Sweden Sweaty

The first thing you need to know about Sweden is that I WAS HOT!

I was MORE THAN HOT, I was perpetually sweating.

Sweden has convinced me that I’m going into menopause and there’s only one thing I have to say about that:

SWEDEN IS A GOOD PLACE (i.e. cold) TO GO THROUGH MENOPAUSE.

I felt like I was going to burst into flames each and every day I was there.

Remember how worried I was about being cold?

Feel free to laugh out loud right now.

Three pairs of long johns?

Never wore them.

Silk shorts and top?

Didn’t even pull them out of the suitcase.

Most of the time I never wore my jacket.

All I had to wear were sweaters and sweater dresses.  So I wandered around Stockholm in a toasty warm sweater enjoying the cold only to walk into a store and GET BLASTED BY 100F HEAT!

Sweat was persistently running down my back.

I was so hot in Sweden that I jumped out of a nice hot tub and sat down in the snow.

Just to cool off a little bit.

How a girl from California can travel over 5,000 miles to Sweden and find herself persistently in the middle of a thermoregulatory crisis, I WILL NEVER KNOW.

But it happened.

Burning Man 2017: Getting There

The first thing you need to know about my burn is that it almost didn’t happen.

Tejas’ Motorbeast broke down in Auburn.

Then again just outside of Gerlach.

I got the last seat (right next to the toilet) on a Burner Express bus heading to the playa with an overnight bag, a liter of water, and simply the HOPE that the Motorbeast would make it.

I arrived on the playa to blazing 100+ degree heat in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt.

No Motorbeast in sight.

It was too hot to do anything so I hunkered down in the shade with my awesome camp mates and begged water off of people.

I also changed into my favorite bodysuit.

It was the only other piece of clothing in my overnight bag and was much cooler than what I was wearing.

I totally rocked the scrunch butt even though it gave me a permanent wedgie.

The Motorbeast arrived with much fanfare at 6:00 pm.

Tejas spent almost 6 hours in the Gate line.

This burn is a true testament to the tenacity of that man, and I am forever grateful he took on the responsibility of carting our gear and our home out to the playa.

I heart that man.

He pushed for repairs and got the Motorbeast back on the road and to the playa.

We are HOME!

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Shade, Sam, and Spankings

This weekend I got in the tent trailer…. and I got a little lesson in heat transference.

As in the heat outside in the 70 degree weather transferred to the tent trailer and turned it into a little mini oven.

I wasn’t just hot, I was boiling.

Sweat was pouring off of me.

I tried to picture myself in the tent trailer in 100 degree heat on the playa, and although I couldn’t exactly capture the pure overwhelming heat of it, I certainly got the idea.

It’s gonna be hot, Hot, HOT out there!

So hot it’s actually cooler outside the tent trailer.

I won’t want to get dressed in there.

I won’t want to put on makeup in there.

I’m just going to want to get the hell out of there ASAP.

Fast forward to Monday. I’m meeting my new friend Sam at a restaurant in Los Gatos to discuss – you go it – Burning Man. More specifically, I need to talk to him about shade. Because I need to figure out how to shade my tent trailer and right now I have no idea how to do that.

Aluminet is $0.32 per square foot. That’s makes for an expensive canopy when your tent trailer is 21 feet long, 6 feet wide, and 8 feet tall.

And while I am good at erecting some things, my canopy erecting skills and even my canopy building skills, are sadly lacking.

Plus how the hell am I going to do it on my own on the playa? This may be a time when radical self-reliance goes by the wayside.

So Sam, who is 54 but looks 37 thanks to a young face and a full head of hair, is going to school me on shade structures on the playa. Just so that I can have another project to work on.

And more money to spend, natch.

I also plan to pick Sam’s brain about life on the playa in a camp since he was in a camp last year and got to experience it all. Even the sparkleponies who came to camp naked and rubbed their boobs on everyone.

He also is a good spanker, from what I’ve heard and I can’t wait to interview him about why he spanks, what he loves about it, and what he gains from spanking bare bottoms on his lap.

I’m a curious girl, you know.

Hotter than Hades

Just as a heat wave hits the Bay Area, my friends and I decide to don our most festive medieval garb and hit the Renaissance Faire in Hollister at Casa de Fruta.

First we had to endure the stares of the masses at breakfast…. All 7 of us – Richard, Janet, Kylie, Phil, Jeff, Deanna and myself.

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The ride to the Ren Faire was fun what with music from Garfunkel and Oates playing over the speakers. The Loophole is a song about anal sex (shhh). Specifically, it’s about a girl who made a pact to keep her hymen intact and doesn’t want to lose her boyfriend. Her loophole is her poophole. Yes folks, it’s a song about having anal sex for Jesus.

“Fuck me in the ass because I love Jesus. It’s the sex that God can’t see.”

Okay, so it was a virtual laugh riot and we hadn’t even gotten there yet.

Once we arrived, we discovered we’d landed on the surface of the sun, with relatively appropriate temperatures. Suddenly, our petticoats, corsets, and tunics seemed way inappropriate.

 

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Nevertheless, we trudged around from shady tree to shady tree, making sure we hit the beer booth (Drynks) so frequently that I gave myself a headache.

We were a mischievous bunch, talking about all things from bunk to spunk to gulp to swallow. Incidentally, all titles of books.

My, don’t you have a dirty mind!

If you’ve never been to the Ren Fairs, imagine Disneyland in the Middle Ages, except without the walking cartoon characters. Instead they have the very formidable looking Queen and her entourage who looked stoic despite wearing three layers of velvet in 100+ degree heat.

There are booths selling all sorts of goods and services from face painting and hair braiding to pottery and clothing, all medieval of course. They even had a store selling glass dildos and butt plugs.

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We saw Men in Tights and Belly Dancers (with a male belly dancer, natch). We drank beer and shopped. All in all we had a great, albeit sweaty time at the Ren Faire.

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We stopped off at famous Dave’s BBQ in Gilroy. Tasty food was eaten by all. Although I deeply desired ribs, I ordered the salmon. Sigh. Healthier is not always tastier.

Our drive home we were supposed to listen to some funny songs which turned out to be sea chanties. And sea chanties and not funny… depressing and sad, but not funny.

By the end of the day my beer consumption had reached its maximum capacity and I found myself trying to lure myself into a sleepy coma to combat my dehydration headache. But I sure as hell went to bed feeling entertained and just a little bit lights (from all the moisture I lost sweating). Not swearing. Sweating.

I highly recommend taking a visit there with your friends to engage in a little debauchery!

 

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Not the brightest bulb

I worked in a beer booth at the annual Boogie on the Bayou street fair. I had a big bottle of lukewarm Snapple iced tea and a small bottle of frozen water, which I drank all the water out of until I was left with nothing but a cylinder of ice, courtesy of the 90 degree heat.

I kept trying to stuff the ice cylinder into my Snapple to chill my Snapple down. No luck. It was just a little too big.

I waited several hours to drink my Snapple, waiting for that damn cylinder to melt enough so could drink it.

Finally, I looked over at my friend Midge and said, “Well good grief! It just won’t fit.”

And Midge looked at me with this incredulous expressiona and said…

“Why don’t you pour them both together into one of the plastic beer cups.”

“Holy sh*t, Midge,” I exclaimed feeling mightily embarassed. “That NEVER OCCURRED TO ME!”

AM Beer Booth