the museum of sex . . . and an invitation

the museum of sex. THE MUSEUM OF SEX!!!! how much better could it be? i got off the plane at laguardia and told the cab driver “museum of sex” which, as it happens is at the corner of twenty seventh street and fifth avenue. my friend richard “mop” furniss works there. he and i once worked on a music video and he got his nickname from having just a wonderful set of hair. we haven’t seen each other in forever. the museum had a lot of latex. lots of videos of women moaning. clamps. plyers. pictures.

as we toured the four floors of the museum, i realized that i was on complete overload. too much information, too much sensory stuff. made me think all fifteen year old boys should be required to work at the museum because it would certainly keep them a lot calmer for the next ten years. some of the stuff was weird, some of it was gross, some of it was kinda fun, and some of it was oddly beautiful.

mop says he’s got a gig on the norwegian cruise line for a little bit and he’s going to start his own internet television station. i’m excited for him. he works a lot of freelance jobs.

we went to the gift shop and i bought a set of hearts that i thought were stick on tattoos but are made of something more substantial. like velvet. i’m not sure what i’m supposed to do with them. there were a lot of condoms in different containers and lubricants both silicon and non-silicon. plus some vibrators but i’m certainly not going to buy a vibrator in mop’s presence. i felt like everybody in the world is having a lot more sex than i am or could ever hope to have.

on the other hand. .. . mop revealed that he knows my mysterious facebook friend inda loop. she’s a black female rapper from manhattan. she has huge breasts, great smile, fantastic braids. i have no idea how i ended up being her facebook friend. i get to meet her tomorrow. . . i’m going to an actual, real, no doubt about it new york nightclub. i might have to take a nap first to stay up that late. . . .

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