The circus with my 10-year old daughter. Should be fun, right? HELL NO! Don't get me wrong. Spending time with Kat is cool, she's a unique individual... But OMG Kids, parents, smells, sounds, jostling, lights, sounds, wires, sounds... Funny, because I LOVE a rock concert live, but I hate the noises at a circus.
Slow death of consciousness.
Half way through the first part, my teeth are on edge. Lobes are throbbing. Eyes accosted by four strobe lights on the floor, two disco balls on the ceiling, myriad lite-up wand souve-f*ckin-neirs waving every where. Loud, cheeztastic music and acrobatics. Shoot me now. There are only so many sinous supple bodies one wants to see in choreographed contortions. Even for an erotic writer! I mean -- Okay, so you can put your ass on your head, that's talent. But, do we need to see three women side-by-side-by-side with their asses on their heads?? NO While we're at it, add a ring of skinny bitches squiggling in hoola hoops whilst more skinny bitches swing from their necks two stories up. At each end! Oy. Bullet in the brainpan. Squish.
Then we can traipse the smelly, trained equines, camels and pachyderms through the rings. Let's all watch them dance beneath a whip, jump through rings aflame. A kid behind us squeals, "Ew, he's pooping!" Wonderful aroma after that! Add singed sinuses to the headache and eye trauma.
But, we're not done! Flipping, flopping, tights wearing foreigners. Yay.
Oo! How about dudes on dirt bikers expelling noxious fumes into a closed environment?! Yippee-f*cking-skippe.
Best part, aside from learning Kat was as bored as me?? I got to see skinny bitches swing from their necks two stories up. They didn't fall. Dammit.