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Effluvia Links from today's entry: Journals
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10/10/2000 Girls In Bondage Gear In which I become a parody of myself. Ten-ten-two thousand? Isn't that one of those numbers you call to save money on long distance?
I took the afternoon off of work and went shopping for eyeliner and leather pants. The great thing about being married to Sonya is that we can wear the same pants. But we've only got one pair of vinyl ones, so we needed a pair of leather to complete the collection. Otherwise only one of us can go out to fetish clubs at a time, and I was sick of sitting home and watching "Friends" while she was out dancing and ordering drinks from girls in bondage gear. I went to a store with "Dungeon" in the name -- seems like you can buy leather pants just about anywhere these days, which I find a little disturbing. They're just so closely tied to S&M (no pun intended) and rock stars that it's really disconcerting to see them in the window of, say, Baby Gap. So I really felt like I should have the Buying Leather Pants experience. At the Dungeon, the sales clerks were all painfully thin, with safety pins through various parts of their anatomies -- many contenders there for Gothic Babe of the Week. I felt right at home. The Gothic Babes were very helpful, and told me my ass looked great in the leather pants. They were even nice enough to hem them for me; I guess you get good at sewing when you're always making your own cloaks and corsets and stuff. Out on the street, I ran into one of my co-workers. We said hi, and he asked what was in the bag, "Oh, just an eyeliner," I told him, "and my new pair of leather pants." We stood and talked for a while. He was going into the Dungeon too, it turned out, for a studded collar. (Casual Fridays at the office, you know.) "I should really go," I said. "My wife's expecting me home soon." He looked at me funny, and then relaxed. "Oh right," he said, "your life partner. I get it." "Oh no," I said, "my lovely wife Sonya." "But you just bought an eyeliner," he said, "and a pair of leather pants. What are you doing with a wife?" "Oh, we share the pants," I told him, and he kind of nodded and walked off -- awfully fast, it seemed. I seem to get that "what are you doing with a wife?" thing a lot. I wonder why... Anyway, The Wife was making meatloaf when I got home, and we strutted around in our vinyl and leather pants, respectively, lip-synching to old Duran Duran records until it was time for dinner. |
The similarities just get more and more eerie. We were 
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