Wednesday, March 21, 2007

Les Folies Vaginales

A barking need for attention is easily mistaken for dramatic flair.

And so last night I was asked for the 100th time in recent memory, "have you spent any time in the theater?"

The answer is no. Apart from weekly classes in amateur improv, I have never sullied a stage.

I do, on the other hand, love to put on a show. And for my birthday last week I went a bit overboard.

I searched high and settled low in selecting the motif. I wanted a theme that people could get into.

And while my dream of turning the entry hall into a giant Slip N' Slide did not come true, les Folies Vaginales afforded an impressive array of absurdity.

I spent a ridiculous amount of time in preparing this - feathering the apartment, slitting dates and stuffing them with marscapone, making labia garnish out of strawberries... all of the usual things that one does.

I sampled cocktail recipes while making my costume (above) and built a playlist of very nasty songs.

But nothing that I did (and I did a lot) could compare with what came out of the guests.

In the category of dress, the biggest surprise came from a pair of (gasp!) french boys. They donned homemade t-shirts labeled grandes and petites levres, and wore necklaces strung with bic razors.

Girls in every labial hue were monitored carefully by a British gynecologist. And there were more fur accents in that apartment than on a Croatian nudie beach.

But the audience participation was not limited to costume.

Some brought vaginal artwork. Others made labial folds out of ham. Music and videos, boxes of all shapes and sizes, pervy chocolates and candies, the list goes on and on...

But the best form of participation is always dance. And people got down for the vagina. There was blouse-popping, booty shaking action under the nightie light.

Take this Dan kid at left: a soft-spoken intellectual type by day. Get a couple of kir vaginales in him and he's suddenly spinning Nardac like a top.

At the end of the night, following much drunken singing, someone made a musical vagina out of a vaccuum tube. You'll have to click here to see what I mean.

Something about the evening seemed to have put people in the mood. At least six (however temporary) couples were formed, and that's not even counting Steve and his friends here. I myself retired alone and happy around 6:30 am.

A vulvatic thank you to everyone who came. You made me a very happy birthday girl, indeed.

9 comments:

l'embrouillamini said...

Phew! Sounds crazy. Your costume looks lovely - not trying to sound like some kind of skeleton lover but you have a lovely collarbone! Bonne anniversaire.

nardac said...

I don't remember that. It didn't happen.

le Meg said...

Thanks, Embrouillamini! It's quite handy as a crumb catcher.

And Nardac, let me refresh your memory.

nardac said...

Hmmm... that's not conclusive. It looks like I'm screaming along to some song and he just managed to grab me but I'm subtly moving away in standard pop singalong pose. In any case, no offense to Dan, but I never spin like a top.

le Meg said...

The lady doth protest too much, methinks.

edvard moonke said...

as a man with an established tradition for vagina worship, I feel rather upset that I wasn't invited... >-(

oh and the instrument could be called something like aboriginal vaginale perhaps?

nardac said...

I just think you have an overactive imagination and have exploited it for spectacle.

L'Anglosaxonne said...

that is no way to eat a corn on the cob, even with pussy ears. the butter must have dribbled all down Rhino's shirt....

Anonymous said...

Vagina should be worshipped all over the world