Both subjects were addressed in great detail at the "In the Flesh Erotic Reading Series" I attended on January 21. As one who appreciates the power of words -- and the allure of a good meal -- I hoped that hearing about the sexual exploits of other women would leave me hornier than a porn star and hungrier than a famine victim. Since both scenarios don't make for a good combination, I was able to avoid the former ... but not the latter.
Rachel Kramer Bussel, the curator and hostess of this free monthly event, provided complimentary hot dogs from Crif Dogs, cupcakes from Baked By Melissa, and plenty of snacks (including cookies and potato chips) to help attendees fight off hunger. But because the human population at the Chinatown venue outnumbered the food supply (and, by extension, wiggle room was limited), an "edible phallus" was my only energy boost for the night. The plain frankfurter tasted good, but it didn't measure up to standbys like Gray's Papaya. Perhaps it was because while I saved $2.75¢, I could go to the renowned hot dog stand and buy their "recession special" (two franks and a 14-ounce drink) for only $1.70¢ more.
On that note, Gray's Papaya was the starting point for Jenine Sanford Holmes to tell her story about an elderly man offering her $200 for cunniligus. Her recollection of this experience was hilarious because her fantasy hook-up involved Clive Owen, not a sexagenarian. I can relate to this because while sexual propositions by strangers may be tempting (depending on the individual), in all likelihood they'll lead to regret. This theory proved true for Rachael Parenta, who detailed the pitfalls of trying to have sex with a "friend with benefits" in the bathroom stall of an East Village bar.
The humor factor waned as the evening progressed, with Cathy Erway being the most boring of the group. Her poem lacked the element of surprise found in Yolanda Shoshana's presentation, and her story about using basil ice cream as an aphrodisiac failed to hold my interest. (It didn't help matters that she seemed unprepared.) However, Heather Whaley wrapped up the show with a tale that's all-too-familiar to single women: her worst date. It was the personification of Murphy's Law, for she ended up with a guy who spent too much time talking about his problems and not enough time mastering the art of pleasing a woman. (Footing the restaurant bill and paying for cab fare to his place should've been red flags not to sleep with him ... but, as Woody Allen once said, "the heart wants what the heart wants." Sigh!)
I had my heart set on winning the bottle of Love Potion #9 up for grabs at the reading, but I would've settled for a tube of Babeland flavored lubricant. (I had no use for an "eat me" thong.) But even though I went home empty-handed, I went home feeling better about myself -- with the help of two slices of Famous Famiglia pizza.
