Quote:
Originally posted by SlaveNoMore
I've been on vacation.
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Ah, vacation. I could really run with this, BUT . . .
I know all you lookie loos are dying for a more detailed account of ACL and now that I have had sufficient recovery time I am happy to oblige. Please understand that the views expressed in this post are mine alone and may not reflect the expreriences of other ACLers, reality, or the fine ACL promoters, who are probably too busy counting their money to read this board.
The ACL experience started a little early this year. RT and I met with e/o and her Band of Vampires (BOVs). We met at a chic restaurant/nightclub called [
name not remembered] for Mexitinis, Dos Equis, Makers Mark, some coffee liqueur handed out by the friendly coffee liqueur promotions chick, and something red served in overly large Burgandy glasses. The BOVs were in fine form, providing many laughs and their hypnotic aura that seemed to attract chicks that boosted my self-esteem from being seen within 10 feet of them. During the riotous conversation with the BOVs, they announced that RT was a lesbian (or, in the alternative, that she and I are sleeping together), speculated and commented upon the probablity of my rib-eating Cherokee ancestry, and determined that one of them would marry RT's sister in order to lounge on the porch at the ranch while ice cream was hand-made for him by a crew of peasant Mexicans. The BOVs also discussed a friend of theirs, the Whiney Bitch, while he sat at the opposite end of the table, quietly whining and bitching.
We left, Cherokee war-whooping up Lavaca to go to [
name not remembered]. The BOVs led us past the lines and through the velvet rope to a chic bar featuring nonintrusive techno music, minimalist interior design, and even more minimalist clothing on the unending stream of exceptional Texas beauties flowing through the door. My jaw was glued to the floor and this facilitated the hasty consumption of alcohol. We drank a bunch of things and a lot of them. One of the BOVs politely declined my offer of a krumping showdown, so I sat in the overstuffed chairs and took in the scenery which, in addition to the lovelies, included several current and former professional athletes and, I think, Billy Idol.
Next we went to [
denomine no recordado], but didn't stay long because no one but RT knew how to salsa. The BOVs next war-whooped us through another velvet rope to [
name not remembered], where things start to get really fuzzy for me, but I remember there being drinks and music. And I think there may have been dancing between cocktails made with what I recall as being Ketel One and Scope.
I was informed that e/o's sex dungeon was booked for the evening, so I somehow managed to be transported to Casa de Shifter. Was it a dream, or was there naked outdoor frolicking involving pecan branches and tilapia?
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