Today Rusty and I went to Frolicon… for about an hour.
Last year I was really annoyed that Frolicon was the same weekend as PodCamp NYC, which meant we’d miss it because we already had plans to go to New York. I interviewed Beth, one of the organizers, and she was a total sweetheart. I vowed that we wouldn’t miss Frolicon 2008! (And yet I wrote about it on Radlanta as if I knew what I was talking about.)
But as the day got closer, I was less and less excited about it. I guess after going to more events along similar themes, I had more of an expectation that this wouldn’t be my cup of tea. Really I only went in order to put a stack of Sex 2.0 postcards and condoms on the swag* table. Then I got mad at myself because I didn’t think ahead enough to include that stuff in the swag bags everyone gets at registration; there were postcards in there for Whippersnappers, Swinging Atlanta, SELF, and other groups/events like that. Why didn’t I think of that? I was so pissed.
Still, hopefully some new registrants will come out of the stack on the table. As we were leaving I saw a few people stopping by and looking at stuff. One guy started talking to me about Camille Paglia as I was putting the postcards on the table. That was kind of weird.
So yeah, we only stayed for about an hour, and most of that time was spent paying way too much money for a mediocre buffet lunch. What can I say, fetish/kink/BDSM stuff just doesn’t do it for me. In fact, it kind of irritates me. More power to people who are into it - some of my best friends, etc. This isn’t a slam or judgment on folks who like that stuff. I’m just not one of ‘em. I like fucking. I can’t be bothered with all the costumes and role-playing and master/slave this and foot-worship that and yadda yadda yadda.
Speaking of fucking, we briefly considered going to Trapeze tonight, because a couple who’d commented on our Trapeze review podcast said they were going, and we’re interested in meeting them at some point. But I’m still on the tail-end of the haze while my body chemistry adjusts to Lexapro, plus I’m on my period, so we figured it’s not the best night to go. I wouldn’t be feeling up to it because of the meds, but also that period thing… it’s like one of the last taboos. In Best Sex Writing 2008, Trixie Fontaine writes about her problems with getting credit card billing companies for her period porn site… it’s considered “extreme,” and even though they’ll deal with pretty much anything else you can imagine (and plenty of stuff you can’t), somehow a woman’s period is THE GROSSEST THING EVER. What the hell! Why is it such a big fucking deal?? (That’s a rhetorical question, so don’t bother trying to come up with an answer. THERE ISN’T ONE.) Seriously. If you can’t handle the fact that yes, most women get their period every month, and no, your dick won’t shrivel up and fall off if you fuck her during that time… then just turn in your Sex Card right now, because you don’t deserve it.
Well, I was going to write about how I got a manicure the other day, but I can’t think of a clever transition and this is long enough already. So I’ll write about the manicure thing tomorrow, because it’s likely to spiral off into a tangent about class and expectations and social stratification. Betcha can’t wait!
* I’ve recently learned that the spelling “schwag” refers to marijuana. “Swag” is actually an acronym… “stuff we all get!”
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