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So last night, I went to a fetish party.

This is not something I normally do, but what the hell. A buddy of mine had offered to act as my mobile shield wall/native guide, and while you can accuse me of many, many things, lack of curiosity is not among them. The reasons I wanted to be an anthropologist were not all related to having seen Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom five hundred times.

And it was interesting. Not terribly well-populated, and admittedly there is only so much amusement I can derive from watching drunken frat boys electrocute various bits of their anatomy, but...interesting.  (Personally, electricity is of no erotic interest to me whatsoever--after that nerve conduction test a few years back, I can't even hear a bug zapper without twitching. Still, whatever floats your goat...) I suspect I am not enough of a voyeur to find such things really interesting, but like anything, it's probably more fun if you know more people.

This morning, I got up, entirely too early given how late I was out, and went to the flea market. Since my Fiestaware was the only survivor of my move, I took it as a sign and picked up an assortment, plus a couple of earthenware bowls that appealled to me.  And a duck decoy. I suspect I should resign myself to collecting duck decoys--I bought one a year or so back on a whim before I realized just how much I liked it, and have been keeping an idle eye out for them ever since. Mind you, this is not particularly a point in my life--living in a friend's house, everything I own in boxes, income severely curtailed--when I need to be buying duck decoys, but I run across them so rarely, and I have learned, like all collectors, to buy it when you see it, damnit.

So now my personal effects in my temporary base of operations consist of one suitcase of clothes, a radio, a stack of used books, a barong sculpture, a laptop and a duck decoy.  Because you gotta have the essentials, right?

In a remarkable display of synchronicity, I have an inflatable duck decoy which, according to the box, was manufactured by the Kink-o company.

The detritus of life seems to accumulate in my basement like that. (shrug)

How brave of you to go to that party (and collect the duck). Being from the Detroit area, I always figure those kind of parties mean possible violence - and I would never go to one. I am always curious about what people do though. Perhaps I read to much.

Actually, there are a lot of fetish events in the Triangle area, both of the frat-boy type, and the alcohol-forbidden, non-frat-boy, more interesting type which I tend to prefer. I'd be happy to give you links to some of the organizations, and even chaperon you if you feel the need =) (I'm not a complete stranger... I bought some prints from you at Mr. Toad's...)

Also, I thought I'd mention: there's a free community yoga class in Raleigh on sunday evenings, if you're looking for poor-friendly things to do just to get out of the house and get your mind on something else.

So last night, I went to a fetish party.

Wait, are you still staying with the missionaries? Because if so, breakfast this morning must have been...interesting, even if you didn't tell them. I mean, in my head I'd be going, "*singsong* Last night I went to a fetish party! Last night I went to a fetish party! And you have no ide-a!"

No, they left. Just as well, I couldn't have gotten through breakfast without collapsing into hysterical laughter from just that reason...

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It's a carved wooden (or in these lesser times, plastic) duck that fools real ducks. Used for hunting.