July 15, 2000as the käthe turns
I gotta stop letting Dionne drive me places, else I end up in places like our local condom
warehouse store.It all started so innocently. We were supposed to go to Sick Fest, a film showing of Ryan
McCormick's [re: pathetic guy who keeps giving me beads and hitting on me] film among
other student productions at FSU. We met up with Dionne's ex who was meeting us
there. After some awkward conversation and turning down his invite to go play pool with
him we set out to try to find something to do in Tallahassee on a Saturday night.Ha!
So while on Macomb, after I mentioned that we should go whore ourselves out [Macomb is the
hooker street], Dionne got the bright idea into her head to go to the Condomology
Warehouse. I need to learn to keep my mouth shut. Her rationale for the whole adventure
was that going to the Warehouse was one of the two things she needs to do before she
leaves for London in December, and tonight would be the perfect night to do it. Eeek!Dionne parks in the back, giving some excuse about not wanting to make that turn to park
in front of the store. Whatever. I told her that we needed our IDs to get in, but once
again she didn't heed my advice. She apparently learned to block half my babble out long
ago, too bad it actually comes in handy when she *doesn't* listen to me. Now I need to learn that trick with myself.We walk in, and immediately this guy in a black shirt walks up and asks for ID. I turn to Dionne but she's already out the door back to the car, conveniently leaving me to talk to semi-cute
Condomology worker. Yea. Blah blah blah eroticacakes and Dionne's back....with a
"friend"...yet another Condomology worker that has nothing better to do than to hit on their
20-something female clientele. Ok, what am I saying? <laugh>So Dionne and I take a trek around what is apparently the Dildo Section. I giggle at the
wind-up glow-in-the-dark penis, and nearly fall over spotting the monkey dildo....while
visions of a drunken Bongo filled my head. I pointed to it and said, "Drunky monkey." Ok, I didn't, but I sure as hell wanted to. Even in Condomology I'm still trying to be the Farscape Fairy. Avoiding the prominent display of porn titles we were drawn into conversation with
Dionne's "friend". We gave him fake names, Dionne was Addie and I was Fiona. We talked about voodoo, he tried to make a hook up in London with Dionne and he gave us the low down on Greenwich Village drag queens.We examined the shoes next, all made for very tiny Asian women. Then onto the lingerie,
basically scrap pieces of silver lame from Wal-Mart with tons of fringe. Dionne identified
a ballet recital outfit for a six year old, and I found the Condomoloy version of her prom dress. My "friend" came by repeatedly to try to help us with anything...and to make semi-suggestive comments about some of the garments.Käthe says something about how skanky these "dresses" are.
Mr. I'm Trying to Make the Vacuum an Erotic Object: Well, they might look bad on the rack,
but most of them look pretty good when you try them on. <wink wink nudge nudge>I'm not sure if he was speaking from experience or not on that one.
At that point Dionne and I mutally ushered ourselves out of the store to ood-byes from our new found friends, and left to wishes that we would return again soon.
Thus ends another adventure of As the Käthe Turns.
* "As the Käthe Turns" was a term coined by Corde on the Iowa trip. I have no idea what it's referring to. Really. It was past one am and I was lying on the hotel bed from the effects of that damn margarita.
