Saturday, March 19, 2005

Porn. Porn. Porn.

Oh.

My.

God.

I just got back from a bar in hollywood. Let me just tell you - nineteen twenties porn. I shit you not. Everyone was dressed in their best 1920s costume - which I can appreciate - I wore a vintage flapper dress to my prom in 1992 - but seriously, I was not prepared for what was displayed on all walls of this tiny bar. PORN. 1920s style. Seriously. BLOW JOBS. Men in knickers getting blowjobs. And let me tell you, no one knew what a razor was for.......I will never be the same. I will certainly go back.

UPDATE - SATURDAY MORNING
Wow. My drunken rant last night doesn't do it justice. Let me explain....
So I walk into this tiny little hole in the wall pub on Santa Monica Blvd. Immediately, I like this place. The sound of a player piano. The bartender's wearing a wife-beater, pinstriped pants and suspenders. Girls are frolicking on the dance floor with large feathers or other hats on their heads. Everyone's doing the Charleston. I order an overpriced margarita and choke it down. I should not have ordered a drink at all since the couple I already had at the Drawing Room were effective enough. I look around at the crowd. It's then that I notice. There are movie screens on the walls. But each screen is showing the same film. Clearly not projected 8mm or 16mm film, but it looks like an old movie. Hmmm. Then, the pants come off. I never knew there was porn in the 20s. Tamara said she'd do a little research. For the rest of the evening, it was hard to concentrate on a conversation, what with all the jiggling asses and stuff on the walls. Right about the time I felt like I was going to throw up my Benito's fish taco, we went home.



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