holy dildo

Roared home on Friday feeling catatonic, hanging like a donkey's nutsack and almost wanting to burst into tears at the notion of being the President of Sex Club.

Being president of a sex club is the tits, but the hangover was obliterating my previously outrageous enthusiasm. I had one hour to pull myself together, before sex toy lady and 15 raucous mates came over, oh, and roll up my rug and hide him away.

Dressed up like a slapper and immediately felt better.

God I love dressing up like a tart. Stockings, heels, furry hand cuffs attached to a tiny skirt. The lady and mates came over, and she laid out about 16 types of plastic penis contraptions - all colours, sizes, motions...and we played Pass The Vibrator, and marveled at the The Dolphin's ability to vibrate in various frequencies, and the little rotating pearl thingies in The Rabbit.

We drank wine and vodka and talked female masturbation.
Chrysler, what bliss.

Then she bought out the lingerie and dress-up rack. People went ballistic. Trying on lingerie, modeling around in it, a police-woman's pleather outfit (with a free plastic gun! I loved that – a free gun and holster!) I found a nurses outfit and proceeded to stay in it until the next morning.

I have a French maid uniform already. It's time for my medical side to feel the fire with a nurse concoction, frankly.

We went out and with Guy I'm Having A Lot Of Fun With At The Moment – I stayed at his house, and awoke in my nurses outfit, to all his digs mates.

Nice. And it's not even my hen's party or nothing. People came up to us at the club and said the usual stuff like, 'Oh is someone getting married?'

Klo: No, no no-one's getting hitched here.
Dude: And the girl in the nurses outfit?
Klo: No, not even.
Dude: Is it her birthday?
Klo: No, not even.
Dude: So what's the occasion.
Klo: Because we fucking can.

Just a pity my nurse hat didn't sit erect on my head, and kind of flopped over to look like an eye patch most of the time. I just wanted to lumbar punch people.

Fuck it was fun. Too much fun, in fact.

And of course at the end, the lights came on and the bouncers escorted us out of there (not Mandog's – the other club). At 4:00am, we were there right till the end. I haven't done that in almost two years.

In the parking lot, the rest of the place and my mates are hooking up and I'm screaming across to a mate who was about to...head to the south for a napover and I just didn't think this was ideal, so I was in Fun Guy's car ska-reeeming like Will Ferrel...'SARAH.
FUCK!
GET. IN.
SARAH GET IN.
IN THE CAR NOW.'

While Klo is screaming the same thing from the other direction.

Then, Fun Guy and I pulled into the Engen garage so I could get a microwave macaroni meal. And realised, quickly and painfully mind you, I hadn't had a wee for about 5 hours. Suddenly it was epic, but there was no fine way in hell I'd be utilising the garage can. So I was hobbling around, clutching my huge bladder and Fun Guy had to pull me out of the veggie rack and smoothie refrigerator a few times. I had to wee so badly.

'Dude. FUCK. Stop going over the speed bumps like that. Do you want me to wee in your car? Do you?'

I then emptied my bladder for about 3 blissful hours once in the immediate proximity of a domestic toilet.

Seriously though, what fun. We bought so much sex stuff. A great kick off to Sex Club. Shit, can't wait for the next one.

Saturday I had no voice left. But saw Doc – yay my friend is back! - for a glass of wine, and sunglasses at night inside because I was not feeling good, not one little bit – then went home and slept for 14 solid hours.

Tell me: because I want to know – male doondies. OK, would guys ever wear normal flowing boxer shorts over their doondies as a compromise? I think it's a pretty fucking fair compromise – they get testicle support, and we don't have to see it.
Huh? HUH?