April 28-29 Weekend Review

  In the spirit that inspires this blog, I visited one of the events from the past weekend. I give Cocktales eight out of nine Mr. Limpys. (All links probably NSFW).

   Cocktales was a Writer's Festival event hosted by Venus Envy. I've never been to Venus Envy before and didn't suppose that a visit was necessary — you've seen one sex shop, you've seen 'em all. You have to ledge-walk between shelves hoping you don't knock over one of the “couples” board games and people think you've dropped it in your excitement, or try not to stare into the cavernous displays from the DVD shelves, or dodge poorly placed accessories.

   In these stuffed and dank shops you're being held hostage by your own disgusting sexuality.

disgusting.

    Refreshingly, Venus Envy is well-lit, pleasantly spaced, and has a crazy amount of educational books that don't always explicitly deal with sex but with health. Brochures and posters advocating safe sex and sexual health line the store. It is an open and respectful environment for talking about sex.
It's wonderful.

  

  The readers were fantastic. Daniel Allen Cox (he he!) of Basement With Wolves, Jasmine Aziz of Sex and Samosas, Nerys Parry of Men & Other Natural Disasters, and Tamara Faith Berger of Maidenhead were all awesome, articulate, and funny. I thought that the event was going to be a panel discussion on sex but it was actually a book reading. Then I thought that the readings would be Harlequin-y. However, each of the stories could stand on their own even if they removed the sex.

   It was a really great time.

   EXCEPT! This penis-looking mother-effer bought a carrot, cucumber, and gravel sandwich and was obviously worried he would choke to death. He would not stop chewing. He would unhinge his jaw, take a massive bite, and mash that single bite in his mouth for minutes. MINUTES. You could see his stupid tendons and head-veins moving under his skin. It was awful.

   Then — as if to prove that he is an asshole in all areas of his life — he chucks the sandwich garbage underneath the chair of the person in front of him. I hate him.