Two Weeks

I looked at the calendar today and realized that Sandy and I will be off to Vegas in exactly two weeks for the Shadow Lane party. Because we had to miss the party in March due to a family emergency, I’m very much looking forward to this one. It’s always like a nice vacation and utter craziness rolled into one. I am going to address some things here about the party — things that make my time there less than pleasant. This won’t be pretty.

Rather than go into a whole long dissertation about the subject, I’m just going to make a quick list of things that make the party experience less than stellar for me.

  1. Forlorn Salespeople of Spanking Oddities – Yes, I know that the spanking related cupie doll, pen & pencil set or wind-up coffee grinder seemed like a good idea at the time but I want to assure you that giving me a hard sell won’t make me buy it any faster if at all. Actually, it will make me uncomfortable especially when you give me the sad desperate eyes. I’ll feel bad and I still won’t buy it so all I’ll get out of the exchange is bad feelings and the memory of your sad, sad eyes. Cuts into my fun.
  2. Locust Men From Mars – While we’re on the subject of the Vendors Fair, can we please refrain from leaving half-eaten morsels all over the place and then just walking away. Nothing disgusts me more than piles and piles of abandoned shrimp remnants sitting under the glow of the ballroom’s fluorescent lights. Monuments to a momentary and fleeting gluttony. Shell fish? More like selfish.
  3. Gross Domestic Product – If you’re at a suite party, please flush the toilet. That’s all I need to say on that subject without this inadvertently becoming a scat blog.
  4. The Goldilocks Syndrome – If you’re in my room, I don’t mind if you’re on my bed but please refrain from crawling under the sheets and getting too comfortable. This is especially true if you’re still wearing shoes, sweat profusely or have gas. Doing these things is a quick way to end up going out the window whether there’s a swimming pool below or not and whether the window opens or not.
  5. Sad Sackery – I’m at a party and I don’t really want to hear it. Spanking parties and horrendous animal death stories don’t mix. Spanking parties and breakup stories don’t mix. Spanking parties and stories about how some person on the other side of the room was mean to you don’t mix (unless they are really, really juicy — then feel free to tell me). We’re all there to have fun — let’s give it the old college try.
  6. TMI Fridays – I love meeting people and making new friends. However, five minutes after meeting you, I don’t need to know that you were hospitalized for two years with clinical insanity, had a botched circumcision or love the smell of poop. Perhaps you’re looking for other poop smell lovers but spontaneously blurting it out while I’m sitting near a pile of shrimp remnants will cause the gorge to rise and will make me less likely to be your pal.

Hope this wasn’t too negative but I felt it had to be said. Sorry for all the scat talk.


7 Responses to “Two Weeks”

  1. Well said!!! Hahah 🙂

  2. Thank you so much. I so needed a laugh this afternoon. You do have a way with words.

  3. Well put, Rad. I agree with dawna, you do have a way with words! Speaking of which, I seem to remember you blogging last year ahead of the party about your thoughts about folks who bring in wheelbarrows of implements to the party. That was funny stuff too — and in both instances, bits of food for thought (rather like shrimp remnants?).

    I also think you wrote some tips for first-timers, although that may have been someone else. Might be worth doing again if it was you.

    Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some clinical insanity to deal with. Later!

  4. Oh my gosh – I need this laugh today!

  5. Lol – that was great. Even with the tragic death of my pony Chester, who loved the smell of poop….

  6. can I add one more?

    (7) I didn’t come here to compare toy bags with you. If your toy bag is more interesting than you are, you might want to consider working on being a little less boring, because showing me all you toys and telling me the story behind every one is not working out. If your name is Ian the London Tanner then you are exempted.

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