The Pr0n Party.

Imagine this: you’re trying to set your 20 year old hormone-driven mind off of anything that only frustrates you even more, so you’re quite happy when your boss lets you know there’s a job to do in Ghent: some party, work from 8am till 10pm.

Wrong again. This must be without a single doubt the most weird, bizarre, freaky production I’ve been in so far. I’m talking about a 3 industrial-sized rooms big, erotic fest. How I wish I was joking. I just wanted to get the fuck OUT before we even started. Big round red beds! Dildo exhibition! A "White Room" being only one giant white bed the size of my room, filled with matresses and pillows. And I’m Not Even Remotely Kidding!! Fucking furry swings hanging from the ceiling! Small stages with nothing on them but a Pole! And ironically, the whole party was set up in an abandoned underwear factory. Yes, underwear. Quality underwear, even; Eskimo brand.

I had to take off my shoes and hop on that big white bed to tie a few drapes to the trusses and I must say, the sexual buzz was almost audible. Around 10pm I was hoping I could please leave and go home, but I should have seen it coming: We stayed and worked until 1am.

The only thing appearing to be somehow positive is that I had quite an interesting conversation with a homosexual (that’s the first I know, although I’m not too good at recognising them) about relationships. He assured me that men are equally as frustrating as women can be. There goes another temporary solution. Cool guy, too. He didn’t seem too shy about his "orientation" at all, even cracked jokes about it. Said "well thank you very much" when a colleague noted that tieing up drapes is for fags.


Needless to say, the Load-Out was quite disturbing, to say the least. Thank any god they had already moved out the dildo exhibition before we arrived. Apparently they were afraid of theft. That is both hilarious and so sick it makes my stomach turn. Also, Praise The Greek Gods we didn’t have to clean up that bed. Many of those pillows were ripped to shreds and the matresses didn’t smell too fresh anymore. In fact the whole place reaked. The Load-Out, however, was entirely in a light of heterosexuality, which was quite comforting. A strip dancer that must have forgotten a few things came to ask for a light, and I was glad to see it was a woman. For all I knew it was a gay party, which would have made the dildo exhibition completely revolting. (DISCLAIMER I have nothing against dildo’s but I rather not be confronted with them at work, especially those named "fill bill" that belong to someone; Pete knows who.) Also I worked together with a charming girl that even drove me to the railway station and saved me a 30 minute walk in work shoes.


I think if I had a girlfriend I might be crazy enough to go to that party, myself. Depending on what exactly was expected of you, though. But that’s the whole point: I don’t, I’m the sucker cleaning up the mess. It was all way too confronting for comfort and I must say it hasn’t Exactly set my mind to other things.


And I skinned my finger, damnit. It stings and burns and hurts like Hell.


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