ELECTRIC DAISY CARNIVAL NY
Its not your everyday carnival. Its not your soggy funnel cake and your rickety-ass ferris wheel (okay, well, there was a rickety-ass ferris wheel).
It was mime dance orgies. That filthy clown shit that would have made Ronald McDonald’s wife beat his ass senseless for even thinking about.
It was dominatrix bunny bitties that I would let do very dirty things to me, and I’d never say the safe word.
It was BASS BASS BASS pounding thru my veins for three days in a magical land where panties and glitter is a perfectly acceptable outfit. Ladies, if you didn’t have at least three quarters of your ass cheeks out and ready to be smacked with glowsticks, then you conservative little Sarah Palin dime pieces were at the wrong festival.
From the second I walked through the gates, I felt like I kid in a candy store. No. A raver in a rolls shop.
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