I’m finding myself getting into old pin-up images lately. I even added a site to my sidebar for you to check out. Just fer fun.
I love this one.
And by the way, I’m on page 383. I feel all fluttery just turning each page. Please enjoy the image (er, deflection) below whilst I continue to read Harry Potter.
Thankee.
Shhhhhhhh ………..
No spoilers!
I had it with me at work today and someone walked in, gasped when he saw it on the counter, and asked if he could touch the book.
Which I thought was weird.
Two gaye customers, explaining to me — although I did not ask — how girls become boys, aka trans*xuals:
GUY 1: Well, Tracey ….. what happens is a woman takes the male hormones and I think, after that, a certain part of the female anatomy grows longer.
TRACEY: Oh. Uh-huh.
GUY 1: (with utter certainty and emphasis) The cl*toris.
TRACEY: Okay. Hm. So it’s suddenly like a balloon animal or something?
GUY 2: Yeah, it’s a balloon animal and then it becomes her pee-pee.
Oh, man. I found my head shot from my theater days in Seattle. Hahaha. This is so embarrassing.
Okay. My boyfriend at the time — eventually fiance, later ex-fiance — took this photo. Oh, and he wasn’t the moon-faced one. This was Fiance #2, The Brooding Artiste. I haven’t really even begun to write about him. And no, I wasn’t some kind of trollop or anything. Really.
But — oh, Lord. I think I was literally trying to seduce him with my eyes. Looking at this photo now makes me squirm in my seat, frankly. Like What are you doing, Tracey? Please calm your lusty eyeballs down! He’s not THAT great.
Later, I blithely trotted all around town, from audition to audition, with 8 x 10 glossies of this attempted celluloid seduction. Please fall in love with my lusty eyeballs, directors, and cast me, ‘kay?!
And one l*sbian director kinda did. How awkward. But I got offered the part. And took it. How awkward.
The photo was black and white, but I sepia-ed it, just for fun. Scanned kinda grainy. But you get the basic idea. Lord. Watch out, l*sbians!
I’ve found a bunch of random photos lately. So here’s one.
MB and friends’ daughter, Belle, at the piano. MB is actually playing. Belle is, uh, trying. With all her might, you see.
BE FOREWARNED!!!
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Uhm. I’m just relaying some of the scenes from Gaye Pryde here.
PARENTAL ADVISORY. I’M STILL SERIOUS!!
So I was out front of Boheme at one point during the parade. We were serving street-side iced drinks and hot coffee, blah blah. I was minding my own business, literally. Trying to mostly keep my head down. The crowd just beyond me was thick, so it was actually somewhat hard to see the parade, except for any elevated floats. But I was just standing there — yo dee doh — and these two chicks walked by — more accurately, uh, one chick was dragging the other behind her on a leash. The leashed one had her hands tied behind her back and wore these — I’m not sure exactly — shorts, I guess, red garbage bag looking things. I’m not into BeeDeeSM — (don’t know how to write that to avoid spam) — shocking, I know, but maybe there’s a name for them other than “red garbage bag shorts”? A name I don’t really want to know? Anyway …. it’s kind of shadowy in this photo, but the leashed one there was also topless. Yep. I was pouring coffee when right in front of me — Hulllooo! — there they were, her beleaguered girls, n*pples painted over to look like glitter stars. And leashed girl was very ornery, as part of the whole bit, I imagine. Pulling on her leash, not moving when called, moaning, being a very bad dog! or whatevs. MB had his cell phone and snapped some pictures, more in utter disbelief than anything. I think it was one of the most insane things I’ve ever seen. They did this up and down the sidewalk, their little BeeDeeSM tug of war, being totally into it — unless they saw someone snapping a photo. Then they would stop and pose.
Maybe they’ll get a nice shot for this year’s Christmas card.
“My people are gross.”
~ My virgin — because, well, he’s afraid of gaye sex but now that I think of it, why does everyone tell me everything, anyway? — gaye friend J, muttering under his breath while watching float after float of shiny muscled men gyrating in Speedos.
I was so choked with laughter I nearly fell over.
I was grousing to my gaye friend C about a particularly impossible customer who’d just come through Boheme. He listened sympathetically and then raised his hands to Jesus revival-style, crying, “Oh, LAAAWWD, please DRY this river of retardedness flowing through heeyah right now!!”
