and i'm not talking about yard sales...
saturday it was blue states lose.
they warned me, but i still opened it up.
and there, in full fabulous majesty, was some inbred glitterati queen who looked like he had gotten his iridescent mac body shimmer confused with his coke, dangling his shriveled cock and balls off the balcony.
(i do not miss drugs)
sunday it was in tompson square park.
with all the expensive pizza places on avenue b, tenement shit hole apartments with horrendously inflated rent, and clean up that has been done, this park is still home to some interesting characters. in the middle of a lovely, wholesome game of go fish with a few friends, i turn to stretch my back right as a homefully challenged gentleman to my left accidentally drops his pants, revealing his filthy, uncut, filthy (did i mention filthy?) member.
(15 feet away has never been so close, and i may or may not have thrown up a little in my mouth)
last night, it was at the yankees game.
at a major sporting event, one is never at a loss for stimuli. as i was surveying the tier and people around me, staring me right in the face, was the scrotum of the fat guy. in the seat right behind me. suddenly, all i could see were balls and belly.
(by that point, i never thought i'd want to have sex again)
of all the things to come in three's...
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