31 October, 2011

The Rocky Horror Picture Show

It was Halloween weekend. The Saturday before Halloween. The weather was far from inviting - I awoke that morning to the first snowfall of the season. And though it melted to nothing before the day was done, it was a fairly substantial snowfall, given that it was still October. Not a very promising omen, given that my costume for the evening consisted of what amounted to a very skimpy swimsuit.

Fast forward to an hour before midnight. I slipped on my tight gold shorts and put on a long black gothic dress over top. I put on my coat and flip flops, and headed out to the car. One thing I hadn't planned for was the freezing fog that had descended, coating the car in a thick layer of frozen ice. I tell you, it was the kind of fog you see in movies, with tangible wisps flowing through the air, and visible steam heat ushering from manholes along the street. After a good bit of scraping and shivering, the two of us - my friend and I - got the car started and headed off to the historic, and recently restored Hollywood Theater for the Halloween weekend midnight showing of The Rocky Horror Picture Show.

Not to sound overly dramatic, but there are two kinds of people in this world - those who have experienced the phenomenon that is the Rocky Horror Picture Show, and those who have not. Prior to last night, I had not. In fact, I hadn't even seen the movie itself, though I haven't been unaware of its enthusiastic cult following. And since I now have a friend who's a huge fan of the movie, and a newly developed interest in wearing outrageous outfits/costumes in public, we decided it would be a great idea to catch a showing over Halloween weekend, featuring a live shadow cast.

We made it to the theater just before midnight, and outside, two members of the shadow cast were marking virgins (first timers) with a big ol' "V" on the forehead. I had anticipated something like this - given the enthusiastic cult following and elaborate, audience participation-oriented nature of the show, you just know they'll have a hazing ritual of some sort for the uninitiated. What I hadn't anticipated was being marked out especially by one of the cast members, who took me to be her "twin" (I think because we had similar hair/dress).

Once inside, my friend and I picked out a couple of empty seats towards the back (it was a full - and lively - crowd). Before long, the show was underway, with some pre-screening festivities, including a reading of "the rules" (which basically amount to: respect the theater, respect the shadow cast, but above all, have fun), and the much-feared hazing of the virgins. When the cast asked all the virgins (and there were quite a few) to come up to the stage in the front of the theater, I was understandably hesitant. But, I had just whipped off my black dress in one deft motion, and I was thinking, it would be a shame to come to this show in my gold shorts only to sit in the back and not give anyone a chance to see me in them. So, against my better instincts, I went up to the front of the stage to stand among the throng of Rocky Horror virgins.

I was instantly spotted by my "twin" among the cast members, and she was further delighted to see me dressed as Rocky, convincing her that I truly was her twin, because, I assume, she was the one playing Rocky in the cast that night. So when the time came (after a hearty group spanking by the cast) for the cast members to select three guys and three girls from among the virgins, I was quickly shuffled up to the front of the group, with two other guys. Three girls followed, all of them hot and dressed in sexy outfits that resembled lingerie. We then paired up into three mixed couples, to be subjected to a short series of contests that were potentially embarrassing, but turned out to be immensely enjoyable.

I was, of course, nervous out of my mind, but when one of the cast members handed each of the three participating virgin couples a marshmallow impaled on a rope of Twizzler, I was delighted to discover what the first contest would be. If you haven't guessed, it was a race. Each couple had to start eating from opposite ends of the Twizzler rope, munching toward the marshmallow in the center where, inevitably, their lips would meet. The slowest couple who took the longest to get their marshmallow was disqualified. The genius of this contest, particularly in view of what would shortly need to be done for the second round, was that your motivation to get to the marshmallow was increased by your attraction to the person on the other end of the Twizzler rope. Maybe it was just an enthusiasm for winning, but the girl at the other end of my Twizzler rope wasted no time in getting to that marshmallow, and I wasn't far behind.

Needless to say, we moved on to the second round, in which we were required to fake an orgasm. I was totally mortified when I heard that - because please, what could be more embarrassing? Furthermore - and this is almost certainly tmi, though not surprising if you know me - I'm really quiet when I have an orgasm. But of course, we had to put on a good show for the crowd. And there was hardly any time to think about it - the two remaining couples were to perform separately, and we were first. I'll tell you what, when the commentator urged us on, the girl I was paired up with went at it with total abandon, and I just did all I could to hold up my end. Before I knew it - and much of this went by in a flash - she was slapping my ass and I was digging my hands into hers as we both moaned in faux ecstasy. I screamed in delight, and she pushed me back and started grinding me up against a wall, before finally "collapsing" to the floor at the end of it all, to a cheering audience. I tell you, it was fantastic fun.

Then the other virgin couple had their chance. They were good, but I had a sense that they didn't "want it" (the prize, if not each other ;-) as badly as we had. When the audience was asked to vote with their applause, the verdict was clear. We won the contest! The hot girl I had been paired with was more popular and thus got the first prize (which she totally deserved), leaving me with the second prize - the leftover Twizzlers and marshmallows, and a Marijuana home drug test. But for me, the real prize was getting to practically make out with a hot girl in lingerie up in front of a crowd, wearing next to nothing at all. I retreated back to my seat with lipstick all over my face, and sat down to watch the movie, shaking with nerves and giddy with excitement. I may have been fearing the virgin hazing, but it turned out to be the experience that completely made my night, and turned it into a memory worth cherishing.

After all that, the rest of the show couldn't possibly compete. It was impossible to even understand the movie over all the shouting that was going on - which means I'll have to sit down and watch it in the quiet atmosphere of my home sometime - but of course, that's no less than I was expecting, and it was very exciting to be a part of that atmosphere. Toast was thrown, jokes were made, and toilet paper soared through the air above our heads. Most of all, it was a lot of fun to watch the shadow cast up on the stage in front of the screen, miming the action as it appeared on screen. "Rocky" did an amazing job - I have to admit, I was tickled pink that his character was being played by a girl - a girl in a very skimpy gold bikini, who wore it with the complete confidence that few girls in her position would have had - and that really makes a difference. It also made the scene where (s)he fondles Janet that much more interesting. I give much love and respect to my shadow cast "twin" for that evening.

After the show, my friend and I departed, had a snack at an all-night diner around the corner, and proceeded home. I had a blast, and would be willing to go again. Clearly, the chances of repeating the fun I had the first time are slim to none - after all, you're only a virgin once, and I was working against my odds even then - but I'd go just for the opportunity to wear my gold shorts again. Alternatively, I think it would be fun to dress like Frank, in the whole lingerie/fishnet stockings/heels get-up. I may have to pass on the hair and make-up (which I'm sorry, looks pretty hideous), but I'd look good in that outfit without it. =3

17 October, 2011


It occurs to me that my posting on this blog has slowed to a crawl. Looking back, I get the sense that my previous need to post a personal blog was largely a result of my loneliness. I had noone to talk to, but I had thoughts and feelings that I felt a need to communicate, so I decided to communicate them to the internet. I guess that's why some people turn their nose at people like that who talk about personal issues on the internet. They either don't have a need to communicate those things, or else they have people in their life they can communicate them to, and look down on those who don't "have any friends". As it turns out now, I have the sort of friend that I can actually talk about my feelings with (not usually as popular - and in my case not as comfortable - among 'the guys'), so I feel that maybe I don't have a need to vent on the internet as much.

It's interesting, though, to consider my need to communicate, given that I'm so guarded in real life. I do really want to share my life and my experiences with people, I guess I just have my own problems with the social interface that makes it extremely difficult for me to do it that way. I also like to complain that my interests are often unusual, if not controversial, and I fear how people would judge me. In reality, I suspect that people might just think that much more of me, when they learn what an interesting person I am. Still, when I see something like this, and think to myself 'oh my god, that's awesome, I have to share it with people', I'm at a loss as to who or why anyone else would be able to appreciate my enthusiasm.

As far as blog posting goes, my efforts have been concentrated on my two other blogs lately. There is The Screaming Axe, where I now post all my reviews, as well as any horror and music-related posts. And then there is Truth & Beauty, where I talk about issues related to my photography - specifically, issues regarding my independent sexological studies. That blog is also illustrated with my erotic photography, and is therefore "not safe for work".

As for this blog, I started it under the title A NEET Life, as a means to document my pathetic existence as a recluse. Then I started fighting back against my crippling social anxiety, and renamed the blog Bridge To Better Days, reflecting the gradual (projected) improvement in my life quality. But it's a long and hard struggle, and frankly, as proud as I seemed to be to announce my reclusive lifestyle to the world, I feel kind of self-conscious about talking about how hard I'm struggling to do the sorts of social things that 99% of the population does effortlessly and takes for granted, and the extreme difficulty I'm having in fitting in to the expected mode of living. Maybe I should rant and vent my frustration here more often, for posterity. Because it really pisses me off sometimes. But I'm trying to be positive, and the best way to do that is not to think about it too much (which is something I tend to do by nature, and is a habit I perhaps need to stop).

And I guess, you know, that last part really says it all.