:

Lookit how relaxed he is!

So, yeah, I’ve been getting out and about a bit, mostly for free. There is so much to do here and so many more places I want to check out. There’s a local bar that has been in business for something like 250 years and as I was driving past it the other day, I couldn’t resist stopping to take a photo:

Doesn’t that just bring a whole new meaning to “Cocktails”?

There’s also a local somewhat-gay dance club that I’d like to check out since gay clubs are usually so much more flamboyantly relaxed than those of the flaming heteros. I think I’ll wait on that since the past fortnight has been pretty ballsy what with one thing and another.

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This entry was posted on Tuesday, June 16th, 2009 at 9:22 am and is filed under Humour. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.