The Golden Compass Becomes The Golden “Rump”ous (My Quest For Sexiness In Victoria, BC)
“If I look through my nose and you look through your mouth, we’re bound to find some golden underwear.”
On my journey, many stops were made. Digging through Halloween super stores proved futile and a new approach was needed. Victoria’s high cougar population it turns was actually in reference to the cats, so I asked myself “what sort of sexually unabashed Canadian palace would sport such a unique item?” A sex shop perhaps?
Though there were gadgets and gismos a plenty, with who’s its and what’s its galore, being caught in a sequin studded rubber dildo factory did not bring me any closer to the prize. The golden underwear was proving more elusive than the man with the golden gun and 007 was nowhere in sight to help me on this.
“No matter what direction I look, I can never seem to find him.” - 007
To collect ourselves and our thoughts, we decided to make a brief stop at a local tea shop. It seems only fitting, that in the great white search for my unique item, I should come to a tea shop where the tender of the register had a unique feature herself. After taking my friend’s order, she turned around to get her drink. As she did I looked down and my eyes grew large. There before me was one of the best asses I’d ever seen on on white girl…ever!
Taa-daa!!! If only I didn’t have to shoot it so quickly, it would have come out clearer.
First and foremost I’m a boob man. Mike Myers’ said it best in So I Married An Axe Murderer when asked what he looks for in a woman. “I know most people say personality, but I’d really have to go with breast size.” Perhaps it has to do with our unconscious desire to feel nurtured and fed, or perhaps it comes down to simple line of sight with that ass being at a disadvantage because it’s not located between the shoulder blades, but when it comes to mounds, my first love always fell high.
That said, I stood there, eyes fixated on that voluptuous mound of female magnificence, grabbed my jaw, closed it shut and uttered, “sweetheart?”
“Yes?” smiled the girl inquisitively.
“I just have to say, you have the best ass I think I’ve ever seen.”
Both her and Joy laughed through shocked expressions, but I would not be deterred. I had always been told that giving is a wonderful thing, so I was going to give this girl a compliment. However, giving must be balanced by receiving so I asked her if I could take a picture. She laughed, not being quite sure how to respond. While the hamster wheels in her brain went round and round I decided I would simply take matters into my own hand (and I don’t mean with a sneak grab).
I flipped out my phone quicker than Doc Holiday, took aim and shot her down like a Nancy Sinatra song. “My tea baby shot me down” her subconscious mused, “shot me down into the eternal realms of digital photography that live to this day in his phone.” I don’t remember her name and I don’t remember where she worked. What I do remember, was that if I had to choose between looking at baby harp seals and her ass again, I’d tell a coat maker to go clubbing and save them for a later viewing.
“You son of a bitch!”
After searching and searching we finally found what we were looking for at none other than American Apparel (compliments to Joy for calling that one). Apparently Canadian apparel was resigned to plaid lumber jack shirts and boots made from moose tongue and hockey pucks. Though that attire inspired good “stick” handling skills, it was the wrong kind of stick handling. I needed a taste of America if I was going to make this outfit work.
Long is the road and narrow is the way to sexy golden underwear. Plus it’s blocked by little people. ;-) (My wonderful assistant and host Joy)
Assisted by a cute little girl in a lobster hat, I found what I needed and made my purchase of $30. Along with bus fair, what they were going to pay me was going to be just enough to clear my expenses.
As excited as I was, I didn’t want to unveil my outfit without a trial run. Sexiness is like a gun. It’s powerful but you have to make sure you’re shooting with live rounds instead of blanks.
“Whaddaya mean we’re not sexy?”
I especially didn’t want to unveil my outfit before I unveiled the undertone of my legs. Keeping my chest trim is great, but if you’re wearing a skimpy pair of underwear and the difference between your chest and legs looks like the difference between Curly and Moe, than something needs to be done.
Somehow I struck a pot of gold because Joy’s roommate just happened to have clippers there. The last time I had shaved my legs with only a razor, I went skinny dipping, smashed my windshield and had a cop come talk to me about it while I sat naked at a red light. What I’m trying to tell you is that it took a long time and having clippers on hand made a world of difference.
“Mmmmm… smooth man candy.”
I shaved my legs and prepared myself for the evening. I had a special event planned that night. Just over the horizon, beyond my sites was the starting point of my long march south to dance in a dance I knew nothing about, dressed in a way I wasn’t certain would work, and had it not been for the kindness of two strangers, I might have found myself in Dante’s 7th circle of Hell.
Tune in next time to hear about this thundering tale of hardships and whoa. Tune in for the long march part two!!!!