Weather Hot, Leather Lite
For yesterday's leather street fair, I surveyed my closet for something from my sadly dwindling supply of perv-wear. Chaps? Yeah, right. My chaps are still lying collapsed in a pile of helpless mocking leather-laughter* after my having tried them on before the Black Party. My chain harness? Um, I'm totally not into sharply-defined man-boobs, and I so don't want to meet anybody who is! I briefly considered my decade-old black Folsom Street Fair wife-beater, once an almost weekly stalwart of my leather bar whoredrobe, but I decided that there was no freekin' way I could hold my stomach in all day. And with the temperature in the mid-90's, even my most super-slutty 501's would be pretty unbearable after an hour or so of standing in the sun.
I finally decided to pay only passing mention to the theme of the day with my "Pig Wrestling" t-shirt. Otherwise, I was in standard Sunday beer-bust attire: cargo shorts and sneakers. About an hour into the fair, I noticed another guy wearing the "Pig Wrestling" t-shirt. That's to be expected. An hour later, I noticed another guy with my shirt. Then another one. And of course, my friends noticed them too, and took entirely unreasonable delight in pointing them out to me. Eh, it's not like I walked out of the showroom with Dolce trailing behind, promising that I'd be the only Pig Wrestler at the leather-debutante ball.

*Chaps actually made of that weird naugaboo Nasty Pig material, not leather.
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