At New Year's Eve I'm already writing my epitaph. While everyone around me is popping balloons, I'm thinking I'm one year closer to my end and at that point usually start looking for a handy Xanax. If someone says they don't think about it, they're lying - otherwise we'd have no fear and all fear stems from the sense that our survival is threatened.
I wish this were my life, being fed by beautiful men, in the presence of great minds discussing new and better ways to live and hopefully change the world. I had these type of discussions when I was 18 when I was hopeful and then never again but here's the spark and hopefully some day all this might come to fruition and I can say I was there.
So much to choose from - the fruit, donuts and balls sex exhibition party, naked pub crawls, kundalini cooking classes, the orgasmatron experience, slut Olympics, booty shines, workshops on how to turn your panties into a face mask, male stripping, spanking at Spankies and - my favorite - the strap-a-thon in Beavertown for women and transgender people only.