I had a fairly nice New Year. I went over to a small house party that my friends Peter and Tim have hosted for the past few years. It was sort of low-key, but pleasant. Peter is really big on having pickled herring for good luck as the first thing after saying Happy New Year. Slightly less than half the guys went for that.
I went to the Zone after that and danced a fair amount and visited with friends. Much fun! Nearby neighbors, one of whom is the party planner for the Zone, hosted an after bar party so I went to that.
A couple that were close friends of one of the hosts was voicing interest in putting on a leather event here in Erie. We had talked about it before. I was talking with the more vocal half of the couple (who is a hunk) in the kitchen. He walked away after talking about leather stuff, and a guy right next to us was studying some kind of electronic device and telling his partner that the device indicated that he needed 6 units of correction, but he wasn't sure if that was accurate.
Since we had just been talking about leather, my first image was that it was some kind of BDSM monitoring device, and it was indicating that he needed some kind of standardized units of kinky stuff. ("Hmm, that would be 12 minutes of spanking while wearing a ball gag, or 18 minutes without the ball gag, or 3 minutes of flogging.") I visualized his partner getting rough and nasty with a paddle while growling "Yeah, slave! You are Daddy's dirty little boy, aren't you? Take that, worm!" and then switching back when the units were properly administrated to an everyday voice, addressing me with "Hmm, well, this year we are thinking of redoing the living room. It needs to be painted, and I was thinking of going French Provincial." By the way, the device was just for measuring blood sugar since the guy in question was diabetic. Just my warped imagination at work.
The host served a sumptuous Chinese themed buffet with all kinds of appropriate food. He even had chop sticks and the small white cardboard takeout containers with the wire handles. Fun!
My only bit of weirdness is the odd association I have with the containers. When I was in my early teens, I would sometimes go to Erie Pets and Supplies on State Street near 11th St and get pet mice. They would package mice in the plain white takeout containers, so my first thought in seeing those is always mice, not food.
All in all, not a bad start to the New Year!
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