cindy's world

(rest mouse over photos for captions)

Saturday was spent at the Renaissance Pleasure Faire with Mr. W, my bailiff and his girlfriend. If you’ve never been to a Renaissance Faire, it is the most bawdy place ever. Gravity-defying cleavage and sexually connotated double entendres thrown shamelessly everywhere a la Billy Shakespeare. During a joust, I even received a coupon that reads in old English calligraphy: This card entitles the bearer to ONE FREE KISS from any willing man, woman or beast. I read this, looked up and inquired, “How does one know if a beast is willing?” If you’re under 17 or you’re related to me and don’t want to read about my participation in this land of sin, stop reading now.

I got dressed up, which made no sense because I’m Asian, so to add to the confusion, Mr. W bought me a pair of fawn horns. Not fawn as in a little deer, but fawn as in woodland mythological beast. He in turn had more obvious twisted longish white horns on. It matched his devilish look and impish smile well, everyone (strangers mostly) kept commenting. One lady selling corsages in a basket (which women wear tucked into the cleavage to decorate the breasts) said to Mr. W, “My good sir, I see you’ve let your horny lady walk around naked and yet you’ve plowed her and left her no garden! ‘Tis shameless! Here are some flowers for her fertile hillside.” He selected a heavenly-scented gardenia which was tucked into a regular florists’ plastic tube of water, and with her instruction, he pried my boobs apart a bit while she pushed the cold tube into my cleavage. “She’s tight, you lucky sire!” she said to him. (I have a really funky tan line on my chest now, by the way.) At an alcohol booth, a young lady filling Mr. W’s drink order saw my gardenia and asked to “smell [my] flower.” I stepped up onto a low step in front of the counter and leaned forward and she stuck her nose into my boobs and inhaled, saying, “Mmmm.”

At one point, Mr. W had gone to the restroom (or “privies”) and my bailiff and his girlfriend had gone to the food court. So I sat alone on a bench in a court, in front of this:

I was doing my usual avoid-all-eye-contact thing on this bench, when out of the corner of my eye, I could see a man walking toward me, in nobility attire (probably one of the RenFaire actors), with a similarly dressed man. He separated from his friend and came too close into my personal space, and stopped, as tho willing me to turn and look up at him. So finally I did.

Him: You have horns on your head.
Me: Yes, I know. I’m “horny.”
Him: You stole my line! I was gonna say that next.
Me: I’ve been hearing it all day. “You’re a horny girl,” “Since you’re horny, you would appreciate a nice piece of wood between your legs.” (Said by a “ride operator” referring to the large wooden rocking horse ride.)
Him: (turning his hip so that the ornate hilt of his sword is exposed and pointing at me from under his cape) Wood? What about steel?
Me: Well, I suppose steel is firmer than wood.
Him: (turning so that it appears to anyone not standing to our side that he’s thrusting his hips toward me from underneath his cape) You wanna touch it? You can touch it.
Me: (eyeing the sword) No, I might be tempted to unsheathe it.
Him: (pulling open the cape and exposing the leather lacing up the side of the sheath) You won’t be able to. It’s peace-laced.
Me: (raising an eyebrow looking at his face) Hmm, it sounds like a challenge now.

His friend had been looking back and forth at first amused, and then shocked, and then impressed. I now looked at his friend who was standing to the side and I waved a hand at him and said, “Eh, we could go on like this all day,” and gave him his friend back and the two walked away.

This politician was walking around smiling into his frame and asking people to vote for him.

When I walked away from this guy, he said, “Now you’re well-hung.” I said, “Hmm. I’ve never been well-hung before.” He said, “Or forcibly mounted, whichever you prefer.” I said, “I definitely prefer the latter.”

The horns made me do it.