Holy
crap in a Bundt pan...
Due to the
recent well-publicized shortage of
amateur websites produced by assholes who consider themselves to be
clever, I
have been called into action. My name is Jeff Kay, and I’m an
Ugly American living
on the cusp of a mid-life crisis, near Scranton, PA. And I’m here to
serve, baby.
The
State of My Fat Ass A journal of
sorts, updated every once in a while.
--
So, I guess I'm doing requests now, like a lounge singer? Is that what
it's come to? Apparently so.
A few days ago a friend sent me an email that said, "You need to
write about 2 Guys and 2 Girls sometime." And he was right. I'm
sort of amazed I've never mentioned that dubious episode here, but I'm
almost sure that I haven't. So I will honor the request, this one time.
But never again. This ain't Smiley's Lounge on Route 60, goddammit.
-- You see, back in our day we didn't have ready access to pornography
like you young whipper-snappers do now. In the late '70s, when we needed
it most, we didn't have fancy-pants VCRs and computers that are little
more than automated porn machines (APMs), right inside the bedroom.
No, all we had were community magazine stashes located at strategic
points around the town. Under a house, inside a rotted-out tree stump...
We all knew where they were hidden, and whenever one of us would somehow
come across (so to speak) a new issue of Oui, or Penthouse,
or Swank or whatever, there'd be a palpable electricity in the
air.
But porn films? Forget about it. It was something far beyond our
reach, not even worth contemplating. Might as well wish for real live flesh
and blood breasts, for crying out loud. Completely laughable.
Or was it? A guy at our school, who didn't generally have a reputation
for being full of crap, began floating a crazy idea. He claimed to have
access to a large stash of porn, and it somehow, I'm almost certain,
involved the local fire department(?). The details are a little foggy...
But he said he thought he could get his hands on some movies, and if we
could only find a projector and a parentless venue, we might be in
business.
Holy shit! Could it be possible? Film footage of <gulp> peopledoing it?? Sweet sainted mother of all that's good! We planned
and schemed for a ridiculous amount of time, but none of us would (or
could) allow the dream to die. And finally all the pieces started to
fall into place...,
The films -- two of them -- were
officially "borrowed" and reportedly in male teenage
possession. And I have no idea how this came about, but somebody also
secured the use of a big-ass 8mm film projector. Also
"borrowed," from the school or the public library? I simply
don't know. But two of our main goals were now met, including the most
crucial of all: sir, we had the porn.
Then, as if they were in on it themselves, my Mom and Dad came to me and
my brother and told us they were going out of town for the weekend. In
the standard accusing tones, they said we were expected to answer to our
grandmother (who lived all the way across the street), and they'd be
back on Sunday.
Boing!! Our three pronged plan was now complete! We had our
parentless venue. And I wanted to thank God, but something told me I
might be pushing my luck with that.
Word spread quickly, and the "team" sprang into action. And
that night, after dinner, guys started arriving for their evening of
film appreciation. The 100 lb. projector was smuggled in, wrapped in a
blanket. Somebody brought it up the driveway, and through our garage.
Then there was a frantic sprint to the house (so as to avoid the
suspicious eyes of our holy-rollin' neighbors), and finally through the
back door.
At least eight people were piled inside my bedroom, where the
viewing was to take place. In preparation for this update I conducted a
number of email and telephone interviews with fellow attendees, and
attempted to recreate the guest list. There were eight, possibly ten,
guys packed in that small (and impossibly hot) room, with the slanted
upstairs walls. Not exactly Radio City Music Hall.
But nobody seemed too concerned about the ambiance. We were
passing around the source of the evening's entertainment, and giggling
like idiots.
The movies were in plain white boxes, and one had writing
on the front: 2 Guys and 2 Girls Fucking and Sucking. I'm still not sure
if that was the title, or just a description used for cataloging
purposes. As we were soon to learn, it worked either way.
The projector master was having trouble with his machine, and the crowd
turned nasty. It was made clear to him that failure was not an
option. Under the circumstances, the poor bastard probably would've
ended up in the Kanawha River, with his A/V equipment chained to his
body, if he hadn't gotten his shit correct. But he eventually got it
going, and aimed it at the only vertical and windowless wall in the
room.
We watched the little 8x10 rectangle of light with great anticipation.
And then it started! The thing was in color, but was badly washed out,
like those "health" films they showed us at school, about body
odor and gonorrhea. Every few seconds it would jump and jitter, and the
only sound was the clickety-clack of the huge heat-generating projector.
The 2 Guys were sitting on a couch, in a room with no other furnishings.
They looked bored, and ill at ease. Then, with no explanation, the 2
Girls were there. They just strolled over to the couch, as if they'd
been standing a few feet away the entire time. The 2 Guys seemed to be
very pleased with this turn of events, and there was an extreme close-up
of one of them smiling a mouthful of giant Chicklet teeth.
And we all let out a spontaneous cheer that seemed to surprise everyone.
Then the 2 Guys and 2 Girls began stripping off their clothes
(apparently introductions weren't necessary), and it wasn't exactly a
pretty sight. The guys were grotesquely hairy and had beer guts, and one
never removed his black dress socks. The girls had big bouffant hairdos,
large sagging breasts with incredibly dark drink-coaster areolas, and
pubic patches the size of a regulation Major League home plate.
From there, I don't think I need to describe it. The title/descriptor
kicked in, and after about five minutes it was over.
There was a second or two of silence, then we all started giggling again
like a roomful off Beavises. We tried to act cool, like we found the
whole thing hilarious -- as if we were appreciating the campiness of it
all. But, of course, it was a HUGE deal. We'd just seen our first porn
films, and nothing would ever be exactly the same again.
After the projector was broken down, and the crowd started to disperse,
a few of us ended up in a friend's garage, playing ping-pong and talking
about the greatness of the evening. I guess we had a little pent-up
aggression (or something), and eventually took to the streets and
engaged in a wild vandalism spree. Some rocks were thrown, a few windows
were broken, a mailbox may or may not have been tipped over....
And so it goes.
-- What about you? Did you have to convene a friggin' Manhattan Project
to arrange for your first porn experience, like we did? Use the comments
link to tell us about it.
--
So, I guess I'm doing requests now, like a lounge singer? Is that what
it's come to? Apparently so.