This weekend was full of all sorts of wacky hijinks and shenanigans. fizrep
made his debut as Ron Jeremy's First Apostle of Porn, using the powers of the digital camera to their utmost and generating the best in lesbian wheelchair pr0n. Impress-fraggin-ive. lemmywinks30
turned older and partied hardy under alcohol's soothing influence. katieledge
and I discovered, at 0330, a diner that dispensed with the thickest greasiest cheeseburger in the history of grease and cheese. ghostwriterxx
discovered the magical sweet power of peanut-butter Oreos, which I find quite tasty, although not quite in the same league as their minty cousins. Deadwood was its usual cocksuckingly funny hoopleheaded self.
But the highlight came in the middle of Sunday afternoon.perkyczarlet
and I took a walk through Central Park, taking advantage of the incredible weather that Mother Nature had finally seen fit to provide us with. The park was full of people- millions of New Yorkers came out to sunbathe, play ball and frisbee in the fields, walk their pets, and generally enjoy the atmosphere, even as we ourselves were doing. Granted, I almost lost her as we passed a team of scantily clad athletic males playing volleyball, but with a bit of effort I managed to pull her back on the path and continue our walk.
And then we found the gladiator.
I'll interject here and say that you can find some weird-ass shit in cities. Every city, probably. But I think New York City has a higher quantity or density of said weirdness. I've seen Times Square's Naked Cowboy and the Silver and Gold Machine Men. I've seen the Native American Pipers and Scottish Bagpipers in full highland garb. I've seen Spider-Man. I've seen musicians and break dancers on subways. Anyone who's been to New York has seen sights like these. But this was different.perkyczarlet
mistakenly called him a gladiator, having caught a glimpse of a tanned body and some metallic-looking gear under a tunnel. Curious, we stepped up to the railing and looked down at the roadway beneath us. Under the tunnel we could see the gentleman in question, but it was dark, and we were in the light, and there wasn't enough illumination to fully glimpse his majesty. And then he stepped out of the darkness and posed. He was dressed in, as far as I could tell, an Incan headdress and loincloth (perkyczarlet
inferred that he wasn't wearing much, if anything, under said golden-hued cloth), with some minor chest trappings and sandals and anklets that jingled. He carried a violin. Half of the violin appeared to have been burned, or at least charred, making it half-brown half-black.
Then the music started. And he danced. And he played the violin. Dancing, violining, twirling so his ankle jingly things jingled. Spinning so that his loincloth flew. The feathers on his big Incan headdress fluttered as he moved. It was surreal. But lo, he did not stop there. He began to sing. Opera, as far as I could tell. Quite a falsetto on that gentleman. Singing, Stringing, Spinning. perkyczarlet
tried to get a picture with her Treo, but the Inca in question strategically did his performance just out of the light, so that with the sun's glare she could get no more than a silhouette or a few body parts into a picture.
As she later remarked, "That was the weirdest thing I have ever seen in New York. Ever."
I'm hard-pressed to disagree with her.