Amsterdam is one of the original cities of free love, complete with a gigantic obelisk (cough cough, phallic, cough cough) in Dam square where all the hippies used to hang out, half (or fully) naked while tripping on acid. And while LSD isn't the daily staple anymore (soooooo 1960s), that whole sexual freedom thing is still ringing, except now in the form of commercial tourism. (favorite thing ever said to me in the red light district: "Ladies, ladies, big cock? big cock?")
Despite my past promiscuity, I'm kinda a prude when it comes to me. (why do it yourself? What the hell are men for?) Already one of my colleagues at work is declaring that I absolutely must go to a live sex show while living here and that something called the "Banana Bar" is a bit of a uh, spectacle. So, unless I've actually been rufied (sp?), I'm going to take a pass on the later (I've seen what women can do with Canadian Loonies; I can infer what they do with bananas). But I have promised myself that under the escort of Senor Cuervo, I will, someday, go watch people bang on stage. (apparently, it's actually really tasteful. Okay, not tasteful, but not like Japanese-porn raunchy. There are supposed to be acts -- like guy and girl, girl and self, girl and girl and guy, etc. And I've heard people clap for good performances. Like your curiosity isn't also peaked? Come on!)
Many a friend have insisted I get into myself, and one went so far as to purchase me a vibrator as a going away present (what is it with being abroad and vibrators? Though unlike Anna I wash my sheets). You'll all be proud to know that (drum roll) I took it out of the package and put a battery in it! Now all I have to do is use it (there won't be a post about that, sorry....).
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1 comment:
Thanks for the shout out. Really, thanks.
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