Cover Photo of Next Month's Issue of Beastiality Today

Friday 03/17/2006 12:01 AM

Yep, I went there. Bet that's not the B word you were thinking of, was it?

So is this blog no longer family-friendly since I've mentioned the word beastiality? Perhaps. But c'mon... it's a pretty funny word.

That said, one of the goals of today's post is to take a shot at pointing out where the line is of what I will and will not do, where I will and will not go on this blog. More on that as you keep reading.

So let's clear up the beastiality stuff (only to come back to it a little bit later). Yes, that's right, kids, a small number of people have sometimes had sex with animals. Yes, it's gross and icky (note, that is not spoken from the wisdom of experience). No, I will not provide any links for you (not even my typical Wikipedia link).

So how terrible is it to use the term beastiality? I'm not sure. It isn't like I'm actually saying or showing anything that's really that bizarre.

So about the picture. Candy was a very willing ~~victim~~ model for an impromptu photo right on Main Street in Park City. That's about it. Candy, bronze bear and a slightly twisted photographer with a digital camera at the ready.

Watch it, 'cause I'm gonna go all Tarrantino (talk about family-un-friendly) on you now and mess with the safe, comfortable linear continuity of the Park City story.

I'm hungry in the hotel and it's the next day, Sunday, and I'm wandering around the first floor, checking out the over-priced food options. Restaurant looks nice but nothing on the menu inspires me. So I find my way down one crooked corridor after crooked corridor until I at last find the door to the Gibson Girl Lounge (and yes, we're going to find our way back to beatiality somewhere in here). I thought it was the Gibson Grille Lounge, but the sign does say Gibson Girl. Never did find out what the story was with that.

When I walk in, the population of the room increases by 25%, as the two patrons sitting together at a table and the attending waiter watch me stumble in the dim lighting waiting for my pupils to widen and adjust to the permanent man-made dusk that fills the room.

The waiter asks if he can help me and I tell him I want something to eat and can I take a drink back to my room? He says, "Yes," and I ask for a menu. He points to the small tri-fold paper menu that graces the center of each table. I snag one and sit down at a table, near the two gentlemen sitting together. I notice that one of them is wearing a suit and the other is wearing what looks like hi-end casual wear.

When the waiter checks back, I tell him I want a club sandwich and a kahlua & cream. He says I can't take that back to my room (the drink, not the sandwich, mind you). I ask for a glass of wine and he says I can't take that either. As I puzzle for moment as to what type of drink he thought I was asking about earlier that could be taken back to my room, I ask him if he has any Evian. He says he does and my order is complete. (Incidentally, he later explained that it's a Utah law thing about no open drinks leaving the bar, even though I'd still be in the hotel.)

After he disappears into the back, the two guys start talking louder than they need to and the casually dressed older man says something denigrating to the other man. There is a nervous, quiet laugh from the suited one and then the older guy talks in my direction and says something about me.

I really wish I could remember what he said, but it was pretty harmless. He announces his apology in an overly loud voice and slightly slurs when he says, "Hope you're not offended, but you were an easy target just sitting there."

"No problem," I say and turn back toward the widescreen, plasma tv at the far end of the lounge.

"Well, now you have to tell us a joke," he demands.

I turn back to look at him and he meets my glare and I have the distinct feeling I am being tested. So I stand up and walk over to their table and I say, "A joke? It's been a while since I told a joke."

The man in the suit looks up at me with bloodshot eyes and says nothing. The older gentleman adds a requirment, "But it can't be about any politicians."

I pull out a chair at their table and sit down. The coat and tie just looks at me, still having not said a word, and the older man with the untucked, loosely fitting fine fabric short sleeve shirt smiles at me.

"Oh, that won't be a problem," I say, referring to the No Politicians rule. "I've always preferred jokes about pigs."

"Pigs?!?" the older man asks with his voice slipping into a slightly higher register.

I hold my hand out to silence him and pause a moment to gather my thoughts.

I then proceed to tell them a joke that would be entirely inappropriate to share on this blog. Suffice it to say it involves an ignorant farmer, his herd of pigs and a mis-interpretation of the meaning of the phrase "artificial insemination." It also happens to be my favorite joke of all time.

They laughed heartily at the punchline and then I stood up and returned to my own table to wait for my lunch. As I sat down, the older gentleman toasted me with a drink and I heard the words, "Dobre den," which, as I recalled at the time, meant "Good Day" in Czech.

He saw my double take and looked at me curiously. I explained that when I heard his toast, I flashed back to Prague. He immediately belted out something in Czech that I was pretty sure meant, "Do you speak Czech or are you just some stupid American pretending to be worldly?"

I answered back, "My wife knew enough Czech to buy stuff in Prague, but all I know is dekuji, so I can properly thank someone."

"Well, if you think that's what you're saying," he declared proudly, "you're sadly mistaken."

Slightly insulted, I cracked a thin smile at him and promptly turned away, back to the TV. A few minutes later, they stumbled out of the lounge, holding eah other up as they went. The waiter called after them, "Goodbye, Mr. Bailey!" The older man raised a hand in acknowledgement without turning around.

Later, after my food arrived, I asked the waiter about the two men. He explained that Mr. Bailey, the older man, is extremely wealthy and is a regular guest in the hotel. He travels all over the world and owns many company. The suited man with him was the president of one of his companies.

So is this still a family-friendly blog? For my family, pretty much. Yours? I don't know. Ultimately, you will have to be the judge. As I've said before (and, of course, I reserve the right to drastically change my mind at any moment), we will discuss adult themes here, but I will be careful to not be too crass, titilating or exploitive. Lord knows, you can find plenty of that in other places online.

Oh yeah. Today is St. Paddy's Day (hence, the green, if you're looking on the 17th). Check out my 2005 St. Patrick's Day post to read more.

In honor of the day of green, your Link of the Day is all about the ultimate Irish franchise.

Link of the Day: Explaining the faux Irish pub revolution

File Under: Candy; Link of the Day; Park City; Salt Lake City; Travel
Music: James Blunt "Bedtime for Bedlam"

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