Brain Poops

WARNING:This post contains photos of painted and erotically costumed people. While there is no nudity displayed, anyone offended by such content or otherwise restricted from it should go to http://www.zombo.com in lieu of seeing those photos. You can do anything… at Zombocom.

In our last episode:

In the green room, George tells me that the projector isn’t coming in today at all and that we have been bumped till tomorrow’s panel. Nick and I say goodbye to Halcyon and Ashley and head back to the hotel to get some rest. We both look like we’re carrying a week’s worth of groceries under our eyes.

13:00 - At the Hotel

Nick wakes up before me to search out deck shoes in downtown San Francisco for his Magnum-PI-esque costume, so I’m alone for a few hours in the hotel.

I turn on the hotel television and watch the last two acts of ET. I wonder why I really cared about a moist-turd looking alien with an erectile neck. Must have been the big eyes. Disney knew about the “big eyes = cuteness” principle, and apparently so did Spielberg.

ET ends and Nick is still nowhere to be found. The only thing on television now is some guy who looks like my old chemistry teacher explaining how to make a wooden bowl using a lathe on a stump. I fall into that hypnotized insomniac state watching it and a few hours pass by. This is the closest my people will ever come to cryogenics, I think.

I go for a smoke downstairs and get a message from someone congratulating me on getting featured. As I finish my cig, Halcyon pokes out of his second-floor window and compliments me on Haberdashery.

“Thanks man,” I say. “Hey, could you check and see if it’s on the front page of Youtube? I know it was featured in Canada for a while, but I got an odd message.”

He pulls his head back into the room for a minute, then turtle heads it out again with a goofy smile. “Indeed it is. Congratulations!”

I give our street a good old fashioned howl and swagger back into the lobby. This feels like it’s going to be a good day, but the pride lasts only a few heartbeats before I realize it probably doesn’t matter and shrug it off.

15:30

Nick returns just in time for Emily to give us all a lift to the ball.

Halcyon has ditched his pinstripe vest getup for leatherboy chest straps, Ashley is wearing a pink bikini, and I’m wearing yesterday’s vest-and-fedora look that’s a little smelly but ironed. I curse at myself for not bringing something else to wear to the event, but decide it’s not going to make things better. Nick, in a t-shirt and jeans, is the least concerned with fashion and probably the most comfortable.

We arrive to find things much the same as the day before. Not too many people, a few more photographers, and all the same vendors. 9 dollar drinks, 6 dollar pizza slices and a bunch of 5 dollar costumes on 3 dollar personalities. Dressed up husks of people completely isolated from each other by the imagined bubble of social detachment. Everyone wants to be here, but nobody wants to be seen here.

The theater we were to be showing our videos in has been taken down, in favor of the projector screen being directly on the Burlesque stage. George is decked out in a pompadour and rockabilly gear, but can’t disguise his indifference to us YouTubers.

“No, the projector hasn’t shown up yet and no, we don’t know when you’re supposed to go on.”

My tongue coils like a snake, but my politeness puts it on a leash and rips out its fangs. Just because I have a dick doesn’t make me meaningless, you fuck-hole. You won’t give me the time of day but you duck into Ancilla’s dressing room every 30 seconds. I’m onto you and your fake tattoos, buckaroo, and I’m going to have a lot of fun burning you out of existence in Photoshop when I get home.

Passive-aggression WOW!

We all split up once again, but this time with less spring in our steps. Everything we could see we saw, for the most part, yesterday. The Ball doesn’t kick off until 8, so we do our best to stay entertained and busy.

Looking around, I find Nina Hartley at a booth signing DVDs. She is wearing blue tights with the crotch cut out and nothing else, save for her glasses. I’m, lets just say, familiar with her work so I wait out her talking to another vendor long enough to ask for a photo. She’s gracious in a sort of matronly way: a woman seeing shapes with cameras drooling at her all day, yet still polite and accommodating.

There’s nothing else to really see, so I photograph a few of the expo-goers and spend my time walking to various locations without need.

18:30 - Shut-down

Emily tells us that since the projector hasn’t shown up we aren’t going to be on a panel anymore. I’m a little frustrated, but for the most part everyone is relieved. I don’t think anyone expected people to pay attention to us anyhow.

The expo is closing down for two hours to shoo out the one-day-passers. Nick and I head back to the green room to change into our respective costumes. I get the hat, green Acapulco shirt and khakis on. The cigarette holder is familiar in my mouth, and helps me get down the Hunter diction.

I had ordered some yellow aviators and a white driving cap from an Ebay store a few days before I left but in spite of their quick reaction, the parcel arrived just after I had left on Friday. I was forced to make due, so I bought a different, but somewhat similar hat at Ross and some mirrored aviators to hopefully make due.

Ancilla is shuffling around in her dressing room, so I decide to show her some photos of the expo and her performance. I mention my costume and she knows the movie, but not the man. Well you can’t ask for everything, I think.

I gripe a bit about having to wear cop aviators, and she shows me her reading glasses: slightly tinted aviators. I try them on to find out [What luck!] that we have the same prescription. She graciously offers them to me for my costume, and I nervously accept on the promise that I get them back to her at all costs.

The costume is complete, or as complete as I can make it. I stick my industrial fly-swatter through a belt-loop and chomp down on my cigarette holder. I hear Halcyon and Ashley chatting in another dressing room with someone, and decide to investigate.

Nina Hartley is sitting against the far wall, munching on the rabbit food provided for the green room and talking shop with Ashley and Halcyon. Nick and I say hello and grab chairs to join them. As the conversation progresses, Nick gets changed into his tiny shorts and mustache to great approval. It’s like a magic trick to us, really: how a fully grown man can get into those shorts without being a eunuch.

Ancilla joins the group, and Nina discusses how she prefers transsexual men to transsexual women.

“With transsexual women, all you end up with is a guy with tits. That’s just not for me,” she says.

I nod my head in agreement, though I don’t entirely know why. It makes sense, I think, but I’m not much a fan of either.

Nina talks for a while about her relationship with her husband and working in the business, which somehow segues into the election. She carries herself with the dignity of a true Lady, comfortable in her lifestyle yet clever and polite. I gain respect for her outside of her performances, and realize I really don’t know Jack about the porn business or the people in it.

We ask for some photos of her with us, and she politely agrees.

CONTINUE to the CONCLUSION!