September 30th, 2002
|12:22 pm - A very special day|
I had a wonderful Sunday. My workplace had a booth at the Folsom Street Fair this year. Even better, we were just giving stuff away. Amidst the overpriced food, drink and leather accouterment we had to convince people, at times with a riding crop, that our stuff was FREE and that they needed to take it.
I love working at a place that has a booth at the biggest perv fair in the City. And it was nice to hear from the adoring customers instead of the annoyed ones. In fact, it was pretty refreshing since the night before I had to deal with one of the most obnoxious customers I’ve seen for a long time. He went up to a biracial co-worker and said, "Do you speak English? Have you ever heard of tofu?"* My co-worker looked at him with a totally straight face and said, "To-fu? What’s that?", even though she was actually stocking it at the time.
But she was still pissed off, so I got on the store intercom a few times in the next 10 minutes and said "To-fu? What’s that?" in a mocking voice.
So it was really nice to have an appreciative audience yesterday. Because it is the leather fair, we brought licorice whips, Newman Os Tops and Bottoms (kinda of an organic Oreo but separated), organic fruit leather, condoms, lip balm, and temporary tattoos. A dyke friend and I decided to go as bears so she made thick fake mustaches for us (out of carpet I think), a belly wig for herself, and we wore more or less matching mirrored shades and macho baseball hats. Her "That’s Mr. Fag to You!" shirt outdid me though.
Unfortunately, as we dressed at the store, we got a panicked phone call from the booth telling us that they WERE OUT OF EVERYTHING. We quickly loaded up a handtruck with 10 more cases of fruit leather and a hug box of lip balm and headed out to the event. Trading off clearing the crowd and navigating the fully loaded cart, it took us about a half hour to get through the cheek to cheek crowd over the five blocks from the store. Overall it was very butch and went with our outfits. However, I worked up such a sweat that my mustache fell off when I joined the others at the table and took my first sip of beer.
My bear co-worker had a little song and dance for us to do that she had designed the previous day while working cheese. To that annoying, but catchy , Pink song she’d sing, "We’rrrrrrrrrrrrrre / Bruce and Lance /So you better get this party started." while holding a piece of cheddar in each gyrating hand. However without my ‘stache we called it off. The real bears were alternatively amused and upset by our outfits. One took offense when my co-worker said to the hairiest one of all, "You’re my mentor."
The wonderful thing about volunteering to do this event was that we could drink as much as we wanted since we weren’t on the clock. In fact, we soon found out that we all had smuggled beer into the event. My co-workers never cease to impress me. After a few hours we realized that everyone walking by was looking a lot cuter than they had been when we arrived. Time to stop drinking? Well, maybe. It’s always much more fun, I find, to be at a booth at a street fair rather than just walking around looking for fun. This way, the fun comes to you.
Eventually we gave away our fruit leather and lip balm and folded up our table. While we waited for the company truck to pick us up, we were total freak magnets. People were taking pictures, weird boys with Klingon ears were offering massages. In fact, the last-call dregs of the entire fair seemed to be attracted to us. At one point we had three fucked up, creepy guys hovering around us asking for beatings, cigarettes, beer or just staring. After we chased them away, we didn’t let anyone even pause. As soon as some creepy-vibed dude slowed down, we all started yelling, "NO! Keep moving. Nothing to see here."
Though at this point I did see an ex looking especially hott in a PVC enema nurse outfit. She pointedly didn’t introduce me to the boy she was with. I also said, "Oh my god, a Young Pioneer uniform fetish!" to a guy with commie pins and a red scarf. He stopped, amazed, "You’re the first person to get it all day!"
"I have kind of a commie fetish myself," I replied.
And then it was time to meet my housies at Walzwerk , an East German restaurant celebrating its anniversary. I love German food and this place is done up in the kitsch of the owner’s youth. With all the Social Realist art, I should have invited the Young Pioneer to come with me. I did have my Hungarian Young Pioneer housemate though. We ate free sausages, potato salad, chocolate desserts and drank very expensive beer at cost. I ran into a lonely sales rep who had had a huge fight with last year, but we chatted and discussed food.
And then I walked home with my housemates and went to bed. What a special day.
*Ignore for a second that tofu has only become an English word relatively recently.
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