After being exceptionally lazy all day yesterday, my Sunday was livened up by the only thing that really can: Public Nudity.
One of my favorite new people and I braved that which is the suburbs to attend the scatterbrained and overtly sex-charged play, “Dial ‘P’ for Pasties” (probably NSFW). The five actors were extremely witty, adept at improvisation, and very comfortable with stripping down to their skivvies while dancing. There was only a faint semblance of a plotline, but since the one-liners making fun of the show’s low budget and many required stretches-of-imagination were abundant and hilarious, we had a marvelous time. The narrator/star of the show sang a song about bestiality that had my friend in tears and me nearly hyperventilating from laughter; consequently, I can’t remember nearly as much as I’d like, but I do recall a couple of the lines that about caused me to have an accident.
“I fuck chickens… My daddy wonders why their eggs are always scrambled”
“I fuck chickens… I got an STD at KFC”
(Yes, I have a twisted sense of humor. This was exemplified by the fact that out of the 100 or so people there, my friend and I were pretty much the only two laughing like hyenas. But hey, it was the suburbs of Virginia. On a Sunday. What’s a church?)
Sidenote, I think it speaks volumes about us that out of all the merchandise they had on sale after the show, my friend and I went straight for the matching underwear and had both purchased a pair within a minute of spotting them.
And that we managed to meet up with some townies and drag them out to a regulars bar, where we stayed late into the night talking about sex, drugs and rock ‘n’ roll. You know. The yoosh.
{ 1 comment }
Very interesting indeed…