We went out last evening and passed some time at the Golden Latrine. There was a fun crowd out. Tom the bartender played a DVD of a B B King concert. Jim and Godfrey provided food from the Bywater Barbecue. The doors were partly open inviting walkers in, and a cool breeze was keeping everybody inside comfortable. What could mess up a night like that?
Not one but two twinky, should-have-been-out-dancing queens showed up and placed themsleves in positions between everyone and the front doors. In just a few minutes my nasal passages began to shut down, my throat went dry, my heart started racing, and my lungs began to collapse. And no one found them attractive. Trust me.
Well, maybe Steve did, but Steve was finding altogether too many people attractive last night.
Why don't parents or school guidance counselors teach these clueless clods how to wear that shit?
Women know not to drench themselves in smelly oils. Well, ladies do. And they are always welcome at the Latrine.
All the rest of you, take the hint.
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